Leaning with his back up against a black two-door sports car with his hands folded across his chest is the man himself, Lancelot.
Easily over six feet four inches tall, soothe mocha skin, hazel-green eyes, framed with long thick lashes and thick arched brows, a straight nose, high cheekbones with full lips and hair the color of chocolate that’s kept cropped short on the sides and back with a nest of curls on top. Wearing a long sleeve white crew neck shirt that hugs his wide chest and big arms that tucked into the front of his jeans that trims his waist, and fits close to his thighs, and casual shoes, this man looks like the handsome man he is. He can definitely stand out in a crowd anywhere.
Just standing there and looking at him with my mouth gaped open and a wet pussy. He’s been a part of my security team on and off for three years, but it seems I’ve been crushing on him forever.
Every guy I’ve gone out on a date with since he came into my life didn’t get a second date. I see why now; they either didn’t have the right build, the right looks, they smelled funny, and my all time favorite they weren’t him.
In his uniform, pair of military black cargo pants, combat boots, and a shirt with his firm’s logo, he’s unbelievably gorgeous, but in regular clothes he’s down right hot.
“You okay with Lance is taking you home?” Ram asks.
I looked over at Lance again for confirmation and with a nod of his head I nodded too. Why did I nod too?
“Yeah, we’re good, thanks man.” Lance says as he comes forward to grab Ram’s outstretched hand for a bro shake.
“Copy that.” Ram says before he gets back on the elevator.
Before the doors close, I turn around in time to see him wink and wave a “toodle do”. Who the fuck does that?
Turning around, I just stare at Lance while he looks me up and down.
“Hello little one, how have you been?” His deep, smooth, and baritone voice made me soak my panties.
I am stunned; he’s never been this close to me before.
I manage to swallow a lump down in my dry throat and I know he had to have heard the gulp before I replied, “I’ve been good.” Is that all the comeback I got? Where are the sassy quips and the smart-ass replies? “Why are you taking me home?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Couldn’t you have come to the tea and talked to me about whatever it is there?”
“I don’t do tea. Besides business never sleeps and what I want to talk to you about is best said in private.”
Standing back, he holds out his hand for me to take. I look at it like I’ve never seen it before. We’ve never touched before unless if you count the times he touched my shoulders or my back to let me precede him in and out of some place and even then he’s always asked for permission to touch me.
“Do I have your permission to touch you?”
“Of course.” I said slowly and with hesitation.
Slowly, I slide my hand into his big, warm hand, and I felt calluses of a man that works hard with his hands tighten around my small one.
“Come on little one, I won’t bite.”