The man was breathtaking. We’d been joking about finding me a Tom Ellis lookalike and, fuck me, this guy could pass as a better-looking version. I took it back. Judging by how my libido was reacting to the stubble on his jaw, I did not need the clean-cut look. The god before me was tall, dark, and handsome, and if that wasn’t already enough of a perfect package, he was wearing a tailored suit, in a club. My mouth dried up as I noted the way the cut did nothing to hide the muscled physique beneath. His chiselled cheekbones were framed by eyes the colour of aged whisky.
