The man immediately bent down and started picking up the things that had fallen, including my lip gloss and cards, tucking them back into my bag.
I was so flustered that I think my brain just shut down for a moment. I stood there frozen, staring at his broad back and watching his muscles flex under his shirt as he gathered everything.
When he finally rose, he handed me my purse. His eyes lingered on my face for way too long. He just stared at me and said nothing, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.
He looked like a Greek god carved out of granite. He had a sharp, chiseled jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and even in the dim light of the club, he looked impossibly handsome.
"Kayla, are you okay?" Monet asked, her voice
