Prologue
Monroe
Four Months Ago
Florida in the summer was a drug.
Unlike the river banks separating my town of Crossroads from our neighbors in Rivers Bend, South Beach was a premier destination for those looking to have an unforgettable time at one of Miami’s gorgeous beaches or, like me, lose themselves in the opulent night scene downtown. Dancing the night away along with some of the biggest artists and attending some of the best festivals was the perfect way to spend the summer, so long as you could beat the heat and humid temperatures that were sure to make you sweat away every ounce of bad decisions.
Or at least trick you with the promise of forgetting them.
This trip was supposed to be a once in a lifetime experience. A celebration of my newest venture, along with my best friend and my journey into adulthood. Ten years too late, but for the second time in my twenty-seven years, I’d accomplished something worthwhile. Something I could be proud of.
The humid summer air heated my skin as I stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk right outside the dive bar we’d been in for the last few hours. There was so much chaos around us, I’m not sure my best friends Bailey King and Billie Cole even noticed I’d wandered off. I wouldn’t blame them either. Both were very entranced by the two gentlemen, who eagerly bought us round after round of drinks all night since we’d first arrived.
As a precaution, I quickly messaged the group chat, assuring them of my safety and promising to share my location once I reached my destination, which at that moment I had no clue of. I couldn’t believe I was walking hand in hand with Jameson King, surely headed toward a decision I’d regret come morning.
I let out a sharp gasp as some drunk asshole sped past me on a bike, nearly knocking me on my ass in the middle of the sidewalk. Jase pulled me into his arms, cradling my fall as he spun us around to safety.
“Shit, Monroe. Are you okay?” he asked, as out of breath as I was.
My hands gripped his biceps to hold steady and took in a sharp breath. The scent of his cologne left me speechless for a moment before I could recover. I felt his hot breath against my neck, sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin in the scorching heat. Weird that goosebumps appeared when my body was ablaze and not meant to signify frigid temperatures, but there was no other way to explain it.
It all happened so fast, yet as I looked up into his eyes, it was as if he was moving in slow motion. His thick blonde hair was slick against his forehead as beads of sweat delicately fell along his cheek. Maybe it was just the tequila talking, but my God. Jase King was fucking beautiful.
I cleared my throat to swallow back the urge to tell him exactly how gorgeous he was. “Yeah, just a little startled, butI’m fine,” I whimpered, trying my hardest not to show how his nearness affected me.
I had no clue what had come over me or why I was reacting this way to him. All I knew was I had to get a hold of myself and quickly, before this night turned into anything more than what the two of us had agreed to just moments before.
One night.
No strings.
No regrets.
“I swear that fucking jerk better watch where he’s going,” Jase shouted, loud enough the guy probably heard him as he rode away. A few heads around us turned our way, though most were too drunk to notice the scene unfolding before them.
Not me though. I was mesmerized by the man in front of me. The protective nature of his embrace did all kinds of weird things to my libido, and currently in my stomach lived a swarm of butterflies begging to be heard. His nearness crackled with unspoken promises of a great night. A tantalizing energy radiated from him, sending shivers down my spine, all while my pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, driven by the lustful expression on his face as he watched me.
What was wrong with me?
This was Jameson King, my best friend’s brother. A man who, only twenty-four hours ago, I had no interest in. Sure, I probably harbored a small crush on him years ago when I was in college. Like I said, he was unfairly good-looking. All the King Family men were. Though so were my brothers, so it wasn’t something I was usually distracted by.
However, something about the way he looked at me yesterday when we ran into each other was unlike any other time we’d been in the same room. It’s the same way his eyes trailed over my body just now, admiring the way my denim skirt fit perfectly tight over my hips, and down the dip of my baby bluehalter crop top, which bared more cleavage than a swimsuit top. Then again, we were in Miami, and looking around at the women out and about, I was pretty overdressed.
To Jase, seeing me like this shouldn’t have been anything new. There were plenty of times when he’d seen me in a swimsuit—the summers we spent frolicking about by the riverbed that extended from his property to mine. In his eyes, I’d never seen the clouded haze he’s worn since our impromptu kiss yesterday afternoon.
A kiss I still felt burning along my lips and the only reason I agreed to this impulsive decision of leaving the bar with him.
“Monroe, are you sure you’re okay?” Jase asked after minutes of silence as I drifted out of my thoughts.
Moments before we left, I escaped to the bathroom, unable to continue pretending I was listening to the two gorgeous men fawning over my best friends, as I felt Jase staring at me from across the bar. From the moment his eyes met mine and the first text message came through, I was so distracted I’d barely heard a word they were saying.
Jase: I can’t stop thinking about the kiss.
I thought he’d say something crude, like comment on how hot my ass looked, or how much cleavage I was showing. Though what I hadn’t expected was his mention of the kiss we shared. A kiss I also hadn’t stopped thinking of.
My hand trembled as I reread the message before splashing cold water over my face. Though as I stepped back out into the overcrowded bar and crashed into a hard wall of muscle, I knew I shouldn’t have given him my new phone number even if at the time it felt like the right thing to do.
