Prologue
Joel Kline
“Hello, Lips.” I was stunned by the woman that just walked into the bar: tanned skin, brown hair, legs for miles in that sweater dress, and swollen pink lips. The exact color of her light eyes were hard to tell in this dim light, but the whole package together made her look exotic, like a freaking Victoria’s Secret model. When her eyes collided with mine then continued to peruse my body, I was already contemplating my approach. Then the pink on her cheeks showed up, and that was it. My feet were moving, and my eyes were holding hers. I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she knew what type of man I was—a man that would fuck her into the morning hours and still have her screaming for more.
She watched me as I placed myself in front of her and leaned in, my lips caressing the wispy tendrils of hair around her ear.
“I know you liked what you saw. Time to sign the deal. Let’s go home.” I pulled back and put on my special movie star smolder that always worked with the opposite sex. They liked to bag the title holder of the Sexiest Man Alive award, but the smolder was what made their panties drop.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the surprisingly hard smack to my cheek, because to be honest, it’s never happened before.The feeling was odd.
She looked at me with disgust, turning on her heels and swaying that sweet, apple bottom ass of hers away from me. Wishing my teeth were sinking into it instead, I sighed and returned to my best friend, Killian, who was sulking at the bar over woman problems.
“Have fun?” He had a smirk on his face, clearly finding my rejection funny.
“Chick’s got spunk. Made my dick hard.” It did, actually. I wasn’t much of a man that mixed pain and pleasure, but I think with her fiery spirit I would be drawn to that type of kink. I grabbed a shot and downed it; the burn in my throat did nothing to ease the sting on my cheek. I watched her as she scanned the rest of the room, looking for who she wanted to play with tonight and coming up short. She was a man eater for sure, which kinda wanted to ruffle her feathers, so I’d get to see that wild in her come forward. An idea hit me, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.
“Be right back,” I said to Killian, and walked over to the little DJ booth.
“Hey, that girl in the blue sweater dress said she really wanted to sing the next song, but was nervous. Will you take the choice out of her head?” I called out to the dread-headed DJ, and he gave me a thumbs-up. The person who was currently slaughtering their song was almost done, so I went back to Killian and waited for the moment to happen.
“What’d you do?” he asked, but then a bunch of girls latched onto me. Normally I would find this entertaining, but right now I didn’t care; I wanted to see what my little spicy vixen would do when the DJ called her up.
When he did, and her eyes were throwing swords at me, I had to repress my belly laugh. This was priceless. She wasn’t the type of woman to let things go. Honestly, I bet she would be the type to rip your pillows into shreds and then smash your windshield with a bat. A Harley Quinn-like woman.
Crazy, but fuck if it didn’t turn me on.
She walked onto the stage, whispered to the DJ, and grabbed the mic. She was planning something devious, and it was making my dick twitch just watching her retaliate from my scheme.
“This song goes out to all you ladies who think you’re leaving with a prime steak, but all you got is a hot dog.” That voice. Dear sweet baby Jesus, did she have an accent? Fucking hell, she sounded so hot.
When she started singing Cowboy Casanova by Carrie Underwood, I was a goner. Not sure how in the world things were going to happen between us, but I felt our fates intertwine as she wiggled those hips, and told these women on my arms that I was a devil in disguise.
We watched her, and after she left the bar, I wasn’t in the mood to be around people. I just wanted my home, my friend, and the Pacific beneath my board.
“Let’s get out of here.”
As we drove back to my home in La Jolla, I couldn’t help but think if I knew any way or had contacts who could find that woman. I wasn’t ready for this little story of ours to be over.
