ONE
GRAYSON
“You ever get tired of putting on a show?” I mutter as Danny passes the table.
I’m chalking up the pool cue when he entersThe Grillwith his usual relaxed swagger. He’s a big guy packing a lot of muscle and a lot of tats, all maximized by his inability to find a shirt that fits.
“You ever get tired of being a broody son of a bitch?” he lobs back with a shit-eating grin, heading straight to the bar.
The Grillis the kind of place that smells like spilled beer and desperation. Dim lighting. Sticky floors. A perfect place for people like me to blend in. Inconspicuous. Nameless. But I can already feel the way the room reacts to him—the bar staff tensing, the women perking up.
He relishes in the attention. I don’t.
I shake my head with a half-suppressed laugh as I line up the break shot.
The waitress delivered the burgers I’d ordered before his arrival. I watch, impressed, as he proceeds to devour his as if he were inhaling his last meal.
“Who’d think chasing down a fox would be hungry work, eh? What’s the lure?”
He takes a swig of his beer. “She’s it. She’s the one.”
I stop dead in my tracks from taking my next shot, cocking an eyebrow over my shoulder. “Because of the chase?”
“It’s not about the chase,” Danny says, licking the sauce from his fingers and taking the pool cue. “It’s the catching. The hard-fought prize.”
My grip tightens around my drink.
Wrong. It’s theowning: the claiming and the ruining. At least for me, it is.
I’m taking a swig of my beer when a husky, seductive voice steals my attention. I glance across the room as I set my glass on the table. A gorgeous, cinnamon-haired girl is on the karaoke stage, wowing her friends, hitting notes her sweet image has no business making.
I can’t tear my eyes from her. She’s velvety smooth, sweet, and warm. Like a single-malt whisky. Would she taste like it, too? I could drink her up.
She closes her eyes, sinking into the melody. People stop to watch. Men ignore their dates to look. When she opens her eyes, she notices the shift in the room. A pretty shade of pink fills her cheeks.
“Impressive,” I mumble, trying to sound nonchalant while my eyes take in every inch of her. I need to hear more. I need to hear what she sounds like when she’s not hiding behind music.
When she’s gasping. When she’s begging. When she’s mine.
Would she run for me to chase? Would she hide for me to seek? Submit for me to own?
Would this beautiful, innocent-looking girl like the things I’d do to her? I highly doubt it. But damn if it doesn’t make me hard.
“Maybe you don’t need the site,” Danny remarks, following my gaze. A knowing smirk teases me. “But I do need another beer.”
He’s challenging me. I don’t need any encouragement to get closer to her.
She’s a magnet pulling me in.
I nod, heading for the bar while my eyes follow the girl, now finished singing and waiting to order at the other end.
My first clear look at her steals the breath from my lungs. Her hair is loosely tied up with long, soft, wavy curls falling on her shoulders like the ripples of a sand dune. It frames her ivory skin as it disappears beneath the black V-neck dress, which showcases her perfect curves.
While talking to the bartender, the dimples in her cheeks pop as she bites her lip.
Fuck.Prey never looked so sweet.
She’s soft. Touchable. Silk. Something I should stay away from.
