ONE
DALLEN
I seehim before he sees me. The guy radiates hot, rough sex—exactly what I need tonight. I want to forget who I am and the overly involved family I come from. At twenty-eight, I’m more than ready to make my own choices, and tonight I’m making a big one.
One that I’ve never made before.
Would he go for it if I talked to him? I shivered at the idea of boldness. At work, I’m confident, capable, and sharp—but in a nightclub, squeezed into a tight dress and too much makeup (though my bestie claimed it looked natural), I feel lost and anxious.
Damn it, I can’t do it.
Yes, you can, Dallen!
I squirm and sip my vodka and orange. It’s not trendy, but I like it—nothing too strong, tastes like juice. I need Dutch courage. I’m usually cautious, maybe thanks to my upbringing, but tonight will be different.
I could do this. I could.
A bass pulse thuds through the floor beneath my heels, the kind of beat that makes the whole room vibrate in waves.
“What about him?” I grab hold of my best friend Amy’s arm and nod toward where the god stands beside the dance floor, his eyes skimming the nightclub like a bouncer, not so much a patron. He looks so out of place, like his attire alone says businessman, and yet I’m pretty sure I see a few tattoos poking out of his white, unbuttoned shirt and on his hands. When he shifts, and the light catches his chest.
I sigh, wanting him more than I should. I’m probably setting myself up for disappointment. He may be here with someone—his girlfriend, or boyfriend, or both. Who the fuck knows? But I won’t let the unknowns get me down. Since I still don’t know, that means I have a chance.
And I want him to be my first. It’s high time I lose my V-card, and he looks like he knows what to do with a woman.
“Oh fuck yes, he’s hot. Damn,” Amy whines, pulling herself up on the stool beside me. “I’m depressed now that you saw him first. He’s so fucking hot.” She gasps and clasps my arm. “Unless you want to share him?”
I laugh and push Amy off. “Not my vibe, but thanks. I’m flattered.” I glance back at the god, now talking to a brunette, hope fading. He laughs at something she says, and I stare—he’s so pretty.
Pretty and mysterious at the same time.
“Looks like he’s taken.”
“Yeah.” I turn away, looking for the bartender. I need a stronger drink. Even if I hate liquor, I need a hit after that blow.
Amy chuckles and wraps her arm about my shoulder. “Cheer up, there will be others. We have to get you to lose your virginity tonight if it’s the last thing we do. While I think the guy was hot as fuck and probably knew how to make a woman come just by looking at her, he may have been a little advanced in the sexual department than what we want for you tonight…if you know what I mean.”
“You mean you think I should be able to walk normally tomorrow, and that guy’s undoubtedly large, capable cock wouldn’t allow that.”
A coughing sound to my side makes me aware our conversation—even in the thrumming, loud music of the nightclub—isn’t as private as I’d hoped. I turn and feel the blood run from my body. In fact, I’m pretty sure I die in my chair.
The god of a man that had been chatting up the pretty brunette is beside me, his wicked, amused smirk sending my heart into overdrive. I thought he was fucking hot from half a room away, but now, up close—damn it all to fucking Hades—this guy is gorgeous.
And tattooed, just as I thought. My eyes dip to his strong jaw, his wicked mouth that’s grinning at me. He does have tatts on his chest, but I can’t make out what they’re about; they’re dark and not colored. He’s tanned, dark-haired, looks like he’s stepped off the Mediterranean beach, and yet here he is in a nightclub in New York.
Next to me.
Smirking.
“Hey.”
Holy shit, he’s talking to me. I force myself to stay calm, resisting the urge to freeze like a deer in headlights. I manage a hesitant smile, feeling exposed standing next to him now that he’s heard. “I guess you heard what I said.”
He chuckles. The sound is deep, cultured, and—holy shit—Amy has joked about getting wet over guys. I’ve always thought she was on crack. But here I am, eating humble pie. My panties are wet—all thanks to one guy in this club, now speaking to me.
“The part about the large cock making tomorrow tough?” He smiles like before, and I fight not to swoon. “Yeah, I heard. I hope that doesn’t happen—unless you meant me. Then I’m open to negotiations.”
WHATTTTTTTT.
