I hear Amy squeal into her drink behind me, but thankfully she doesn’t interrupt. For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been in this position before. I’ve never had a guy I’ve wanted in my bed hint at joining me there as well.
“What about your girlfriend?”
He looks puzzled before he leans on one elbow, studying me. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“But I saw you talking to a woman just before.”
“That’s my brother’s fiancée. She’s not mine.”
She’s not mine?
Wow, was that how he spoke about the women he dated? Like they were his property—something for him to protect? To own. To lay claim to. Shit, that was hot, and not something I thought I’d be into, but…here we are.
“What would our negotiations consist of if we were to discuss that particular partnership later tonight?” I say.
He rubs his jaw, as if weighing my reckless proposal. He can’t be. I can feel my pulse hammering at the thought of being so bold—so unlike myself. But tonight I’ve sworn I’m done haunting the city as the lonely, desperate twenty-eight-year-old virgin.
I want to lose my V-card. I need to live and explore. This guy seems like the perfect place to start.
Somewhere behind us, glassware clinks sharply at the bar, noise slicing through the music like a reminder of how real this moment suddenly is.
Near the dance floor, colored lights flicker over the crowd, casting brief flashes across his face that make his expression look even more dangerous and unreadable.
“What do you want me to do?” he says, and I’m dead.
Again.
TWO
STEPHEN
How canI refuse a lady’s offer? I stare down at the pretty little redhead—Pumpkin, I decide to call her. Even in the middle of July, she looks like a woman who suits fall.
I bet she wears those ridiculous sweaters with Rudolph on the front.
Although tonight her little black dress doesn’t look wholesome at all. It looks like a little piece of cloth I’d like to remove with my teeth. And after hearing her conversation with her friend, that possibility might just be the perfect way to top off what’s already a good night.
Especially with my brother’s marriage to Briar.
I gesture to the barman, who, of course, works for Moretti Global, since this nightclub is part of our real estate portfolio, among the many others we own in the city.
Not that this woman seems to know who I am, which is perfect for me. I don’t like women chasing me because of what I can offer them—money, power—even if that power has a dirty little history we’d all like to forget.
The low amber lights above the bar cast a warm glow across the counter, catching the shine of bottles and glassware.
“Another beer?” the barman asks.
“Yeah, thanks.” He slides my drink across the bar before going off to serve others. “So,” I say, turning toward Pumpkin. “About this dilemma of yours. Who is the guy you think won’t allow you to walk tomorrow? Consider me intrigued.”
She goes bright red, her eyes wide and clear as they look up at me. Green— the greenest eyes—reminding me of Ireland, a place close to my heart, simply because it isn’t the craziness and busyness of this city. Which I also love, but my cottage in County Cork does keep me sane whenever I need to get away.
She bites her lip, and I can see she’s hesitating. The weight behind that trepidation makes me even more curious. Maybe it’s me she’s been ogling and hoping to be the one to fuck her. I’d be more than willing to make her walk tomorrow a little less comfortable.
“Actually, it’s you.”
I raise my brows, surprised she would out herself right away. I thought she would play it a little less forward and tell me it’s someone else. The idea of her fucking any other rando in the club makes my lip curl, and I take a sip of beer to remind myself this woman is a stranger. Not someone I know or care for. I sure as fuck shouldn’t give two shits whom she fucks.
“You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk? Are we clear on the rules?”
