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Kissing him back with the same kind of desperation, I realized I was finally kissing a man. All the boys I’d kissed before this one faded into a distant memory.

Gasping for air, I pulled slightly away and watched his eyes darken as he ran his hand down my throat.

“You’re…” His jaw clenched. “So fucking sweet.”

I blinked, unsure whether that was good or bad, but before I could ask, his mouth was back on me.

He ran his rough hand down my breasts and my stomach before it came to stop at my hips.

I thrust my hands into his hair, holding on to him while sinking my teeth into his lower lip in a feral act of passion.

Who was this passionate woman? I had no idea, but I didn’t fight her. Instead, I took and took, letting fire consume me.

He gave me everything but also demanded more, his hard ridges holding me while I rubbed myself shamelessly against him, my hips arching into him.

My skin burned, and I was terrified that if he asked me to give him everything right now, I would fall down to my knees and thank him for it.

“I’ve never been kissed…” I trailed off when I felt his hard length against me and a moan traveled through the air. It was mine.

He wrenched his mouth from mine. “What do you mean you’ve never been kissed?”

I blinked in confusion, my chest heaving and my thoughts a jumbled mess. The muscled width of his shoulders hid everyone else from me and I was glad, because I looked like a wanton ready to have sex with this god right here and now. He bent his head, towering over me.

“Answer me.”

“I meant that I’ve never been kissed like this,” I murmured, answering his question.

He took a small step back, almost as if he needed space to think clearly. God knew I needed to get my brain back.

“How old are you?”

The impact of the kiss turned my brain into mush and made it hard to think straight.

“I just turned twenty.” Shit, I was supposed to lie. The club was twenty-one and older.

This was the reason lying was bad. I always forgot my lies.

My shoulders slumped.

“I’ll be twenty-one… next year,” I whispered.

He grabbed my wrist while watching me with a dark, half-lidded stare. Something in his gaze warned that this man was as depraved as I currently felt, but the idea excited me rather than scared me.

He captured his bottom lip in his mouth, let go of my wrist, and smoothed down the front of his slacks.

“Leave the club, Sienna. Now.”

“But—”

“I’ll have you thrown out.”

I turned around and left on unsteady legs, but I knew this—whatever this might be—was far from over.

That was the beginning. My kidnapping was the end.

I let out a tired sigh and stretched my legs before standing up.

“I’ll stop taking pills tomorrow,” I said to the empty room.