Hot Stranger

My reason evaporated. All the fears, shyness, and restraints were gone too. The only thing that remained was him, his tongue dancing along with mine, his hands running up and down my back, the warmth and firmness of his body...

There was no logical explanation for why my hands slid up his broad shoulders and circled his neck. I didn't think I had ever been more daring, more reckless, more utterly insane. I was vaguely aware that we were in the club, that others were watching, but I couldn't make myself care. Not when his fingertips traced a line down my spine. Not when his tongue precisely stroked all the right nerves. Not when a powerful surge of heat made me realize no one had ever kissed me this way. 

I might have moaned softly against his lips. He might have responded with a breathy chuckle. My toes curled, despite the uncomfortable stilettos I wore. I didn't want this to end. I wanted more. I needed more—

A wave of realization came like an icy wind, coating my skin. This had to stop. I had to stop this. Struggling, I pressed my palms against his chest, instantly marveling at its firmness. Then I pushed him slightly, freeing myself from his embrace.

I stepped back, realizing my knees had become weak. My breaths were uneven, fast, and shallow. My whole body shivered, barely handling the mix of emotions I felt. Finally, I mustered enough courage to meet his gaze. Big mistake.

He looked at me like he owned me, like I had just become his. For some nonsensical reason, a part of me would gladly accept his ownership. That was when I knew for certain it was time to get the hell away from him.

I had to say something… but what? Was there a guide with helpful phrases to use after you kiss a guy you didn't know? My mouth opened, but it took me a few heartbeats before any sound came out. “Um… thank you,” was all I managed.

“Anytime, firecracker.” His lips formed a seductive smile before he added, “I'll gladly taste you again.”

A nearly hysterical chuckle escaped me before I managed to clamp my mouth shut. Run. I had to run, but my legs didn't move. My hot brunette watched me with some feral kind of amusement while I stood before him like an absolute idiot. Finally, I gave him a curt nod as a way of goodbye, turned around, and walked back to Portia's booth. My heart kept thundering. My body seemed feverish. And the ache between my thighs increased with every step I took. I might have heard his breathy laugh behind my back, but I wisely swallowed the urge to turn around and check.

It was a struggle to keep my back straightened and my steps steady as I headed to my seat. I promised myself I would walk there with my chin held high. I braced myself for all kinds of spiteful remarks, but when I reached my seat, I met the exact opposite—silence.

My sister and her besties seemed pale. Portia's hands fisted, her eyes gleaming in anger. Had she expected my task to end differently? Well, too bad. She would have to swallow her disappointment.

I stopped in front of her and held her stare. “No sneers or insults this time?” I waited a few heartbeats, watching Portia work her jaw. She said nothing, and neither did her dumb besties. A small victory. I slid back to my seat and grabbed my ridiculously expensive drink. I sure as hell needed one.

A dry chuckle sounded. I turned to the source and met Portia's icy glare. “I should have known this task would be too easy for you. You're a natural-born slut, after all.” She leaned forward, fixing her eyes on me as she added, “Just like your mother.”

I snapped. “Don't you dare insult my mother!”

“Or what?” She leaned back in her seat, sneering.

I was on the verge of exploding, but she knew as well as I did that one word from her to our father could jeopardize all my efforts. I clenched my teeth so hard, I was surprised they didn't crack before muttering, “Don't insult my mother… please.”

Portia let out a cold chuckle and sipped from her drink. I was certain she was thinking about new ways to humiliate me when Naomie interjected, “That guy is insanely hot, though.”

“Yeah,” Portia sighed before glancing at me with disdain. “Too bad he has a crappy taste.”

I ground my teeth and lowered my eyes to my drink. Suddenly I felt an odd shiver rushing down my spine. Uncontrollably, my gaze drifted to the bar, to my hot stranger, and my heart nearly stopped as our eyes met. I gulped, quickly returning to the staring contest with my drink.

“This hottie is looking our way!” Coco squealed.

“Really?” Portia instantly straightened up in her seat and pushed her chest forward.

“Maybe he now wants a kiss from someone better.” Naomie chuckled, playfully smacking Portia's arm.

Somehow, I couldn't resist looking at the bar again. My hot brunette was talking to his blond friend. I definitely shouldn't be staring, but some utterly insane part of me wanted nothing more than to march back to that bar and kiss him again.

“Hey!” Coco raised her hand, drawing everyone's attention. “I think I know who he is!” She giggled.

My sister's brows rose. “Who?”

A wide grin exploded across Coco's face. “That's Hunter Thorne!”

Naomie gasped. “No way! This billionaire?!”

“I heard he's looking for a wife,” Coco added, her eyes on the billionaire.

Portia snorted and winked at her friends. “Maybe one of you should give it a try then.”

“I think I might.” Naomie smirked and rose from her seat. “Watch and learn.” She sneered at me before smoothing her pink dress.

A sour taste filled my mouth—jealousy. Why was I even jealous? I didn't even know that guy. Shoving away my irrational feelings, I gulped down my drink and watched Naomie glide toward the bar like some master seductress.

She prowled forward, her eyes on the target. I might have held my breath as she stopped and placed her hands on her hips. Would I feel disappointed if he found her attractive? Then again, why wouldn't he find her attractive? Naomie totally qualified for the drop-dead gorgeous category.

Naomie's lips moved, although I couldn't hear what she said. Apparently, Hunter Thorne found her words unimpressive, not even sparing the slender blonde a glance. Clearly annoyed, Naomie inched closer, but before she could reach the billionaire, his friend stepped in front of her and pointed at something underneath the lapel of his jacket.

Naomie stumbled back, her face turning pale. Then she spun around and walked back to our booth. The little devil inside me began to celebrate. I couldn't quite comprehend what the hell had just happened, but I surely enjoyed the outcome.

“Was that a gun?” I heard Coco mutter as Naomie stopped by our seats, trembling.

Portia huffed, rising to her feet. “How dare he threaten my friend! Does he know who my father is?! I'll show that guy—”

“Don't go there.” Naomie grabbed her friend. “It's… not that important.” She nervously tugged her golden hair behind her ear. “B-besides, this club is boring. Let's go elsewhere.”

Portia pursed her lips but then finished her drink and grabbed her bag. “Fine. Let's go.” She started walking to the exit. Naomie and Coco quickly followed suit. Sighing, I unclipped the stupid pink veil from my head and put it on the table.

“Cat, get over here!” Portia barked, frowning at me as she looked over her shoulder.

I rolled my eyes, swallowing a long line of curses. I truly hoped she would get drunk quickly and we could end this pathetic night. I pivoted to the nearest exit and started to push through the crowd. My lips still deliciously tingled from the kiss. The reckless part of me wanted to stay here just for a chance to meet this man's searing gaze again, but the rational part of me quickened my steps, leading me out of the club.

Guys like Hunter Thorne meant trouble, and I had enough problems in my life. I would feel lucky if I never met him again.