Chapter one

Chapter One

The music pounded in my ears, each beat reverberating through my body as I stood by the bar, a drink in hand. It wasn’t enough to drown out my impulsive words.

"You look so hot," I blurted, my hand reaching up to brush a lock of his dark hair. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself, and my fingers lingered longer than they should have.

I froze. What had I just done? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type to flirt with strangers in clubs. Especially not after… well, everything. The last few months had been a wreck, and I was far from stable, both mentally and emotionally. My ex, who I had thought was my forever, had been cheating on me for three years. Three. Years.

And now I was standing here in a smoky club, probably looking like a mess with my wavy red hair barely contained in a loose ponytail and smudged mascara from an earlier cry session. What was I expecting from this guy?

I could feel my face heating up, embarrassment rolling over me in waves. The silence between us stretched uncomfortably, his deep blue eyes fixed on me. I had to say something, anything to break the tension.

"Just thought you should know, in case those girls over there weren’t giving you enough attention," I mumbled, motioning toward the group of women seated nearby, their eyes practically devouring him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into an amused smile. "And what do you think?"

The question threw me off. What did I think? Was that supposed to matter? I wasn’t even in my right mind to have an opinion. The alcohol was still coursing through my system, making everything a little blurry, a little too loud, and way too confusing. I shook my head, trying to regain some composure.

"It doesn’t matter what I think. Enjoy your drink," I muttered, setting my empty glass on the counter and making a quick exit. My steps were unsteady as I stumbled toward the elevator, eager to escape the awkward situation I had created for myself.

But just as the doors began to close, a hand shot out, stopping them. He stepped inside, his tall frame dominating the small space. I looked up, startled, as he entered, and suddenly the air felt too thick, too charged. The club's noise was muted now, replaced by the heavy tension between us.

I moved to the side, trying to create some distance, but it wasn’t possible. He filled the elevator with his presence, and I had nowhere to go. My pulse quickened, a mixture of confusion and something I didn’t want to name buzzing under my skin.

"You don’t think I’m hot?" His voice was low, a teasing edge to it as he stepped closer, his gaze locking with mine.

I took a step back instinctively, but there was no retreat. My back hit the wall of the elevator, and he was right there, invading my personal space. "I already told you—it doesn’t matter."

He tilted his head, studying me with those deep blue eyes that seemed to see too much. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted my chin with his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. "It matters," he said quietly, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "It matters because I want you as much as you want me."

I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, but before I could say anything, his lips were on mine. The kiss was hard, urgent, and it completely overwhelmed me. My thoughts scattered, leaving only sensation—his hands, his lips, the heat of his body pressing against mine.

A small, traitorous part of me didn’t want to pull away. The alcohol had loosened my inhibitions, and I could feel myself melting into him, my body responding to the rough intensity of his kiss. His hand slipped around my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel his desire pressed against me, sharp and undeniable.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was wrong. I didn’t know him, and yet here I was, kissing him like my life depended on it. I should have pushed him away, but instead, I found myself wishing the elevator would never stop, that no one would interrupt us. The thought of being caught—by a hotel guest, a staff member, anyone—was oddly thrilling.

And then the doors opened with a soft ding, but I barely noticed. Somehow, we ended up in his hotel room. Everything was a blur—the key card, the door swinging open, clothes being discarded in a frenzy of motion. His touch burned against my skin, every caress sending sparks through me.

I barely recognized myself in that moment. The woman in his arms, trembling with anticipation, wasn’t the same person who had cried herself to sleep night after night, mourning a broken relationship. This was someone else, someone wild, someone reckless.

His hands slid under my shirt, and I gasped as he pressed me against the wall again, his lips trailing down my neck. I could feel him, hard against my abdomen. I wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands moved between us, working my shirt open. He slid one hand inside to cup my breast through my bra as the other frantically unbuttoned my trousers slipped inside my panties.

I broke the kiss with a gasp, for I needed air, but I had time to suck in only one breath before he captured my mouth again, almost as if he were afraid I would say something to stop him.

His mouth kissing mine, and one hand at my breast, his other hand slid between my legs to caress me in that special place. Again, I broke the kiss, a moan escaping me. My head tilted back against the wall and I closed my eyes, feeling hot, sweet pleasure rising within me as the tip of his finger spread my moisture, preparing me, I knew now, making me ready.

He pressed kisses to my throat as he unbuttoned his trousers, his breathing harsh, his moves rough and frantic. And then, his hands were cupping my buttocks, lifting me as I instinctively spread my knees apart. He entered me, pushing deep, taking me in hard, purposeful thrusts, and I hit that peak almost at once. I cried out, clenching around him as the waves broke over me. Over him, too, for his body shuddered with the pleasure as he thrust deep several more times, and then was still, breathing hard against my neck.

But then I snapped awake. My eyes flew open, heart racing, my body drenched in sweat. I sat up, the disorienting fog of the dream still clinging to me.

It had been a dream. A vivid, unsettling dream about the man from two weeks ago. The stranger I had met in London. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm my erratic breathing. Why was this happening? Why had my subconscious decided to torment me like this?

I had to forget him, I had to forget the hot stranger and the hot sex and move on with my life.

It shouldn't be that hard.