Heat (The Stark Affair Book 1)

by Cross, Skylar

  I let him try, then slip to my left, landing a right jab to his stomach as his fist goes sailing past my face.

  Then I pivot fast to my right, bringing my left elbow upward into his neck.

  I should stop right there. I know I should, but I can’t help myself. Bad, very bad. Oh so enjoyable, though. I shift my weight to my left foot and knee him in the groin with my right.

  Hard.

  He goes down.

  Now he’s crying. I reach down into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. I take out his Florida driver’s license and study it.

  “If I ever see you again, Barry Wendtler of Coral Gables, I will kill you. Now get up!”

  I toss the license on the ground next to the wallet. He puts his hand out weakly and picks them up.

  “Now!” I say.

  He stumbles to his feet, still crying. He gives me one very frightened look and then shambles off down the street, unable to stand upright.

  “Very impressive,” says Colton Stark. I turn to my right.

  Shit.

  He’s standing right there at the corner of the building.

  Again we stare at each other. He’s looking at me strangely, like he can’t avert his eyes.

  Shit. Shit fuck shit.

  “I’m speechless,” he says. “And I’m never speechless.”

  Fuck, Sofia. You had to blow it, didn’t you? You just ruined this entire op. LaTashia is going to kick your ass raw.

  “Sorry,” I say. “But he deserved it. I couldn’t let it happen.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  We continue staring. I can’t stop looking at him. It’s like there’s a supercharged field of electrical particles freezing us in place.

  “Your men’s room attendant is letting guys force themselves on Mollied-up girls, by the way.”

  “I fired him before I came out here.”

  I feel lost, out of control, not sure what I’m doing. I hate that feeling. Only thing I know is that I’ve blown this.

  Time to deep-six it. I pick up my purse from where I dropped it.

  “Okay,” I say, “I’m going to go. Nice to meet you, Mr. Colton Stark.”

  “You can’t go,” he says. “You didn’t finish your mojito. Let’s have another one on the roofdeck.”

  “Roofdeck?”

  “Yes, it’s private. Mine. I own the club, remember?”

  I look around at the dark alley. A couple walks by heading toward Collins. The girl laughs.

  “Fine,” I say.

  He opens the side door for me and holds it. I walk in.

  He places his arm lightly on my nearly-naked back as we parade through the club. The sea of dancers part for us with open-eyed glares. The magnetic field travels in sync with our steps, sending little sparks all over my body. As we walk, I catch a whiff of pine and musk from him.

  Girls all over shoot invisible daggers at me as Colton Stark leads me up the stairs to the VIP area, then to a private stairwell that leads up.

  I suddenly realize I’m smiling, tilting my head, and twirling my hair.

  And I didn’t even mean to.

  * * *

  Watch for Flame: The Stark Affair Book 2 by Skylar Cross, releasing on October 29, 2014

  Here is a free preview:

  Chapter 8

  Colton

  As soon as I saw her I knew she was the one.

  Don’t know how. I just knew.

  Maybe it was the way she looked at me, right through me, with those penetrating brown eyes. Gorgeous. Intelligent. Determined.

  And humorously out of place.

  I swear the music stopped. Actually, the entire world stopped as I swam in her eyes. Like there’s an electrical field between us, drawing us together. I could not avert my eyes no matter how hard I tried.

  We seemed to hold on together for a few long moments, then she moved toward the bar. Some chubby guy joined her.

  Two things are for sure. One, she’s the cop they sent. Obvious. I know cops a mile away.

  Second, I could study that face for days. Might even want to paint it. And I don’t paint.

  Fuck it, I’ll learn how.

  I tried not to laugh as I chatted her up. It was almost like she was trying to act like the usual girls I talk to.

  But she didn’t stand a chance. Too much intelligence behind the eyes. Too much awareness of her surroundings. Taking everything in, recording it, mapping it.

  God, I love that. So refreshing.

  Not to mention the fact that she didn’t swoon all over me like every other girl.

  I sensed she wanted to but she was distracted by something.

  I was right. She excused herself and went toward the restrooms, but didn’t go in the ladies’ room. Instead, she had an odd-looking conversation with Jag, my restroom attendant, and went in the men’s room. Then a girl came out of the men’s room looking dazed. I watched her find her friends who sat with her on a sofa.

  Then I saw Sofia emerge with a lowlife in tow, heading out the side door.

  Nobody knows there’s a side door. That alone is impressive.

  Immediately, I figured out the situation and called Ziv, my manager. He said he would take care of Jag and send down a replacement.

  So I followed her out onto the street.

  There was something primal watching her beat up that guy. My dick got hard all by itself as her fist rammed into his nose.

  That never fucking happens anymore.

  Used to. All the time.

  Now girls are just girls.

  But this one... brains and toughness... not to mention that body.

  Holy fuck!

  I could be in some serious trouble.

  She was about to leave but I talked her into a drink on the roofdeck.

  Now I’m leading her back in through the club, then over to a private door. A stairwell is in front of us.

  She follows me up.

  At my roof deck table, I pull the chair out for her. She looks around, but I can’t tell if she’s impressed or not. Most girls are in awe at the private little outdoor dining room I have up here with its spectacular view of the ocean on one side and the city on the other.

  Enrique arrives from the other stairwell, a tray in hand.

  He places two mojitos on the table between us.

  “Graçias, Enrique,” I say.

  Enrique just nods and disappears as fast as he arrived.

  I pick up my drink and raise it.

  “To kicking ass,” I say.

  She smiles. A real one. A truly spectacular one. The lights of the city don’t even come close.

  She picks up her drink.

  “To kicking ass,” she says. Her voice is all diaphragm, a growly challenging tone. My dick moves in my pants. I adjust.

  “Hope you actually wanted the mojito,” I say. “I could get you a protein shake or some Gatorade if you prefer.”

  She shoots me a dirty look. She can do that all night long. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I have three other guys that need their asses kicked and I was going to send this guy Bruno but I thought I’d ask you instead.”

  “Funny, Mr. Billionaire Colton Stark.”

  Oh God, I love the way she says Mr. Billionaire Colton Stark. Like she’s completely unimpressed.

  My dick is fully hard now. That used to happen all the time when I got a girl up here but it’s been a while. Months. No, years.

  Goddamn.

  This girl, Colton? Really? She has a masculine edge. Muscular shoulders. A hint of biceps. Solid legs. Nice curves, though. Ass is all-girl, that’s for sure. Big and round. Couldn’t help staring at it as she pushed that guy out the side door.

  I think I’ll just lose myself in her eyes a while longer.

  * * *

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  Also by Skylar Cross:

  The Cage Sessions

  Controlled by His Voice

  Mastered by His Touch

  Also by Skylar Cross, writing as Taylor Shade:

  Eyes

  Lips