by Skye Warren
“Deviant…? As in sexual acts?”
“The very same.” She gives her drink a tragic look and takes a long gulp from it. “Charges didn’t stick, though. I mean, she’d been his girlfriend. She left him for another guy and he’s been drinking and banging every chick who’s drunk enough ever since.”
“Did you?”
“Bang him?” She laughs, a raspy smoker’s laugh. “Never been drunk enough. He sure is a hot piece of ass, though, isn’t he?”
“I see.” I hide a wince. What’s this, the meat market?
“Marcela Presti.” She puts out her hand, and after a second’s hesitation, I take it and shake.
“Hailey Allen.”
“If you’re here for a good time, and believe me that’s what I’m here for, too, then move to the dance floor. Kaden won’t move from the bar until he’s well and truly hammered, and then only to grab a chick and take her along.”
“He takes them home?”
“His tastes run too dark, like I said. He needs privacy and space for the sort of stuff he likes, or so the rumors report.”
My mouth is dry. I take another sip from my gin and tonic. Dark, huh?
When I decided to move from Chicago to Kansas City, my only concern was to move as far away from Trent as possible without moving to the moon. Chicago isn’t on another continent, but I figured this was far enough.
Rebuilding my clientele will be a bitch, but I’ve saved some money, and I’ve just moved into my apartment here. I’m ready to move on. Ready to put that asshole behind me, forget Trent, forget his betrayal and the years I wasted on him. Loveless, sexless years, sitting on edge, wondering if it was just me, if I was doing something wrong, when he’d been banging my cousin all along.
I gulp down the rest of my drink and ask the bartender for another. I’ll need all the liquid courage I can get tonight, because tonight I’ll shed my skin and re-emerge renewed. I’ll live for the moment, dance and flirt, find a strong, dominant man to take over the trainwreck that is currently my life and drive me wild. Make me come like never before. Make me see stars until the past is gone.
Until the image of Trent and my cousin fucking on our bed is erased.
The second gin and tonic arrives and I drink some more. The image in my memory blurs, the hard edges of reality soften.
“I think I’m starting to like your city,” I say, toasting Marcela and the bartender. “And I’ll try the dance floor. After I finish this.”
Marcela laughs, toasting me back. “That’s the spirit, girlfriend. Go find yourself a nice-looking man to fuck the worries out of your mind. Best remedy ever.”
She’s crude, but it’s also funny. I snicker and lick my lips. From across the length of the bar I catch movement, and I turn to see Kaden looking at me. His mouth is pulled up to the side in a smirk and holy shit, he’s damn handsome.
What if I let him fuck me, fuck the worries out of my head? The idea was to go out, do something different, forget about the past. Kaden sure sounds different, as different as I’ll ever get in bed.
He sounds just like the medicine the doctor prescribed.
Marcela leans closer and tsks. “Listen to my advice, Hailey Allen. Steer clear of Kaden Hansen. Unless you want your wrists shackled and your ass pounded until you can’t walk, your mouth and throat sore from deep-throating him and your pussy bruised from his cock, you’re better off finding someone else.”
I nod, pretending I agree—but her words make me feel hot, the thought of him doing these things to me is scorching, sending a fierce throb between my legs.
What if he’s exactly what I need tonight?
Wild thoughts. My mom always told me to avoid bad boys. Dad was a bad boy and the first thing he did when mom told him she was pregnant was to bolt and never look back. So it makes sense that she’d hammer this principle into me—and I did follow her advice for all these years. Only ever dated serious suits with steady jobs and goals in their lives, steady incomes and boring sex lives.
And where did it get me? With Trent fucking my—
Okay, enough. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t keep dredging up that awful, humiliating, life-shattering memory, that I’d focus on the here and now.
Where bodies are twisting to old rock songs and men’s eyes gleam as they check me out. Marcela has joined me on the small dance floor, her martini glass in hand, and she tosses her black hair as she swirls. She looks wild, and the men take notice.
My hair is a classic bob, chestnut with blond highlights, and I’m dressed in the only slinky dress I own. I’ve never let myself go before. Always dressed to the nines for the job, for Trent and his friends, trying to prove I’m as good as they are, that I’m good enough to be accepted.
Screw that.
I toss my hair too, the strands catching in my mouth, and laugh when Marcela wolf-whistles at me. My high heels click on the floor as I let go and allow my body to move to the rhythm.
And then I make the mistake of glancing toward the bar and find him still watching me. Kaden, his brows drawn together, his eyes blazing.
I forget for a moment where I am and what I’m doing, caught in his gaze.
“Hailey!” Marcela grabs my arm and swings me around, giggling. “Come dance with me.”
I let her pull me along to where a couple of guys are drinking beer and fake-dancing, eyes zeroing in on us as we approach.
For all intents and purposes I should find this creepy, the way lust drips from their expressions like dirty oil. The guys aren’t particularly young, handsome or even healthy-looking, but right now it all seems hilarious, and also nice. Nice to have men gaze at me openly, finding me sexy.
I dance and laugh, and when one of the men approaches me, I grin up at him and turn to dance with him.
“What’s your name?” he asks. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, his dark hair slicked back, a black tattoo winding up his forearm.
“Hailey.”
“You’re very pretty, Hailey.”
“Thank you.” I’m not sure he is the remedy I need. He looks… polished somehow, dressed to pick girls. I want fun but not with some jerk. “This is a nice place.”
“Will you be coming more often?”
I smile, inch away from him. “Not sure. I’m here with my friend Marcela.” Whom I’ve just met, but hey. “Just having fun.”
“Come with me.” He grips my wrist, smiles.
Pushy. I pull my arm free. “No, thanks.”
I’m tipsy but not that far gone.
“Let me buy you a drink at least. We can talk.”
Reluctantly I glance back for Marcela but she’s dancing with a guy. They’re glued together, their bodies moving as one.
Ugh.
“Sure,” I hear myself say and this time when he grips my wrist, I let him.
Wanted a big strong guy to lead the way tonight, didn’t I? Well, come to think of it, this guy could fit the bill. He sure is arrogant. Hey, I’m not looking for my soulmate. I just need a night of wild sex to shake me out of my moodiness.
I settle on a stool and frown when he orders for me—a whiskey neat. I hate whiskey. I take it anyway, sip and let it flow down my throat, a trickle of heat.
The bar is tilting and I grip the edge. Whoa. Guess I’m drunker than I thought. That makes me snicker.
Get plastered, go home with a stranger, have monkey sex. All the firsts in one night. My bestie in Chicago always said I was an overachiever. If only she knew…
God, I’ll miss Maggie. Need to call her… Maybe even right now. Where’s my phone?
Shit, where’s my purse?
“Looking for this?” He dangles my purse from his fingers, laughs when I reach for it. “No panic, I’ve got it.”
Got what? I want to ask but it seems pointless when he sets the purse on the bar.
“What about him?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Why is he looking at you? Do you know him?”
I lean back to see who he’s pointing at—and sur
e enough it’s Kaden Hansen, the hot deviant bad boy I shouldn’t want. At all.
“Never met him in my life,” I reply truthfully.
“Good. I don’t want anyone getting between us.”
Whoa, what? “Hold your horses,” I slur, and slurring is a bad, bad sign. I put down my glass and realize it’s empty. When did that happen? “There’s no ‘us.’”
“Not yet.” His smile doesn’t look so nice anymore. “Let me take you home, you’re hammered. I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t want—” I shake my head, but that makes me dizzy, so I stop. “Don’t want you taking care of me. Give me my purse.”
“I’ll hold on to this for you. You’re so fucking wasted I guarantee you’ll lose it.”
“Give me my purse!” I make a grab for it, and he moves it just out of reach. “What are you doing?”
“Come here.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me off the stool. I weave on my feet, try to push at him but his fingers are like steel digging into my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Let go.” This can’t be happening. The noise is way too loud and nobody is even looking at us. “Let go of me, you asshole!”
Does he think I’ll just give in? Does this actually work for him normally? Jesus.
I pull my other hand back and slap him across the face. “Fuck off.”
He jerks, his eyes widening. Then he tugs on my wrist so violently, I lose my balance and crash against him. “Bitch,” he hisses. “Cocktease.”
I’m busy picking myself up. I’ve lost a shoe, and I kick the other one off too—to run, if needed, though fear is slowly seeping through the alcohol haze, making me shake.
What if I can’t push him away? What if nobody else notices?
But then his grip on my arm loosens, and I stumble back, slamming up against the bar and sliding down to the floor.
There’s a heavy thud, and another, then a grunt and cursing. A shadow has fallen over me. A guy is towering over the asshole who tried to force me to—what, go with him? Was he going to rape me later? Holy shit.
A tall, muscular guy, his arms covered in tattoos, his blond hair coming loose from the ponytail at his nape, framing his furious, handsome face.
Kaden.
I gape at him as he gets into the other guy’s face, snarling. “Haven’t you learned yet I won’t fucking let you pick up women in this bar and carry them home against their will? Want me to knock out all your teeth, is that it?”
“Fuck off, Kaden.” The guy brushes a hand under his nose, and his fingers come away coated with bright blood. “This is none of your fucking business.”
Kaden glances at me and his gaze darkens. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
He punches the guy in the gut, making him double over, then crouches down in front of me and puts a finger under my chin, tilting my face up.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I say nothing, lost. His eyes are a pale green, like jade. Green and gold, cat-like eyes that seem to smile at me.
“She’s wasted,” the asshole says. “Aren’t you, Hailey?”
“Yeah, I saw you contribute to that.” Kaden’s eyes flash. He doesn’t look away from me. “Want me to drive you home? I promise you’ll be safe with me.”
The other guy snorts, then curses when blood trickles from his nose. “His girlfriend reported him to the police because he was so rough with her. Did you know that?”
Kaden’s face twists in a grimace.
“I know,” I whisper.
Kaden straightens. “That’s not how things went down,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.
I’m staring at him. At his full, wide mouth, the golden scruff on his jaw, the thick column of his neck, the wide shoulders.
“Hailey.” He rubs a big hand over his mouth. “You don’t have to come with me. I can call you a cab.”
“I’d rather go with you,” I hear myself say.
Oh boy.
“Seriously? You’d trust him but not me?” the other guy mutters angrily.
But Kaden hasn’t manhandled me, hasn’t made decisions for me, hasn’t assumed we’ll sleep together. He came to my rescue.
Also, I want him. What can I say? I’m horny. And drunk.
So I stretch out my hand, and he takes it. He pulls me to my feet and wraps an arm around my waist when I wobble.
“Easy there,” he says, and his voice, like his touch, is firm but gentle. “Ready to go?”
As much as I’ll ever be, after this disastrous end to the night. I just hope I haven’t just made the mother of all bad decisions…
Kaden
I keep a hold on her as we exit the bar. She’s a little shaky, and she’s put back on her fuck-me high heels, so her balance is precarious—but it just means she leans a little bit more into me, so I can’t complain.
Back there, I didn’t lie. I’ll just drive her to her place and go. Unless she wants me to stay, but not sure I’d risk it.
I’m not taking her to my apartment. I don’t take girls there. Never. Not since that girl, Eva, freaked out and started accusing me right and left of being a pervert. She wasn’t even my proper girlfriend. We’d been getting it on for a couple of weeks when she decided my tastes were too heavy for her.
And she went straight to the police, instead of telling me not to talk to her again, which I’d have gladly done.
See, I’d trusted her. I don’t do that lightly anymore.
But this girl. Hailey. I help her into her coat, hang her purse on her shoulder, and pull on my leather jacket as we walk around the bar. Then I haul her back to my side and she’s a warm solid presence, her chestnut bob silky where I let my fingers sift through it. She smells of alcohol, but underneath it there’s a sweeter scent. Flowers. Honey.
Woman.
I help her wear my extra helmet, then climb on my motorbike and wait for her to settle behind me. “Hold on tight.” Her hands slide up my sides and stay there. I grab them, fold them over my stomach. “Tight, or you’ll fall off.”
She mumbles something to my back, wiggling on the saddle, and I smile.
Haven’t smiled in fucking ages.
I rev the engine, pull on my own helmet and gloves, and we’re off. The cold night air clears the rest of my buzz, and it intensifies all my senses.
Her arms wrapped around me. Her tits crushed to my back. The warm of her legs pressed behind mine.
As we zip through the city, I ask for her address and we head that way. It’s not that far from where I live or the shop, and I file the street name and the number in a corner of my mind, not even sure what for.
I’m a delivery guy right now. I delivered her from that motherfucker Johnny who keeps forcing himself on girls too scared to report him, and I’m delivering her safe and sound to her place.
Job done.
I park my bike, kill the engine and hit the kickstand. She doesn’t move.
“Hailey?”
“I can’t feel my legs,” she says, muffled against my back. “Or my hands.”
Dammit, I should have given her my gloves. I remove her hands from my middle and slide off the machine, carefully lifting my leg over the saddle, not to hit her.
Then I drag her off, until she’s standing in the circle of my arms, her head tucked under my chin, my hands on the small of her back.
Why does she have to feel so fucking good in my arms? So right, like she belongs there. I don’t know her.
And I don’t trust people, not anymore.
My body is taking notice, too, my dick swelling against her soft curves. I’d been half-hard most of the ride, feeling her against my back, imagining what I’d do to her, with her—and now I’m rock hard and uncomfortable.
It’s to make sure she’s steady on her feet, I tell myself, keeping a hold on her as we make our way to the building and she unlocks the door. That’s it.
One last moment of this warm, breathless feeling I get when I hold her against me.
Then she turns her dark eyes on me and says, �
��Come up with me?”
No. That’s what I should say. She’s tipsy, and everyone saw me leave with her, and if she freaks out like Eva did I’ll have trouble convincing anyone it wasn’t true.
But I say yes. Yes.
I stand no chance of refusing her, even if I know it’s a fucking bad idea…
Her apartment is small but neat and cozy. She shrugs off her coat on the sofa and toes off her shoes. “Drink?”
“Sure thing. Thanks.” I take off my jacket, leave it on the sofa next to hers, and shove my hands in my pockets as I cross the living room to look out of the window at the street below.
“Brandy okay?”
I nod and she slides beside me, pushing the cool glass in my hand. “Thanks for punching out that creepy guy and bringing me home.”
Sipping at the brandy, I steal a look at her bright-eyed face. “No problem.”
“I’m new in town and I… I wanted to have a fun night out.”
“You have every right.”
“I wasn’t careful. That was a mistake.”
I sigh. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have invited me up.”
She laughs, a sweet sound. “Why? I’m not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be.”
She puts her glass on the window sill, and stares outside. “I think you’re the one afraid.”
I freeze, choke on my brandy and start to cough.
Fucking hell.
She laughs as I bend over, hacking, and takes the glass from my hand. Then she pats my back. “You okay?”
I nod and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “That went down the wrong way.”
Yep.
I take the glass from her hand and take another sip. It burns and soothes my raw throat.
She’s leaning back against the wall, her cheeks rosy, her mouth tilted in a smile, her tits heaving with each breath, barely contained in her black mini dress. She bends one leg at the knee, propping her bare foot on the wall, and my gaze trails down her long legs.
I gulp down the rest of the brandy.
It’s not helping.
“I should go.” But my feet don’t move from the spot. She smoothes a hand down her side and my eyes follow the movement, hypnotized. “You should tell me to go.”