by M. S. Parker
I fell asleep thinking about how those eyes had stared right through me, and I was still thinking about them when I woke up the next morning.
New York was different than DC, but I was too far from being a country girl to be overwhelmed by the big city. My father had actually taught me to box a bit when I was a kid, and then when I was older, Nana and Papa had enrolled me in a self-defense class. What happened last night was foolish, but I wouldn’t let it made me fearful.
Which meant I was going to lunch with Dax.
I looked the restaurant up on my phone to get directions and to make sure I had my bearings. I liked the look of it. Casual but nice. Popular enough that Dax and I wouldn't be alone. Quality food for decent prices. Good reviews. Now I just needed to decide if I wanted to risk trying to drive again or if I'd take a taxi. I didn't want to take the subway until I'd had a better chance to study the maps and make sure I knew where I was going.
The snow had stopped sometime during the night, and while there were deep drifts, the streets and sidewalks were clear enough that people and cars were out and about. The sky above was clear, and I could see enough of the city's skyline to send a thrill through me.
I tore myself away from the window and went to the dresser where I'd put my clothes. I wanted something nice, but not like I was trying too hard. Fortunately, my Nana was one of those women who always seemed to be in perfect style for every situation, and she made sure I was the same way.
I settled on a pair of nice jeans, a dark green sweater that hugged my curves, and my favorite boots. They looked good, kept my feet warm, and gave me a couple extra inches of height. At just barely five feet tall, I needed all the help I could get.
I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early and was seated at a window table. As I waited, I found myself fidgeting. Twisting my napkin. Tapping my fingernails on the table. It was times like this that I wished I could legally order alcohol with my meal, just to take the edge off. I had a fake ID from when a group of us went to a club to celebrate our high school graduation, but it was sitting in my suitcase back in my room. Besides, I didn't think it was worth the risk just to get something to drink before Dax arrived.
“You came.”
I looked up at the gruff words and saw Dax standing next to the hostess. She was openly gawking at him, and I didn't blame her. He was wearing pretty much the same thing as last night, though his jeans looked a little cleaner, but I knew that wasn't why she was staring. Dax was the kind of guy who walked into a room and demanded attention just by being there.
“I did.” I gave him a small smile that I hoped masked the butterflies that suddenly took flight behind my bellybutton.
He dropped into the seat across from me and glanced over at the hostess. “Beer.”
She looked startled, but when he didn't say anything else, she walked away. A few other people were shooting looks in our direction, but Dax ignored them so I followed his lead.
“I wasn't sure you'd show up,” he admitted as he leaned back in his chair, that small sexy smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“I needed to eat lunch.” I managed to keep my voice as nonchalant as his. “I figured since you made the suggestion, I might as well stop by. To thank you.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up a little more. “Considering that I fixed your car and gave you directions, maybe you could think of a better thank you than showing up to lunch.”
He raised an eyebrow and let his eyes travel down as far as the table would let him and then back up again. Slowly. I could almost feel the weight of his gaze on my body, and a flush spread across my skin. He didn't make me feel cheap or afraid, but there was nothing innocent or sweet about the way he was looking at me.
“I'll be happy to pick up the tab.” I grinned at the startled expression on his face. “That is, of course, what you meant, wasn't it?”
He chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made the place between my legs ache. The smile didn't last long, turning into a scowl as our waiter approached. The woman gave Dax a once over, shrugged, and then looked at me. When her eyes dropped to my chest, I knew why she wasn't ogling the man across from me.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?” Her accent marked her as a New York native.
“I'm ready.” I glanced at Dax, and he shrugged. “I'll have the grilled chicken paillard.”
“Same.” He didn't even bother to look at her when he said it.
The woman jotted down our orders, gave me another appreciative look, and walked away.
“Is that what you usually get?” I asked him.
He shrugged again.
I leaned forward and put my elbows on the table. “You asked me to meet you here, but you didn't bother to check the menu before you ordered. Either you don't really care what you eat, or you're enough of a regular that you know what they have.”
“My cousin works in the kitchen.” His eyes looked everywhere but at me. “I knew the food was good.”
“Dax.” I waited until his eyes met mine. “What is this?” I gestured between us.
He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, and I couldn't help but appreciate the way the muscles in his arm flexed. “I wanted to make sure you got to your hotel safe.”
I blinked. That wasn’t the answer I expected, and a wave of disappointment went through me. His earlier flirting must've just been his normal way of communicating, how he naturally talked. It had nothing to do with me personally. Then again, he did just say that he wanted me to be safe.
“I did, thank you.” I took a sip of the water I'd ordered.
“How long are you in town?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Depends on how things go.”
He shifted in his seat, leaning forward a bit. “What things?”
I narrowed my eyes, studying him. He looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to ask me questions, but at the same time, wasn't sure how to talk to me. But that had to be in my head, because there was no way a man who looked like that had any problems talking to women.
“Why do you want to know?” I folded my arms, and his eyes fell to my breasts now pressed between them.
His gaze came back to me, locked with mine. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and folding his hands together. “Because I'd like to know a little more about the woman I'll be fucking tonight.”
Chapter Three
I was pretty sure I'd heard him wrong. I must have because no one in their right mind would've said something like that to a virtual stranger. Maybe in a bar or club, but certainly not over lunch.
Except the heat in his eyes, and the smirk curling his lips told me that I'd heard him correctly, and now he was waiting to see how I'd react.
I raised an eyebrow. “You're overly sure of yourself, aren't you?”
He grinned. “Come see me at work tonight, and I'll show you why.”
“I'm not going back to–” I began quickly, unable to keep the distaste from my tone.
“Not there.”
Despite myself, I was curious. “Then where?”
“Club Privé.” He paused while the server set our food in front of us. After the woman walked away, he continued, “I work security there. Come by tonight. Let me show you one of the fun sides of the city.”
I thought about it for a moment and then came back with my own counteroffer. “If you agree to have a normal, innuendo-free lunch with me, I'll come by your club tonight.”
He didn't even take the time to think about it. “Deal.”
Okay then. Apparently, I was going to a club tonight. I just hoped Club Privé wouldn't look too close at my fake ID. That would be embarrassing. And since I was seriously considering following through on Dax's original presumption, getting kicked out of the club he'd invited me to wouldn't be the best way to make that happen.
I hadn't planned on going to a club the day after I arrived, but I had a couple outfits that would work. After going through them all, I wished I'd had a chance to go shoppin
g, but in the end, I went with my favorite little black dress. I'd been told that it made me look older, which was a good thing when trying to pass for the age on my fake ID.
Since I had some skin exposed between my mid-thigh hemline and my mid-calf boots, I opted to take a taxi. Judging by the way the cab driver's eyebrows went up, Club Privé was well-known in New York, which did nothing to soothe my nerves. I pulled my phone out of my purse to see if Dax had sent me anything about how I was supposed to get in, but there was nothing. I assumed he left my name with the man at the door, and I'd just have to wait until I got through the line, but when the taxi pulled up in front of the club, there was no line.
I frowned, but paid the cab driver and got out. The man standing at the door was large, but he smiled warmly at the couple who approached him, then opened the door for them. His smile wasn't quite as wide for me, but he was definitely more pleasant than the bouncer I'd met at the club I'd gone to back in DC.
“Membership ID?”
I gave him a startled look. “Membership ID?”
“Club Privé is a private club for members only,” he said. While he wasn't rude or even abrupt, I got the feeling this wasn't the first time he'd had to turn someone away with this explanation. “Guests have to come in with a member.”
“What about an employee?”
The man gave me a hard look. “Which employee?”
“Dax Prevot.”
“Are you Bryne?”
I nodded.
The man reached for the door. “Dax is working security on the floor tonight. You should be able to spot him next to the bar. Stay on the first floor. Second floor is for VIP members only.”
“Thank you,” I said as I hurried past him. I hadn't needed to get my ID out, so I wasn't going to risk him asking for it now.
I blinked as I stepped inside, my eyes needing a moment to adjust to the lower club lighting. It wasn't the pulsing, flashing lights I'd expected. In fact, none of this was what I'd expected. The music was danceable but not the electronic beats most clubs used. There was something sensual, silky, about it, and as I looked at the people around me, I realized why.
This wasn't just any club. It was a sex club. And based on some of the leather and chains I saw, it seemed to cater to the S&M crowd. The membership requirement made more sense now.
There didn't appear to be anything inappropriate going on as I walked toward the bar, but I had to force myself not to stare at some of the people moving around me. The clothing was as varied as the people. Some were in what I thought of as normal clubbing clothes, showing fair amounts of skin, but not unusual. Others barely had the essentials covered despite the cold outside.
“Bryne!”
I heard my name above the music and turned. Dax stepped out of the shadows, and I allowed myself a moment to appreciate how good he looked. He slid his hand up my arm and leaned in until his mouth was near my ear. Damn, he smelled good.
“You want something to drink?”
I'd told myself that I wouldn’t drink tonight, if only because I wanted to keep my wits about me, but the sudden onslaught of nerves that I'd gotten the moment Dax's hand touched me made me reconsider my position.
“Nothing too strong.”
Dax nodded to show he heard me and turned to the bartender. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but a minute later, he handed me a glass with something pink inside. If he'd been some random guy I'd just met, I wouldn't have taken a drink from him, but the fact that he was security here made me think that he wouldn't risk his job by slipping me a drug.
I settled onto one of the barstools and sipped my drink as Dax moved to stand behind me. I could feel his eyes on me but kept watching the dance floor. When he leaned close enough for me to feel the heat from his body, my pussy throbbed.
I'd never had a serious boyfriend, and I'd never gone further than some hands-on action, but that had all been by choice. I'd always known that if I got involved with a man, my choice would be scrutinized to death by my mother and my great-grandparents, as well as every member of their social circle. If I was ever foolish enough to have a one-night stand, there would've been no way I could've kept it to myself.
When I first started thinking about moving to New York, dating wasn’t in the forefront of my mind, but the closer my move had gotten to becoming a reality, the more I realized exactly what it would mean to be away from my mother and her expectations. I could do what I wanted to do, and my mother wouldn't know about anything unless I told her.
And there was one thing I definitely didn't want my mom to know was on my agenda. Namely, sex.
“What do you think?” Dax asked, his breath hot against my ear.
A shiver went down my spine as his fingers brushed against my back. I gulped down the rest of my drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down my throat. I was going to need some more liquid courage before I answered that question.
By the time the club closed, I'd consumed more pretty pink drinks than I cared to count, and all of my worries had faded away. The world was overly bright and a bit fuzzy, but I wasn't slurring my words, and I was completely capable of walking by myself.
That last one was the current point of contention between Dax and me.
“I don't need your help.” I glared up at him as I tried to pull my arm away.
Dax grinned down at me, seeming more amused by my protests than moved by them. “I'm not letting you walk out there in those heels. You'll break your neck, and my boss will have my ass.”
I made a dismissive sound. “Your boss won't fire you. Rich guys like that only care about money.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, Gavin Manning isn't your average rich guy.”
I stopped and stared up at Dax. “Gavin Manning is your boss?”
Someone bumped into me from behind, and I lost my balance, stumbling into Dax. His arms automatically went around me, and I found myself pressed against his chest. If I'd been completely sober, I would've immediately extricated myself and tried to play it cool, out of habit more than anything else. At the moment, however, I gave into what I wanted and wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing deeply, getting lost in the scent of soap and sweat and him.
“Bryne.” Dax shifted so that I'd look up at him. His expression was serious. “How drunk are you?”
I considered the question seriously, wanting to make sure that I clearly understood what was about to happen. When I was satisfied that I could still think, I answered, “I'm sober enough to know I want you to come back to my hotel room with me tonight.”
His features softened, and he lifted my chin to look directly into my eyes, desire and something else flaring hot behind his. He ran a thumb over my bottom lip and growled low in his chest.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “Unique.”
The fact that he waited to answer made me even more certain that this was what I wanted. He might've had a rough exterior, but he wasn't a bad guy. My gut had been right about that. And there was definitely a connection between us.
“I'm not looking for a relationship.”
I shrugged as I ran my hands around to his chest. Damn, he was firm. “Me either.”
I knew there was a chance I'd regret this, but it was my choice, and that was what mattered. I'd come here to start taking control of my life, and this would be my first big step.
His eyes narrowed, and the world around us fell away. For a few seconds, all that existed was the two of us. Then he nodded and bent his head. The moment his lips touched mine, heat shot through me, and I knew I'd made the right choice. I'd had some good kisses, or at least I'd thought so at the time. Dax blew them all away.
When he finally released me, I swayed on my feet, and it had little to do with the drinks I'd consumed. My lips tingled, and my body demanded more. Any doubts I might've had about him being my first were gone. I wasn't a prude, and I hadn't been waiting for a serious relationship to come along. I'd been telling the truth when I said that I wasn't looking for anything permanen
t. I wanted sex, and I didn’t want to settle for taking care of things myself tonight.
Dax slid his arm around my waist as he hailed a taxi. We spoke very little during the ride to my hotel, but the air around us almost seemed to crackle with electricity. I was hyper aware of every place our bodies touched, and judging by the way Dax's fingers tightened around my hip every so often, he was too.
By the time we were walking down the hallway, my nerves were stretched taut with equal parts anticipation and anxiety. I opened the door and stepped inside, wondering what I was supposed to do next.
Fortunately, Dax didn't let me wonder for long. Before the door was even closed, his mouth was on mine again. Any previous gentleness was gone as he claimed me, teeth and tongue demanding even as his hands moved over me. I managed to get my boots off, then let out a startled squeak when he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth as he hardened against me.
I was vaguely aware that we were moving but was more concerned with the feel of his hair between my fingers, the movement of his tongue with mine. Then we were falling back onto the bed, and he released me to catch himself on his hands, his body stretched out above me.
My pulse was racing as he pushed himself up on his knees and pulled his shirt off. My breath caught as I took in the sight of him. The tattoos on his arms linked to swirls of black ink on his chest and ribcage before disappearing to his back. A small silver stud was through one nipple, and I shivered at the thought of how it must've felt to be pierced there. One of my friends back home had tried to convince me to get it done, but I'd chickened out. There was nothing chicken about this man.
“Your turn.” His eyes were dark as he stared down at me.
Wiggling under him, I managed to pull my dress up and over my head, liking the way his eyes lingered on me as I slowly exposed the matching bra and panty set I'd worn underneath.
He leaned over me, his mouth taking mine again as he moved us farther up on the bed. One hand slid between us, unhooking my bra before tossing the garment aside. His hand covered my breast, his palm against the hard point of my nipple. I gasped as his fingers teased and rolled the sensitive flesh, sending pulses of pleasure through me. Then those long fingers were moving down my stomach and under my panties.