Chapter 1 1. TEQUILA. DANCE. ESCAPE.

OLLY's...

I'd already downed six shots of tequila, and I told myself it was enough for the night. Still, I was aware-of the music pounding through the club, of the dancers grinding at the far end, of the way everyone had to shout to be heard. I chuckled, watching a girl laugh as a guy wrapped his arms around her waist like she was his.

Maybe I should dance too.

I pushed up from my seat, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, half-expecting the floor to rise and trip me. The music got louder with every step, vibrating through my chest. A smile crept onto my lips as I raised my arms, letting the rhythm took over. For a second, I felt free. Powerful.

Then a hand slid around my waist.

Instantly, the spell broke. My body stiffened as a wave of disgust crawled under my skin. His palm was rough. His breath was sour.

"I don't wanna dance with anybody. I just wanna dance alone," I shouted, twisting around.

He grinned. Or tried to. A sickly flash of teeth lined with yellowish plaque peeked out from under cracked lips. The stink hit harder than the bass.

I shouldn't have noticed, not with the lights spinning like a disco fever dream-but between the breath and the sight, nausea crept up my throat. My stomach lurch harder from the sight than the tequila.

He didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened.

"A lot of girls say that at first," he slurred, smirking like he thought he was charming. "They just don't know what they want."

That did it.

I yanked my arm back. Oh! I thought I did because he latched on harder, dragging me toward him, closing the little distance I'd fought to create.

"I said no," I growled. "Get. Away. From me."

He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath against my cheek. "Don't get feisty now, baby girl."

I gagged. I could feel it-everything I'd swallowed tonight rising with a vengeance. "Seriously-let go-"

He didn't. And then-

I threw up. Right in his face.

It wasn't ladylike. It wasn't controlled. It was tequila-fueled vengeance, explosive and immediate.

"Fucking goodness!" he shouted, staggering back.

"Oh my God." I slapped a hand over my mouth and backed away, bile still stinging my throat. "I'm-ugh-I'm sorry!"

I wasn't.

I bolted for the restroom, grateful no one seemed to notice. Or maybe they did. But clubs have their own kind of code-everyone's too busy pretending to be invincible to watch anyone else.

After scrubbing my face and rinsing my mouth until I felt almost human again, I drifted back out and made my way to the bar. My head buzzed, my stomach still uneasy. I needed something to settle me.

I sank into a stool and flagged the bartender. "Can I get a gin and tonic, please?"

A voice came from beside me. Low. Smooth. Not slurred. "What you need is water."

I turned-and forgot how to breathe.

He was art in motion. Whiskey-colored eyes behind thin dark frames. Hair just messy enough to look intentional. A sharp jawline that could cut diamonds. Black-on-black outfit like he stepped out of a high-end noir fantasy.

And he was looking right at me.

"That won't be a good idea," he added, lifting his martini glass to his lips.

"Huh?" I blinked. Words failed me for a full three seconds. "Wait-what?"

He smirked. "You know, it's kind of hypocritical to be out there dancing if you're not interested in... that." He nodded toward the dance floor.

My mouth fell open. "Shit." He saw. He definitely saw.

"I wasn't-" I started, but then I squared my shoulders. No, I wasn't going to shrink from this.

"It's hypocritical," I countered, "for men to assume every woman dancing alone is just waiting for a man to complete her fun. Maybe we're the fun. Ever think of that?"

A smile tugged at his lips. God help me, I wanted to bite that smile.

"That's also hypocritical, Ravyn," he said casually, swirling his drink.

My brow furrowed. "I never told you my name."

"You didn't need to." His voice dipped low, teasing. "You lure a guy in, pull away just in time, and then drop a speech on gender roles. It's giving dangerous."

I bristled. "You don't know me."

He set his glass down and stood, straightening his blazer. "Actually, I could."

And then he walked away, like he hadn't just rattled me to my core.

Oh no you don't.

I ignored the bartender handing me my drink and darted after him, weaving through the crowd until I caught up and stepped directly in his path.

He didn't flinch. Just slipped one hand into his pocket and cocked his head at me.

And then-I kissed him.

I don't know what possessed me. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't smell like beer and disappointment. But I kissed him-hard, fast, and completely inappropriate.

When I pulled back, breathless and horrified, I whispered, "There. Now you can call me whatever you want."

His lips curled into a full-blown smirk. "That was unexpected."

"I should go." I turned, fully intending to flee again from what I brought upon myself. It must definitely be the tequila.

But he grabbed my hand-firm, but not forceful-and spun me back.

Then he kissed me.

This time, it wasn't fast. It wasn't rushed. It was deep and full and so hot it melted any common sense I had left.

When he pulled away, his breath brushed against my cheek. "I wasn't the guy on the dance floor."

My brain short-circuited.

"Bye, Ravyn," he said.

"No-wait!" I called, stumbling after him. "This might sound stupid, but..." I paused. "I think I need you."

His steps stopped.

Oh God. What did I just say?

"I mean, not like-forever or anything. I just-" I covered my face. "I don't usually do this. I don't say this. I don't kiss strangers and tell them I need them. This isn't me. I swear-you know what, forget I said anything."

He turned.

"What if I don't want to forget what you said?"

He stepped in, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating off his skin, and tipped my chin up with a single finger.

"What if I don't want to forget anything you said, Ravyn?" he murmured.

"That's not my name," I whispered, breath catching as his fingers slid into my hair.

He didn't flinch. "Doesn't matter."

His gaze roamed-slowly, deliberately-over my lips, then lower, like he was committing every inch of me to memory.

I looked away, suddenly shy, suddenly aware of the ache pooling low in my belly. My heart thundered. My mouth went dry. I couldn't meet his eyes. So I stared at his shoes. Anything but him.

"Don't bite your lip," he said again, this time lower, darker. "Unless you're ready for what comes next."

"I'm clean," I blurted. "And on birth control."

His brow arched. A devilish grin curved on his mouth.

"Desperate?" he teased.

"Honest," I shot back. "And very, very turned on."

His laugh was low, delicious. "Then you might want to take your panties off and get in bed. Because once we start, I'm not stopping."

The door clicked shut behind us, and before I could say a word, his mouth was on mine again-demanding, claiming, perfect.

Clothes came off fast. A mess of buttons, fabric, heat. I barely recognized my own hands-they were everywhere. On his chest, tugging at his belt, tracing the lines of his abs like I was blind and learning a new language.

He stripped off the last of his clothes and paused, letting me look.

Jesus.

Every inch of him was carved, confident, ready. His cock stood proud, thick, hard, and twitching slightly under my gaze. I couldn't stop the sound that slipped out of me-a whimper, maybe. A plea.

"You good?" he asked, voice rough with restraint.

I nodded, then swallowed. "Are you going to stare, or are you going to fuck me so hard I forget my ex?"

That grin again. Lethal. Laced with danger and promise.

He moved forward, easing me onto the bed, his hands warm and sure. "Raise your legs," he said, voice low. "Touch yourself for me. I want to see what you do when no one's watching."

A flush spread down my neck. "I've never done that." This was a big deal between me and Nathan.

"Then let me be your first. Be a good girl for me. Will you?"

His voice was soft but commanding, a velvet threat wrapped around desire. I obeyed-because my body didn't care about shame anymore. My fingers moved, hesitant at first, but quickly bolder as I watched his eyes darken, jaw tense, cock twitch again.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, fisting himself slowly as I followed his command.

I moaned, louder this time.

"I think I'm-"

"Not yet," he growled, climbing onto the bed.

"You don't come until I'm inside you. But you have to lick your fingers while I do."

"What? That again, I have never–"

"Make me your first in all." His smile was laced with danger and sin.

I did what he asked and it def-doesn't taste like ice cream. How it tasted, I can't filter it now.

Because now he was inside me.

He filled me in one slow, devastating thrust that stole the air from my lungs. I gasped, clung to him, scraped my nails down his back as he set a rhythm that made everything before this feel like fiction.

"Don't think about him," he whispered against my neck. "He's not here. I am."

I didn't. I couldn't. Not when this stranger made my body sing in ways Nathan never even tried to understand.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, held him close, lost count of the seconds, the minutes. All I knew was that for once, I wasn't alone in my body. Someone was worshiping it, wrecking it, putting it back together.

A single tear slipped down my cheek-not from sadness, but from overwhelming, unbearable pleasure.

I might probably regret all of this when I wake up tomorrow, but I was simply living in the moment like Emily would advise even though I had never listened to that part of her before.

"Fuck!"

Who said Vulnerability could always be negative? We were vulnerable to one another.