Chapter 3
Chapter Three
marlowe
Y ou only live once .
My sister’s whimsical words echo through my mind as Dawson guides me out into the sultry summer night. I’d slipped away to the bathroom to return Ember’s call and assure her that I was safe. She was relieved to hear that not only was Dawson not hideous, he was the hottest man I’d ever met in my life.
She’d asked a million questions, even calling back a second time when she remembered something else. Once she was satisfied that I was in good hands, she told me to let my hair down and have an amazing time.
I intend to do just that.
Dawson and I stroll along Sixth Street as music from bars spills out onto the sidewalks. The popular downtown district is packed with tourists and college students enjoying the last weeks of summer break.
Dawson keeps his hand on my lower back, guiding me around questionable-looking spills on the ground. He’s so tall and masculine, exuding absolute power and dominance. With every step, he gives off a “don’t fuck with me” vibe that warns the drunk frat boys to give us a wide berth.
When we stop at an intersection, he leans down, his soft lips grazing my temple as he murmurs, “Did you have any particular destination in mind?”
I turn my head to meet his gaze, my pulse racing with excitement. “No,” I say breathlessly, “but I’m open to suggestions.”
His slow, sexy smile makes my stomach muscles curl in delight.
“I know the perfect spot.” He takes out his phone and types a text, his thumbs flying over the keypad. His hands look so big and strong. I can’t help imagining how they would feel on my body, stroking my skin.
He glances up from his phone, his eyes locking with mine. We’re suddenly oblivious to the bustling nightlife around us, the sounds of blaring music and drunken laughter. The whole world fades away, leaving just the two of us facing each other. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never been drawn to any man. It’s intoxicating and thrilling and scary, unharnessed electricity buzzing beneath my skin.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, staring into my eyes. “How old are you?”
I hesitate before answering, “Twenty-three.”
He nods, the movement barely perceptible. Barbara already told me he’s twenty-seven, so I don’t bother asking his age.
We walk down to North Lamar Boulevard where a glossy black executive car awaits us.
Dawson opens the back door for me. I pause only a moment before climbing inside.
He slides in after me, his warm thigh pressing against mine. The contact makes me tingle all over, from my scalp to my toes.
When our eyes meet in the darkness of the backseat, my heart races like a Ferrari on the Autobahn.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I don’t leave bars with complete strangers.
I don’t hop into cars headed to unknown destinations.
I don’t do crazy, reckless things.
Or at least I didn’t . . . until tonight.
A few blocks later, we pull up to the private entrance of a swanky club thrumming with music. The driver gets out and opens the back door.
Dawson climbs out first, then reaches down to help me from the car. His hand is slightly callused and huge, swallowing mine completely.
I smile up at him. He smiles back, his thumb stroking the inside of my palm and sending gossamer sensations fluttering through me.
The club’s private entrance is guarded by a security team dressed in black. The men stand up straighter and nod deferentially to Dawson as he guides me inside the dark, pulsing venue.
“I know the owner,” he tells me.
I grin. “Nice.”
The security manager escorts us upstairs to a plush lounge with sleek black leather couches and a curved bar. It’s conveniently empty.
With his hand on my lower back, Dawson steers me to the couch furthest from the door.
I sit down and cross my legs.
He sits beside me and leans back, draping one arm along the couch behind me. I feel breathless, mesmerized by the pure sexual power radiating off him.
The lights are dim and there’s music playing softly in the background—something slow and seductive by The Weeknd.
“Would you like a drink?” Dawson offers.
“No, thank you.” I pull my gaze from his to glance around the suite. “Your friend has a really nice club.”
“I’ll tell him you said so,” Dawson murmurs. “Do you like dancing?”
“Sometimes.” I meet his eyes. “Just depends on my mood.”
We stare at each other, the air sparking and crackling between us. We didn’t come here for small talk. We came here to make out, and there’s no use pretending otherwise.
He seems to be waiting for me to make the first move. As if he wants to ensure my consent.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I slide my hand behind his neck and run my fingers through the soft, thick hair skimming his collar.
His eyes darken, focusing on me with an intensity that makes my heart pound. I return his gaze as he strokes my cheek with gentle fingertips and rubs the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. I’m pretty certain he can feel the shiver that runs through my body at his touch.
When I uncross my legs, his eyes follow the movement. I bite my tingling lip, barely breathing as he lowers his big hand to my knee. A thrilling rush of heat sizzles in my blood.
As his thumb traces lazy circles on my knee, my breathing quickens until I’m almost panting. Lips parted, pulse racing, I watch his hand glide slowly up my leg and slip under my dress to caress my inner thigh.
I suck in a sharp breath and press my knees together, trapping his hand against my sensitive skin.
He stares at me, his eyes so dark they look almost black in the dim lighting.
“Come here,” he whispers.
I don’t resist when he pulls me onto his lap to straddle him, my dress riding up my legs. His chest and thighs feel as amazing as they look, rock solid and packed with muscle. The prominent bulge between his legs feels harder than tungsten steel, making my mouth water and heating my core.
His gaze roams over my face, drinking in my features. “God, you’re beautiful.”
My stomach flutters with a thousand butterflies. “So are you.”
His eyes spark like blue fire before he brushes my hair off my shoulder and presses the hottest, sexiest kiss to the hollow of my throat.
I quiver with pleasure, my head falling back. He takes advantage, licking and sucking the skin of my neck until I’m moaning and trembling.
“God, Marlowe.” His hands frame my head, guiding my face down to his. The moment our lips meet, my heart rate explodes and electricity sizzles through my body.
He kisses me slowly at first, probing my mouth with the sensuous swirl of his tongue. His lips are the perfect combination of soft and firm, his beard stubble deliciously chafing my skin. He smells so good and tastes incredible, smoky whiskey and intoxicating man.
I moan into his open mouth, my eyes drifting closed. His fingers slide into my hair, cradling the back of my head and holding me to him as his mouth consumes mine, hot and deliciously bruising.
It’s like no other kiss I’ve ever had. I drown in it, matching his raw hunger until I’m gripping his shoulders and grinding against his massive erection. I need him inside me so badly my whole body aches.
“Dawson,” I whimper. “I want you.”
His chest vibrates with a ragged groan before he breaks the kiss and buries his face in my neck, panting harshly. “There’s something I need to?—”
“Don’t stop,” I moan with shocking desperation. “Oh God, please don’t stop.”
He curses roughly and crushes our mouths together, his hands cupping and squeezing my ass. His cock is so hot and hard, straining against me through the expensive weave of his slacks. I can feel my juices leaking from my pussy, drenching my bikini panties.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Blind with need, I press closer to him, my hips rocking into his mouthwatering hardness.
He groans low in his throat, deepening our kiss with long, luscious strokes of his tongue. My nipples are throbbing painfully and the hot, aching place between my legs screams for relief. I’m seriously on the verge of begging a complete stranger to fuck me.
Finally, finally , his hand slides between my thighs, pushing my soaked panties to one side. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through me. Then he’s touching me right where I need him, circling my swollen clit with his thumb and making me writhe in his lap.
His eyes never leaving my face, he eases one long finger inside me. I gasp as pleasure jolts through my belly and ripples down my spine.
He curls up his finger and thrusts it slowly in and out. Each time he withdraws, he rubs his thumb over my clit before entering me again.
I moan helplessly, my hips twisting against his hand. When he adds a second finger, I arch back in shocked ecstasy. Holy shit, he’s found my G-spot. No guy has ever found my G-spot before. Ever.
“Oh God,” I whimper, my eyes rolling back in bliss as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me, hitting that magic spot every time. It feels so incredible. Too incredible.
I climax with surprising speed, crying out as my body bucks and spasms with the strength of my release.
Dawson groans sexily as my juices spill over his fingers. He continues pumping into me and stroking my clit, wringing every last bit of shuddering pleasure from my body.
Spent and trembling, I collapse against him, closing my eyes as the aftershocks of my orgasm pulse through me. Dawson brushes his lips across my temple and slowly pulls his fingers out.
Floating in a blissful haze, I distantly register a muffled ringtone. It’s my phone.
“Ignore it,” Dawson growls in my ear.
“I’d better get it, though it’s probably just my sister again.” Pushing my hair out of my face, I reach across the couch to grab my purse. I fumble my phone out and look at the screen, frowning when I see Dawson’s number. “That’s weird.”
Dawson has gone completely silent.
I stare at my phone, then at the man whose talented fingers just gave me the best orgasm of my life. The guilty look on his face sends a cold shock through me.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper.
“Marlowe—”
I scramble off his lap and frantically scoot away from him, my mind reeling with fear and confusion.
His expression softens at my panicked reaction. “Hey,” he says gently, as if talking to a frightened animal. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt?—”
“Who are you?” I choke out, staring at him in horror.
He stares back at me, regret stamped across his gorgeous face. “My name is Gunner.”
Sheer mortification washes over me, scalding my cheeks. I yank my dress down, sling my purse strap over my shoulder and shoot to my feet so suddenly that I wobble on my heels.
When Gunner rises to steady me, I swat his hand away and bolt for the door.
“Shit. Wait.” He comes after me. “I’m sorry for lying to you?—”
“Get away from me!” I scream.
“I never do things like this, but you’re so fucking beautiful. So sweet and incredible. You hit me like lightning the moment I saw you, and I just?—”
“Leave me alone!” I run out of the room and race down the hall. My heart is pounding chaotically, and for a moment I can’t breathe through the shock of what just happened.
Hearing the creep’s footsteps behind me, I hurry down the stairs and race past two bouncers. Their faces are a blur, their voices startled.
“Miss, are you?—”
I keep going, running toward the rear exit as I hear Gunner tersely instruct someone to bring the car around.
Bursting from the club, I pull out my phone to call an Uber. As I storm toward the curb, Gunner catches my upper arm and turns me around.
“Marlowe—”
“Fuck you!” I shout, trembling with humiliation and fury. “How could you do that to me? Do you know how scared I was when I realized you weren’t my real date? I thought you might be a rapist or a serial killer! I thought I was about to die!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice is ragged with contrition. “I don’t know what the hell came over me.”
“What kind of psycho are you?” I shriek.
He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “In my defense, I did try to stop?—”
I slap his face hard enough to snap his head sideways.
In the ensuing silence, my blood roars in my ears and my heart hammers violently against my ribs.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he murmurs.
“Damn right you did!” I jab a finger in his face. “You’re a creepy psycho. A sick fuck.”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“The car is ready for your guest, sir,” an attendant interrupts.
Gunner nods curtly.
“Oh, my God.” I stare at him in disbelief. “You don’t just know the club’s owner. You are the owner!”
His expression is caught somewhere between sheepish and irritated. “Marlowe?—”
“Stay the hell away from me!” Too incensed to wait for an Uber, I march to the curb, climb into the waiting car and ride off without looking back.
i’m still fuming when i get home.
I don’t bother to wash off my makeup or brush my teeth. I kick off my heels, change into an oversized Pittsburgh Steelers T-shirt and crawl under my covers.
When Sansa leaps onto the bed to sniff my face, I glare at her and grumble, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
She eyes me for a long moment, then flicks her tail and meows as if to say Better luck next time.
I snort at that. I’m done with blind dates. After tonight’s disaster, I’d have to be crazy to risk such humiliation again.
Scowling, I watch Sansa hop down from the bed and wander off in pursuit of better entertainment. I know my sister will worry if I don’t check in before morning, so I reluctantly fish my phone out of my purse and shoot her a text: Date turned out to be a dud. Not even worth discussing. I’m going to bed. We can chat tomorrow.
A minute passes before Ember responds: A dud? That sucks! Was he full of himself? The hot ones usually are.
He was definitely full of something , I think darkly before texting back: He was an asshole. Gave me a creepy stalker vibe.
Oh hell no!
Exactly , I reply.
I’m so sorry, Mar , Ember commiserates. Bad dates are depressing. But it sounds like you dodged a bullet.
Definitely , I agree. But beneath my fury and embarrassment, I can’t help feeling an almost crushing disappointment.
I’ve never met anyone like Gunner before. It wasn’t just the explosive chemistry we shared, the way he made my whole body ignite like fireworks. It was also the way he looked at me, the way he smiled and laughed. The way he listened to me and said my name like a caress. He was the first man with whom I’d ever felt such a deep connection.
And it was all a big damn lie.
Ember sends another text: Just found out I have to go overseas. My boss and I are meeting with a big client at the London office. We’ll be gone for a week, but I’ll try to touch base when I can.
Ok , I reply, wishing I could go with her if only to escape my mortifying life for a while. Have a safe trip and take lots of pics.
I’ll try , she promises.
I sign off with a blowing-kiss emoji and she responds in kind.
After tossing my phone on the nightstand, I flop onto my back and glare at the ceiling. I find myself replaying everything that happened tonight, remembering each scintillating detail.
I can still smell him on me, which doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should. Worse, there’s an intense throbbing between my legs, a pulsing beat I can’t ignore.
I squeeze my thighs together, but the ache only deepens. Heaving a frustrated breath, I grab the pillow out from under my head and press it over my hot face.
Damn that lying, filthy-sexy bastard!
It takes me forever to fall asleep, and when I finally do, a pair of hypnotic blue eyes chases me into my dreams.