Chapter 2
ASHTON
I spotted her the moment she walked through the door. My little sinner, dressed in the devil’s color red, of course. And fuck me if her body isn’t pure sin in that tight little number she’s wearing. She looks completely different from the woman I ran into this morning.
Completely different.
Yet my body recognized her instantly. Why out of all the clubs in LA, did she have to end up here? And looking like that. Is the universe fucking with my head? I hardly ever come here, I only chose this place because I had to pass it on my way home from my parents’ estate.
My eyes follow her every move as she walks across the club, hand in hand with another woman.
My gaze involuntarily moves to her wrists, which are now covered with two large bangles.
Are they there purposely? Is she trying to hide her scars?
Fuck. In less than twenty-four hours, she’s somehow become my little enigma.
As much as I tried to push her from my mind today, it was fruitless.
What’s her story?
Do I even want to know?
She has me tied up in knots.
I should take my own advice, turn away, and run. Just like I did this morning.
“Did you hear a word I said, Ash?” Grayson asks, pulling me back into the present.
“Yep, every single one.”
“Liar. What did I say, then?”
When I don’t answer, he follows my line of sight. I still haven’t managed to peel my eyes away from her. She looks happy as she laughs at something the chick beside her says. I’m sitting unnoticed at the end of the bar with my best friend, Gray.
“Check out the tit’s on that one in the red.”
His comment makes my jaw tick. “Put your eyes back in your head, asshole.” My gaze snaps to him when he laughs. “I’m serious.”
“She obviously wants people to look; she’s got them out on display for the entire world to see.”
He’s right, and that pisses me off more than I care to admit. I have a good mind to go over there and demand she put on my jacket. “Just stop looking at her like that, all right?”
Grayson looks at me like I have two heads. “Wow. When did you become so possessive of a woman?”
“Just drop it, okay?”
“Do you know her?” I lift my beer to my mouth, taking a long chug and shrugging my shoulders. When my eyes dart back to him, he’s smiling. “Jesus, you do. Who is she, Black?”
“None of your business, Edwards.”
He goes to stand. “Maybe I should go over there and introduce myself, then.”
“Sit the fuck down.” I reach for his arm, but he chuckles, ignoring my request.
“I want to meet the woman that’s got your nuts on a platter.”
“I mean it, Gray. Don’t force me to hit you.”
“All right, lover boy, settle down.” He retakes his seat.
“Lover boy,” I scoff. “As if.”
Grayson slaps me on the back. “Keep telling yourself that, buddy. I’ve never seen you like this before…” He pauses for a moment. “Well, not for a long time, anyway.”
His statement makes me cringe, and I silently plead with my eyes not to go there. Not tonight. It’s been a long day, and I just want to chill.
“Would you really punch me if I went over there?”
“Damn straight.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “I think every guy in this club has eye-fucked her tonight. Are you going to take us all on?”
“If I have to,” I grumble.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ll be fucking damned, this one’s got you good.”
I scrub my hand over my face. What in the hell is wrong with me?
You can’t save her, Black, she’s not Anastasia.
I can see him staring at me through my peripheral vision. “Sweet baby Jesus. Who is this woman?”
“If you must know, I met her this morning. But that’s all you’re getting.”
I want to tell him about the scars on her wrists, but I don’t. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I know he’ll tell me to stay the fuck away from her, which is wise and the kind of advice I should be taking on board, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to.
The fucked-up part of me.
Grayson Edwards knows me better than anyone; he’s been by my side through it all.
The highs and the lows. Especially the lows.
He’s the one person who helped me keep it together after Anastasia.
Christ knows where I would’ve ended up if it weren’t for him.
We’ve been best friends since elementary school.
We’re also business partners, so even now, as grown men, we see each other daily.
“The girl she’s with is pretty hot,” Grayson says, flicking his head in their direction. “Those tattoos are smokin’. Damn, I’d tap her.”
I chuckle because I’m not going there. “You’d tap anything that moves.”
“Hey, I have standards.”
“Sure you do,” I say, mocking him. I get a kick out of riling him up, he bites every time.
I’m still watching sweet-thing as she grabs her girly frou-frou drink and takes a sip before heading toward a booth at the other side of the club.
Is it wrong that my dick wishes it were that straw?
My eyes are glued to her ass as she sashays across the room. I may not be interested, but I’m not dead. That short dress she’s wearing barely covers her backside, her cheeks are like two perfectly round peaches just waiting to be squeezed or bitten. I’d happily do both.
But it’s those damn legs of hers that rile me up the most. Christ. That tiny scrap of material only makes them appear longer. I’d like to feel them wrapped around me.
No, I wouldn’t.
Who am I kidding, of course, I would.
I place my hand in my lap, adjusting my crotch.
My eyes move around the room once she and her friend take their seats.
I’m not going to let her distract me a moment longer.
I came here tonight to get a bit of action, someone to help me blow off some steam.
And as much as I’d like to see that little sinner beneath me, that’s not going to happen tonight or any other night for that matter.
What little I do know about her is way too close to home for me. I’d never willingly put myself in that position again. I barely got away from the last one intact.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair as I push those thoughts from my mind.
Dinner at my parents’ house hasn’t helped my mood any.
It was excruciating. Willow Henderson kept making googly eyes at me across the table while my mother rambled on endlessly about me.
In the end, I placed my phone under the table while the guests were distracted by the servants, texting Grayson for help.
He called a few minutes later and said there was an emergency with our company.
He always has my back.
Willow walked me to the door, handing over her phone number before I left, asking me to call her sometime while batting her eyelids.
I’m surprised I didn’t lose an eye in the process.
There are long lashes, and then there are ridiculously long ones.
The fake kind, which she has. It looked like two butterflies were held captive on her face.
Everything about her is pretty much fake—her demeanor, her tits, her lips—they’re pumped so full of Botox she has a permanent duck face.
I nodded politely but threw her number in the trash can on my way to the car. She’s beautiful in her own right, but I’m not stupid enough to ever get involved with another woman whose only goal in life is to trap some poor rich bastard into marriage.
It doesn’t take long for my traitorous eyes to end up back where they shouldn’t. I watch from the shadows as sweet-thing and her friend take turns returning to the bar to buy more drinks.
At one point, a guy approaches her, getting up in her personal space.
My knuckles turn white as the grip on my beer bottle intensifies.
I feel somewhat relieved when she turns down his advances.
But it is Sinful-Saturday after all, and the night’s still young.
She’s definitely dressed for it, and that thought makes my stomach churn.
A while later, two women approach us. One of them moves in between Grayson and me, slinking her arm over my shoulder. My eyes dart to her. She’s a pretty blonde. Her tits rub against my side as she leans in, whispering in my ear, “Do you want to dance, handsome?”
“No.” My answer comes out more forceful than I intended. Usually, I’d be all over this, but not tonight. This is what I came here for after all, but I’m suddenly no longer in the mood.
Fuck my life.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she coaxes, running her long nails through the side of my hair.
“Go away,” I snap, shrugging her off me.
“Wow. No need to be so rude.” She takes a step back. “Bastard.”
It’s the second time today someone’s called me that.
If the shoe fits, I guess.
I hear Grayson snicker from beside me. “Move along, ladies, someone’s on their period tonight.”
“Fuck off,” I snap.
“Just because your head’s all wrapped up in the babe in red with the killer rack and the mile-long legs, it doesn’t mean you have to ruin my chances of getting laid tonight.”
I grit my teeth. “Stop talking about her rack and legs.”
He throws back his head and laughs, and I know he added in those parts to goad me.
I chug down the rest of my beer, slamming the bottle on the bar. “I’m going to get out of here, you coming?” I need to split before I do something stupid, like go over there.
“Fuck,” he grumbles as he downs his drink. “Guess I’ll be taking care of myself tonight.”
“You say that like it’s foreign to you.” There’s humor in my voice as I speak. “I shared a dorm room with you in college, remember? Considering how many times you’ve manhandled yourself, I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off.”
“Very funny, asshole.”
We both stand, and Grayson flicks his head toward the dance floor as we start moving toward the exit. “Your girl’s got all the moves,” he says, smirking.
“She’s not my girl.”
“Right. So, you wouldn’t mind if I went over there and ground my big cock against that shapely ass of hers?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“She’s so your girl.”
“Remind me again why we’re friends.”