This was not the way that Layla Long had envisioned spending her eighteenth birthday.

The juvenile detention center of Oasis, Arizona was stifling. Layla could feel long trails of sweat dribbling down her spine and pooling in the small of her back. It soaked through the elastic band of her high-riding thong, sticking it to her flesh as she waited for the correctional officer to return. He’d gone to check on the air conditioning nearly ten minutes ago, and what little patience Layla had was running thin.

This was all her parents’ idea, and it was probably the stupidest one they’d had yet. Just because they’d caught her smoking a little weed and found the fake ID she used to go drinking at the clubs she was too young for didn’t mean that the cops ever would.

And besides, she was eighteen today. There wasn’t anything they could do to stop her now.

She fanned herself with her hand and pushed up her sunglasses as they slid down her sweat-slicked face. On top of everything else, she had a wicked hangover. This was quickly turning out to be the worst birthday ever.

She gathered up the length of her hair and lifted it away from her neck, fished a hair tie out of the pocket of her too-tight, hip-hugger jeans, and wrapped it around her golden locks until only the tiniest strands were left matted to her skin. Layla hated Arizona summers almost as much as she hated Oasis itself. She couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Her thoughts turned to LA. It would be such a dream to live there. She bet Katy Perry didn’t have these problems.

The door at the end of the hall opened and Layla looked over, blowing a sweltering breath from between her pink, pouty lips. Officer Maddock, her painfully obese tour guide, was waddling down the hall toward her, his uniform stained with oceans of malodorous sweat. She wrinkled her nose as she watched him daub a handkerchief against his forehead, collecting the beads threatening to spill into his muddy eyes.

“The system’s shot,” he announced once he’d come close enough for her to smell him. “There’s nothin’ they can do ‘til the techs get here.” He blew out a gust of air that smelled almost as bad as his body did and added, “Let this be another reason that you don’t ever wanna come here. Can you imagine bein’ stuck in your cell in this kinda heat?”

Layla rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t be coming here, anyway. Today’s my birthday. I’m eighteen now.”

“What, you think that county or state’s got it any better than us?” He laughed. “Juvie’s practically a five-star resort, compared to those hellholes. If you think this is bad, you just go on and get into trouble as an adult and see how that suits you.”

“Is that a dare or a double dare?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I get it,” Officer Maddock said, dripping globs of sweat from his waddle onto the floor as he nodded. “You think you’re clever. Well, let me learn you somethin’—I’ve seen plenty of clever girls pass through here, and I’ve seen heaps more occupyin’ cells a helluva lot smaller than these in the Paradise County prison. You ain’t nothin’ special.”

“That’s not what the boys say,” Layla countered, looking the officer up and down behind her dark shades. “I bet even a fat slob like you wants a piece of this ass. You’ve probably been thinking about it ever since I told you I was eighteen. Maybe even before that.”

Officer Maddock pressed his small, pale lips into a line and furrowed his brow. “Then the best thing a girl like you can do is get hitched to some old fart with a lotta inheritance to leave behind, ‘cause at the rate you’re goin’, you ain’t gonna be good for much else.”

Layla splayed her hand across chest and batted her long, inky lashes. “Was that a proposal, officer?” she breathed. Then she smirked and dropped her hand. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re not my type.”

“Oh, I think I know exactly who your type might be, though,” he answered, mopping up another deluge of sweat with his abused handkerchief, this time from his jowls. “Get your ass off the wall and follow me. I’m gonna show you what happens to those bad boys you soak your panties over.”

Layla rolled her eyes again and pushed off the wall with a groan, grimacing at the sweaty outline she left behind as she followed Officer Maddock down the hallway to a dark blue door. As he set about unlocking it, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of vindication for him. He seemed like the chubby, pizza-faced boy who had watched all the jocks sweep his unattainable crushes off their feet in high school. Seeing them end up in a cell probably gave him a stiffy—not that he’d be able to see it to tell for sure.

“Let’s see how sexy these guys are once you see ‘em behind bars,” he ominously intoned, swinging open the door and gesturing toward the cell block on the other side. “After you.”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted, cocking out a hip. “You’re sending me to look over a bunch of hot, sweaty boys who are not only hard up for some female attention, but probably shirtless, too? And this is supposed to be a punishment? You might as well have invited a lioness into a meat market.”

Then, ignoring his pitiful attempt at an intimidating glare, Layla strode past Officer Maddock and into the boys ward of the Oasis Juvenile Detention Center.

It was not what she had expected.

The vast majority of the inmates were scraggly, dirty, and anemic, to say the least. There were a bunch of Hispanic guys with shitty gang tats emblazoned on their bronze skin—the sigils of Los Santos, La Raza, and Los Zetas were the ones she recognized right off. They were all still wannabes, by the looks of it. They probably thought they could earn their stripes just by sitting in a juvie cell.

Layla walked past them, her eyes shifting over their wanting bodies and avoiding the dark, lustful gazes they offered her in return. A few came close to the little strip of Plexiglas built into their cell doors, their sunken eyes straining to get a better look at her ass as she walked by.

Great, she thought. Another waste of my time. The bad boys she went after looked nothing like this. They must have been the ones too smart to get caught.

Or maybe, she continued, her eyes settling on a mass of corded muscle crammed into the cell directly in front of her. They just weren’t bad enough…

He was so unlike the other inmates; so hard and chiseled that he might have been a Greek statue someone had tucked away for safe keeping. His undershirt was off and his pylon-orange jumpsuit was crumpled down around his hips, exposing every rippling bit of his gleaming flesh to Layla’s hungry eyes—well, above the waist, anyway.

She squinted, trying to fill in the blanks she couldn’t see beneath the ill-fitting jumpsuit rumpled over his legs. Unable to suss out any of the details, she inched closer for a better look.

That was when he lifted his gaze to meet hers, capturing her breath with a single glint of his brilliant, burnt jade eyes.

Layla froze, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as he stared at her from under his dark brows. Then his eyes began to trail downward, slithering over the curves of her body in a way that made her feel dirty and used.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She wanted more.

“Figures he’d be the one you picked out,” Officer Maddock blurted out behind her. She jumped, spun on him, and he continued: “That’s Jesse King, the so-called president of the Marauders MC.”

Layla opened her mouth to snap at him, then frowned instead.

“The motorcycle club?” she asked, turning her attention back to the cell and jumping again as she found herself at eye-level with him.

Jesse’s face was pressed close to the Plexiglas barrier, eyeing her even more lasciviously than before, although Layla hadn’t known that such a thing was possible. The way his gaze lingered on her tits made her nipples tingle, and as they hardened, she saw his eyes crinkle at the corners. She knew he was grinning, even if his teeth were hidden on the other side of the steel door.

“That’s the one,” Officer Maddock answered. “They’re mostly just a bunch’a troubled teens. Or at least they were, until Jesse came around.”

“Why?” Layla asked. “What’s he in for?”

“This time? He got into a fight at the Bottle Cap Saloon. Almost broke the guy clean in half.” He shook his head and his chins jiggled. “We think it was a club rivalry.”

Layla chewed on the skin of her lower lip as she looked deep into Jesse’s eyes. “So he’s dangerous?”

“Oh, yeah,” Officer Maddock chuckled. “This ain’t his first rodeo.” Then he leaned over Layla’s shoulder and whispered, “And if he can do that, think of what he could do to you.”

Oh, I am, Layla thought, though she folded her arms over her breasts to hide them from Jesse’s view. She’d never say it out loud, but Maddock’s warning gave her pause. If Jesse King would tear a man apart in a crowded room, what would he do to her if she was left alone with him?

As her excitement waned, she dragged her eyes away from Jesse’s hypnotic gaze and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“All right,” she said to Officer Maddock. “I think I’m ready to go home.”