Prologue

Ass, good.

Sass, great.

Class, a must.

Three things I look for in the perfect woman.

I know, I know, beggars can't be choosers...

But one can dream.

Unfortunately, even if I did meet the right woman, I'd have absolutely nothing to offer her.

No money, no status, not even a proper roof over my head.

All I've got is notoriety.

A shit ton of it.

But chicks don't exactly drool over damaged bad boys. Not the sane ones anyway.

And I'm fucking done with crazies. I've met enough crazies to last me a lifetime.

But, God...what I wouldn't give to feel a woman underneath me again.

Or on top of me.

Her hot thighs wrapped around mine...

Feverish kisses, lusty moans, yanking my hair, arching her back...screaming my name.

Oh Kieran, spank me harder!

Ride me, Kieran, take me!

I need to get laid. Bad.

But I'm broke and I'm broken.

I have pennies to my name and no prospects. Not exactly attractive, I know.

So how the hell am I supposed to turn my life around?

Then I meet her.

Rachelle Wu.

Within seconds, I'm hooked.

Within minutes, I'm hypnotized.

Within days, I'm hungover and hung up about her.

You see, she's getting married in less than a week.

And I can't do anything about it.

Or can I?

* * *

CHAPTER ONE - RACHELLE

“You didn’t hire a stripper did you?” I groaned, sinking into the leather sofa next to Terri.

“Rachelle, it's your bachelorette party, and I'm your maid of honor. I can hire whomever I damn well please,” Terri replied, trying to suppress her characteristic smirk.

I glared at her, then at my two other bridesmaids. Callista and Rose were both wearing skintight minidresses and five-inch stilettos. All three of them were goddesses who pulled off smoky eyes and bold lipstick better than I ever could. All three of them were trying not to laugh. “What are you guys up to?” I asked.

They shrugged. Rose's cheeks bloomed with color, which spoke volumes. She sat up a little straighter, auburn curls bouncing. “Rach, chill.”

They were hiding something.

“Just relax, babe, let loose and enjoy your night,” Callista said. “Have a little fun.”

“Yeah,” a third voice added. “It'll be a blast.” I turned to see Sierra walking toward us. As usual, my boss’s wife (turned BFF) looked radiant in an understated way. Tonight, she was wearing an empire waist maternity dress that showcased her adorable baby bump. Compared to her elegant appearance, I looked like a hooker in my neon pink minidress. “Rach, you need more fun in your life,” Sierra said, taking a seat beside me. “All work and no play, makes Rach a dull lay.”

“Sierra!” I cried.

“Too far?”

“I do have fun,” I said. “Just in my own way.”

“Babe, tonight, we'll show you how we have fun.” Terri said.

Heat snaked up my back and burned my earlobes. “I’m normal,” I protested. “I—” I bit my bottom lip. Hard. Enough for it to sting a little. Okay, so I liked staying home more than going out. I enjoyed reading in bed more than clubbing or bar-hopping. My idea of a fun Friday night was re-arranging the bedroom décor. There was nothing wrong with being an introverted, twenty-five-year-old bookworm. Nothing.

“Have a little faith in us,” Sierra encouraged. “You'll never get an opportunity like this again.”

“Fine,” I said, chewing my lip. “You're right. It is my night.”

Terri couldn't stop grinning and her excitement caused dread to coil tighter in my stomach. She'd promised, to my face, there would be no strippers! Liar. “What's next?” I asked.

“Shots on me!” Callista said. “Time to get this party started!”

“None for me,” Sierra reminded Callista, rubbing her watermelon-sized belly.

“I know that, Sisi.” Callista waltzed to the bar and I could see her chatting with the hot bartender. She was twirling her hair around her fingers and giggling. Ever since she dumped her last boyfriend two months ago, she'd been on an aggressive dating binge: a new man on her arm every other week. Last year, I met Callista through Sierra; the two had been best friends since sophomore year at college. Callista's father owned Bar None, the hottest nightclub in Northbridge, which was why she suggested the venue for my bachelorette party. “Open bar,” she'd said, “and free food.” Who could turn down that kind of offer? Of course, Terri, my maid of honor, also jumped at the idea. I’d met her four years ago when she first started dating my co-worker and friend, Mike Hannigan. Turns out, we had a mutual friend: Rose Hathaway, a TV show producer who we quickly brought into the fold. Now, the five of us formed an inseparable clique. I was the token Asian chick in our group, and easily the most reserved out of all of them. They were always trying to pull me out of my comfort zone, but my strict Chinese upbringing fought their efforts at every turn. Now that I was getting married in a week, this was their last-ditch attempt to bring out my wild side.

It was a Friday night, and Bar None’s three-thousand square foot space was packed to the limit. A trio of tipsy redheads sang the national anthem nearby, while six jersey-clad frat boys played Quarters to our left. Just coming to a place like this was atypical for me. I felt, as the saying went, like a fish out of water. Drowning in air that was oversaturated with B.O., cologne, and cheap perfume. I wiped a sweaty palm against my thigh and said a little prayer. I'd already gone way out of my comfort zone by wearing this ridiculous dress that Terri picked out. I wasn't sure if I could do what they wanted me to do next.

Callista returned with a huge tray of shots for everyone except Sierra. “To Rachelle, our blushing bride-to-be!” she said, raising her glass and sloshing a few droplets of tequila on the back of her hand. “May she have the night of her life.”

A round of giggles made its way through the group. We licked salt and knocked back our drinks.

“Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever’,” Callista suggested, looping her arms around my shoulders.

I set down my shot glass and said, “Hold on. First, tell me what you guys are up to.” I scanned the club, a nervous flutter tickling my ribcage. I needed to prepare myself for whatever bat-shit crazy scheme they threw my way.

“Stop worrying for two seconds and just go with the flow,” Terri said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll start. Never have I ever…had a threesome.”

I looked at my friends to see if anyone would do a shot. Rose, whose face matched her hair at this point, knocked back her drink.

“Seriously, Rose?” I said.

She swallowed hard. “One time in college. It was awful. My turn. Never have I ever…dated someone twice my age.”

Four rounds and several shots later, the room started to blur. The thundering house music and my friends' chatter reverberated through my skull. Amplified one moment, muted the next. The ground shook underneath me and an incessant thump-thump-thump in my eardrums made me nauseous. I'd always been a lightweight, and tonight was no exception. I felt a cool hand drag my arm down to the dance floor. “You're getting married in a week, Rachelle,” Terri said, “and I bet you've never done a wild thing in your life before.”

“I don't want to be wild. I like the way I am,” I said over the din of the music. The bass was so heavy it nearly knocked me off my feet. My body felt like jelly jiggling around on a saucer.

“Come on...there must be some part of you...even a little part, that wants to do more? See more?” Terri said.

“I have a steady job, great friends and a loving fiancé,” I said. “I'm set.”

“I bet you've never even danced with a stranger before,” Terri said, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“What are you—”

“You see that hunk over there? Huge biceps, rippling body? I think he wants to dance with you,” Terri said, nudging me in the shoulder.

I turned to see who she was talking about. My gaze fell on massive shoulders and clothes so tight they left nothing to the imagination. That ‘hunk’ was built like a goddamn semi. And he was staring right at me.

“You promised you wouldn't hire a stripper,” I hissed.

Rob would be so pissed!

“He's not a stripper,” Terri said. “Just go dance with him. He's been checking you out for the past ten minutes. And he’s good enough to eat.”

“Did you—” Before I could protest more, Terri gave me a little shove and I stumbled forward. When I finally regained my balance, I found myself staring at a lean, t-shirt-clad torso. A large, warm hand caught my waist and I gasped. “Are you okay?” came a smooth, velvety voice.

I nodded and righted myself. “Yeah. I'm sorry I—”

The hand did not leave my waist. Its warmth radiated through my body. I felt five fingers curl into my skin and draw me closer to an impossibly hard body. Based on what I could see, his physique was the stuff of daydreams. A figure you'd find gracing the covers of romance novels and men's fitness magazines. Cliché, but 100% true.

Damnn.

“Dance with me,” he said, in an accent I couldn't quite place.

Tiny sparks ignited in my belly and my breath hitched. Was he talking to me?

The man had a mop of dark, messy hair and a sultry smile played on his lips. Midnight lashes framed gray pupils flecked with turquoise. Swoon.

“I—I shouldn't,” I started to say. The sexy stranger silenced me by flipping me around and pressing himself against my backside. Evidently, he didn’t take no for an answer. I suddenly realized his words weren’t a request; they were a command. His large hands drifted to my hips, lightly stroking them up and down. Every nerve ending in my body oscillated with unexpected fervor.

When the next R&B song came on, I could feel something hard dig into my backside.

I swallowed hard. No effing way.

I tried to turn around but he kept me facing forward, his curious fingers skimming my waist now. Dangerously close to the undersides of my breasts. My dress felt like a straitjacket, squeezing me so hard I couldn't breathe. My brain also must've short-circuited, because I was actually grinding with this stranger instead of running for the hills. Clearly, all logic had abandoned me and I was too overwhelmed to even form a single, coherent thought.

A groan escaped my lips. Or was it more of a purr? Did it come from me or him?

Stiff as a board, I managed to shuffle from side to side, helpless as the stranger tortured me with his hot length and washboard abs.

Was...Was this really happening?

No, no—this felt like one of Terri's pranks. They were probably all laughing their asses off on the sidelines. Deriving pleasure from my pain. Masochists.

I felt violated and aroused at the same time, a delicious swathe of goosebumps prickling along my arms. “This is so not good,” I murmured. “Shit, shit, shit…”

My nipples peaked and I whimpered as my traitorous body continued to move to the music.

Did this count as cheating? Oh my God, what would Rob think?

Even though this was wrong in so many ways, it also felt so right in many other ways. For one, I had a walking fantasy rubbing up against me. My body was so hot right now I’d need an ice bath afterward to cool down. And he chose me. Out of all the hot women in the club, he picked me to shamelessly grind up against! It was a huge ego boost but…

My mind drifted to Rob again.

Stupid, stupid conscience.

I couldn't do this to him, even if it was my bachelorette party...

God, everything was so loud and chaotic. The flashing lights made me dizzy and nauseous. That, coupled with the alcohol sloshing in my belly made me want to hurl. Claustrophobia flooded through me, putting my body back on high alert.

Breathe in, breathe out, Rach.

This is a huge mistake. I shouldn’t lead him on.

I wanted, no needed, to get out of here. Some crisp winter air would sober me up. Besides, I could feel a migraine ratcheting against my skull. The night was quickly spiraling out of control and I needed some alone time to gather my thoughts.

Count, Rachelle. Thirty-two, twenty-nine, twenty-six, twenty-three, twenty, seventeen, fourteen, eleven…

I tried to pull away, but the man circled my waist with his palms splayed, holding me back. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck, while his pelvis rubbed circles against my ass. His arousal was growing by the second.

God almighty.

If Terri was behind this, I was going to murder her, I swear to God. No, Terri was definitely behind this. In all the twenty-five years I'd been alive (and the ten years I'd been dating), a hot stranger like him would never look twice at a skinny Asian girl like me. I cleared my throat. “Listen, I know my friend probably paid you a lot of money to do this, but I'm really not interested. Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

“No one paid me anything, baby, I just think you're cute,” came his voice behind me. Buttery and damn smooth. He was so close to my ear I shivered. “You came here to have fun, didn't you?” he asked.

“I'm engaged,” I snapped, a bit more vehemently than I intended. “About to get married next week. So please, just leave me alone.”

I was about to run off when the stranger grabbed my wrist. “I need your help, Rachelle.”

I stopped. “How do you know my name?”

“Terri hired me,” the man explained. “My name is Kieran Mahoney.”

I knew it. Terri Hanover, you're so dead! To think...I actually fell for it…Shame mixed with the tequila swirling in my veins. I was so naive! I felt light-headed. “Terri hired you? So I was right, you are a stripper,” I said, trying to spot my friends in the crowd. They were going to pay big time for this fiasco.

“No, I'm not.” Kieran said. “I'm Cameron's brother. I needed some money. Terri hired me to give you the night of your life.”

“Ew!” I shook him off and scowled. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“Not like that, Rachelle. Terri wanted me to take you around town and bring out your wild side. Entertain you with some fun memories before you got shacked up.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I don't have a wild side. And I'm certainly not going to run off with some stranger at—” I glanced at the clock, “—eleven p.m. on a Thursday night, to rediscover myself.”

I was about to leave when Kieran stopped me again. “I need the money, Rachelle. Terri won't pay me until the job's done. And you know Cam, so I’m not really a stranger.”

He had a point. I did know Cameron. We weren’t close, but Cameron was my boss, Asher’s best friend. And Cam was good friends with Callista, Terri and Sierra. Clearly, all my friends trusted Kieran by association, right?

“Exactly how much did Terri promise to pay you?” I asked.

“A thousand bucks.”

A thousand dollars? I was supposed to be furious, but all I could think about was Kieran’s goddamn accent. I’d never heard anything quite like it. It wasn’t Irish, like Cameron’s. It almost sounded British, but not quite. “Are you fricking kidding me? Why would she do that?”

“Well, a part of that is the entertainment fee: the cost of food, drinks, tickets or whatever we need to buy,” Kieran explained. “The rest, I get to keep.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said, backing away. “I can't, I'm sorry.”

“I need this money, Rachelle.” His eyes were soft. Pleading. “I'm not a bad guy, I swear. Think of me as a friend of a friend, alright?”

I swallowed his story with a healthy dose of skepticism. He seemed desperate, almost panicky for this money and for a second I wondered if there was something bad he wasn't telling me. After a few moments though, I caved. His long lashes and puppy dog eyes were too much for me. I silenced the nagging ninny in my head and sucked in a deep breath. “Fine,” I said. “But you try to pull any more dirty moves on me when we're alone and I'll mace you and call the cops.”

“No need to get the police involved. I swear, I'll be good,” Kieran said, holding up his hands. “I'm just trying to make some quick cash.”

“Now what?” I asked. I still didn't see Terri or the girls anywhere. Beads of sweat rolled down my face.

Note to self: find them tomorrow and rip them a new one.

“They've already left,” Kieran said, answering my unspoken question. “I told Terri I'd text her tomorrow. She said to tell you to relax and have fun.”

“How did you know I’d say yes?” I asked.

Kieran winked. “I had a feeling.”

“I'm not happy about this,” I grumbled.

“So...should we get out of here?” Kieran asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. It's stuffy as hell in here and I need a breather.”

* * *

CHAPTER TWO - KIERAN

When Terri Hanover hired me for this hen’s night gig, she neglected to mention that the bride-to-be was smoking hot. From one to ten, Rachelle was a nine-and-a-half. I deducted half a point only because her club wear did not suit her personality or flatter her figure. Everything else was damn near perfect. Silky hair, silkier curves, and the smallest dimple on her left cheek. And those wide, innocent eyes…Eyes that I hoped would never see what I’d seen in my rough life…

Rachelle was the most stunning woman I’d seen face-to-face, in the last ten years. No contest.

Her maid of honor, Terri’s exact instructions had been, “Be a little wild, but don’t do anything too dangerous.” They weren’t exactly clear guidelines, but I understood her intention. According to her, Rachelle was a goody-two-shoes who could be very introverted and uptight. Terri said her best friend needed to spend some time out of her comfort zone. That’s where I came in. My task: to tease and flirt my way through the night, and leave Rachelle with a few exhilarating and unforgettable memories. It was supposed to be a simple job. In and out. Charm the girl, take her for a joyride on my Harley, have some fun and collect my dues in the morning.

But something told me that this night had already gotten complicated.

The moment I touched her, things got complicated. Rachelle roused feelings in me that’d lain dormant for ten years.

It’d been far too long since I had a woman: felt her skin against mine, took in her scent, her sounds…

Rachelle elicited certain manly, uncontrollable urges inside me. Now, I wasn’t a shallow man, but I was still a man. And when a man rubbed up against a pretty girl, well…

Little Kieran had a mind of his own.

Rachelle felt it too, I knew she did. My arousal was plain as day.

Her curves set my skin on fire. Her voice sent all my blood coursing straight down to my cock. She drove me all kinds of crazy.

Not good.

I’d begun to crave a woman that belonged to someone else.

Lust after a woman who was getting married in seven days.

I’d begged her to come with me. But now that she’d said yes, I was actually a bit nervous. Unfortunately, I really had no choice. I needed the money.

Rachelle was scared of me. I could see it in her doe eyes. She didn’t trust me.

I didn’t trust me either, so that made two of us.

I was fucking screwed.

* * *

CHAPTER THREE- RACHELLE

Kieran grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd. We navigated around several tables, drunks and servers before reaching the back exit. A blast of icy air slammed into me as he opened the door to the back alley.

It was pitch dark, save for some yellow streetlights illuminating a slippery back road. The air reeked of vomit and rotting trash. I was freezing in my garish dress and I suddenly realized that I'd left my jacket and purse in Terri's car. Crap. Even if I wanted to mace Kieran, I couldn't. And I didn't have a phone. I felt downright stupid for agreeing to come. I clutched my sides, trying not to shiver.

“Here.” Kieran draped something warm and heavy across my numb shoulders. A leather jacket. It smelled of cologne, menthol cigarettes and him. An inexplicably sexy and masculine combination.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. My heels clicked behind him as we walked out of the alley, toward the main road. It was the dead of night and all my friends ditched me. Great. I was stuck in Eastport without a ride home. No money, cellphone, ID, nothing. Did they even realize what kind of predicament they put me in? What if this Kieran turned out to be a rapist or serial killer? They didn’t know anything about him. I was completely at his mercy. The broken street ahead seemed to stretch forever. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Don't worry, I'm not a serial killer,” Kieran said, as if reading my mind.

I scoffed. “So you say.”

Kieran twisted around, his dark gaze trained on mine. In two steps he was in front of me, wrapping his large hands around my neck. “If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be dead already. But lucky for you, I'm just a man looking to get paid in the morning. Now stop acting so scared around me. I already told you, I’m not a bad guy.”

Panic clawed my throat, and I swallowed hard. My face scrunched in anticipation of pain. He wasn't holding me hard or anything, in fact, it was more of a caress than a chokehold. But knowing that he was so strong and I, so feeble, made me weak in the knees. I bit my wind-chapped lips and swallowed again.

Kieran let me go and we walked in silence for a few more minutes before he stopped in front of a Harley. It gleamed under the streetlights, a vision of chrome and leather.

“This yours?” I asked, gawking at the motorcycle.

Kieran nodded. “My first love. Her name’s Halle.” He knelt down, unclipped an extra helmet and tossed it to me. “Let's go.”

I'd never been on a motorcycle before, but I didn't want him to think I was a priss so I shoved on the heavy helmet, tightened the straps and nodded. How convenient, that he just happened to have an extra helmet. His bike was named Halle…after an ex-girlfriend perhaps? Not that I cared. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” Kieran replied, starting the engine. “Hop on.”

I tried to spread my legs in order to mount the bike, but my dress refused to budge. Watching me struggle, Kieran smirked. “That dress doesn’t suit you.”

I groaned. “It’s Terri’s. She made me wear it since I had nothing ‘suitable’ in my own closet.”

Kieran bent down on one knee, studied my dress and then ripped the left seam a little. “There.”

My jaw dropped. “You could’ve asked first!” I said, running a finger over the four-inch tear.

“Let’s go,” he said, helping me onto his bike.

Minutes later I was clutching his waist for dear life as we zipped down the Interstate. Wind whistled past my ears. I was still wearing his leather jacket, which meant he was driving in the drizzle with nothing but a t-shirt on. He didn't seem to mind though. I pressed against him harder, hoping I could at least keep his backside warm. Cold air dealt paper cuts against my eyes, so I squeezed them shut.

The tequila from earlier had given me the courage to leave Bar None, but now, I felt way out of my element. And very, very sleepy...

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, we arrived in front of Eastport Casino. It’s massive, glittering lights beckoned us inside.

After getting off Kieran's bike and combing my fingers through my tangled black hair I said, “You want to show me the night of my life at a casino? Is this your idea of getting wild?”

Kieran smirked. “If you want wild, I can give you wild.”

“How wild can you get?” I asked, immediately hating myself for saying something laced with innuendo.

“Pretty fucking wild, baby.”

“Well, if my best friend's paying you a thousand bucks, I will expect at least a lap dance at some point,” I said, trying to hold back a grin. I was feigning a flirtatious confidence I did not have. Looking straight ahead, I started walking toward the casino entrance.

“I thought you wanted me to play nice,” Kieran said, catching up to me. “What would your fiancé think?”

I shrugged. Keeping my voice low and even, I said, “He's at the strip club with his buddies for his bachelor party. I'm guessing he'll be getting a lap dance there.”

Kieran let out a hum. “Well, we'll have to see how things go. I'm not sure you deserve a lap dance from me.” He winked. Moments later, I felt his thick, ropy arm loop around my shoulder and I didn't shrug it off. It was a friendly gesture, I told myself, that was all.

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