She’s topless. In a strip club.

Jensen. The girl who haunts my dreams is topless in a strip club.

What the hell is my future girlfriend doing topless in a strip club?

I come to a complete stop when I spot her. My friend and roommate Chad, who brought me here tonight, keeps talking, rambling on about strippers.

“These girls take it all off,” Chad says, his voice extra loud. “And I mean all of it. Fully naked. You see everything. Tits and ass and a pretty little kitty cat.” He starts laughing at his crude joke.

I stop listening. Instead, I grab Chad, giving him a look that makes him shut up. Maybe I even stop fucking breathing. Because there she is. Like out of a wet dream. And I was lucky enough to have under me. In my bed. Wrapped all around me.

Every man is staring at her as she walks through the room, like a partially naked sex nymph with a come-hither look in her eyes. She’s like every sexual fantasy come to life. Gorgeous and confident and half-naked, coming right for you.

That’s Jensen. My Jensen.

Turns out, it’s not so hot in real life, when there are a ton of guys wanting pussy looking at the same thing you are.

And the more I study Jensen, the more I realize she doesn’t have a come-hither look on her face. She’s so distracted, she hasn’t even seen me yet.

But I see her. Hell, I see only her, all of her. Her gorgeous tits—tits I’ve kissed and sucked. Her bare shoulders. Her slender, toned arms.

My blood boils in my veins. No, with lust. Wait. No. This feeling is too damn primitive for that. My fists clench at my sides. I want to punch something, but I don’t know who to punch, or what. Even if I knew, I’m not sure I could do it.

It’s like one of those moments in a movie, when you’re frozen in place yet life continues on around you. You can’t move, even though someone is calling your name and strangers are bumping into you as they pass by.

That moment is happening to me. Right now. I’ve just walked into a crowded strip club on a Saturday night and the first person I see is the girl I fucked not even a week ago.

The same girl who slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night, never to be seen again.

The same girl I thought was mine.

A toxic mixture of anger and shock swirls within me and I whisper, “Jensen,” in a low growl of disbelief, though I know she can’t hear me. But now she definitely sees me. I can tell from the surprised expression on her beautiful face that I’m the last person she expected to be here tonight.

Well, the feeling’s mutual, babe.

The black skirt she has on is extra-short and skintight, and the heels she’s wearing are sky-high. She’s carrying an empty tray—really holding it in front of her as if I won’t notice the fact that she’s not wearing a shirt—like she works here.

I slowly shake my head, the realization sinking in. I’m fairly certain she does work at this club. Hell, I sound like a dumbass in my own head, but that’s how slow I’m processing everything.

“Bro, what’s your problem? Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.” Chad—who’s older brother is the guy having the bachelor party we’re here for tonight—nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. “Our table is over there.” He points in the table’s direction, and I see a bunch of guys with flushed faces sitting around a giant table covered with empty glasses.

It takes everything within me to tear my gaze away from Jensen’s, but I somehow manage it. I can still sense her watching me as I follow Chad over to the table, and anger fills me with every step. Seriously, what the hell is she doing here? What made her think it was a smart choice to work at a freaking strip club? And why didn’t she tell me?

I almost snort out loud. That girl didn’t tell me shit. And when she did talk to me, it feels like everything that came out of her mouth was most likely a lie. She’s a liar.

Fake.

It’s embarrassing to realize that the sexy girl I’ve been chasing after for the last month has constantly lied and tricked me. That she works at a strip club as a topless cocktail waitress. If my fraternity brothers found out about this, they’d all be high-fiving me and asking if I get free lap dances. Then they’d probably ask how they could get free lap dances.

Bastards.

I quickly glance over my shoulder as we make our way to the table and find Jensen still watching me. I immediately look away. Anger and curiosity go to war within me, and I wonder which one will win. My guess?

Anger.

In general, I’m a pretty easygoing person. I get along with everyone. I was popular in high school, and I know why—I’m not a judgmental asshole. Yeah, my circumstances could’ve made me a total snob, but I didn’t let that happen. So my dad is worth a lot of money. So what? I’ve never let that define me. I never tried to get anywhere because I’m Parker Montgomery’s son. My older brother—our father’s namesake—uses that shit whenever and wherever to get what he wants. My little sister is too sweet to do that sort of thing.

And then there’s me. The typical middle child who wants everyone to like him.

Right now, though? I don’t give a shit. I’m freaking pissed.

If I’m being totally honest with myself, I’m also hurt. But thinking like that makes me feel like a total baby, so I shove all my hurt little feelings aside and focus on my anger instead.

When we reach our table, they all greet us with drunken shouts and Chad’s older brother Emmett jumps up to pull him into a bear hug. Chad immediately pushes him away, but they’re both laughing and slapping each other on the back. When the bro fest is over, we head for the last remaining empty chairs to settle in.

I’m thrown by seeing Jensen, but determined to have a good time tonight. We’re celebrating Emmett’s last days as a free man, and though I don’t know him that well, it’s a big deal.

I refuse to let that girl ruin my good time.

“You guys want drinks?” Emmett asks as we sit.

Chad nods enthusiastically. “Hell yeah.”

“We just placed another order with the waitress, but she’s moving pretty fast, so it should only be a few minutes.” Emmett grins and leans in closer, his voice lowering. “You should see the tits on this chick. They’re pretty amazing.”

My blood boils, but I smile in response. I’m guessing he’s talking about Jensen. I don’t want to think about anyone else looking at her naked breasts, but I guess that’s not up to me anymore, is it?

“You ever been here before?” Chad asks me as he looks around the crowded room.

“Nope.” I shake my head. This sort of place isn’t my typical scene. I sound like an asshole, but I don’t need to go to a strip club to see naked girls. Hell, go to a sorority party on a Friday night and you’ll see all sorts of topless girls by the end of the evening. You won’t even have to pay a cover charge.

“Me either,” Chad says with a grin, flicking his head toward the stage. “But so far, I like what I see.”

The music is blaring, bright lights flashing in time with the beat, and there’s some hot mostly-naked girl writhing around on the stage. She’s clad in a red G-string and nothing else, her enormous boobs swinging as she sways to the music. She tosses her head, her long black hair sweeping across her shoulders, and when she draws closer to the guys sitting by the stage, one of them leaps to his feet to stuff a twenty in her G-string. He snaps the waistband, his fingers lingering on her bare hip, and she flashes him a look, wagging her finger at him as she gracefully backs away from him to resume her dance.

“Hope you brought lots of extra dollar bills,” Chad says as he starts to laugh. I like my roommate, but he’s rarely as funny as he thinks he is. “I know I have plans on stuffing them in more than a few G-strings tonight.”

“Go ahead and get started then,” I say, waving my hand toward the stage. The stripper’s fingers are curled around the thin waistband of her nonexistent panties, like she’s ready to shed them at any moment. “Looks like she’s still working for them.”

With a dirty smile stretching his lips, Chad takes off toward the stage, waving a fiver at the stripper, though she’s not even looking at him. Rolling my eyes, I turn back toward the table just in time to watch Jensen make her approach with a full tray of drinks.

“Here you go, boys,” she calls, her voice ringing hollow despite the forced cheer. She starts dispensing drinks, every single guy at the table staring at her chest, with the exception of me.

Been there, done that.

“Hey, we have some new guys who just showed up,” Emmett tells Jensen, his eyes going from her face to her tits in rapid-fire motion. “You want a drink, right, Chad?”

He’s not even paying enough attention to us to realize Chad isn’t at the table. “Chad will be right back,” I tell Emmett, who grimaces when he looks my way. “And yeah, I definitely want a drink.” My gaze lands on Jensen, and she guiltily averts her head.

The anger simmers in my blood as I watch her, and I think of all the shitty things I could say to her. She’d deserve it too, for all the lies she told me. Did she tell me anything that was true? Or was it all a bunch of crap?

I don’t even know anymore.

Chad miraculously reappears, sweat beading his forehead and a glazed look in his eyes. He collapses in the chair next to mine. “I want a beer and a tequila shot,” he tells Jensen’s chest.

“Hold on little brother,” Emmett says, amusement in voice. “Let her give everyone else their drinks first.”

Jensen seems to move extra slow as she hands out the rest of the drinks, and I remain stiff, trying my best to look indifferent as she draws closer. Her nearness is unsettling. I can smell her familiar sweet scent, and it both arouses me and pisses me off.

The last time I was with her, I was balls-deep inside her tight little body, savoring the way she touched me, how she called my name when I made her come. That night had been amazing. Unbelievable. I think I came three times, maybe four. And I’m pretty certain I made her come at least five times…

“What would you like?” Jensen’s voice interrupts my dirty thoughts, and I glance up at her, my gaze narrowed. I can’t think about what she looks like when she comes, or how beautiful she was that night. Her naked skin flushed, her lips swollen, her nipples hard and damp from my mouth.

Yeah. Can’t think about any of that.

“What beer do you have on tap?” I lift my brows, silently daring her to say something more. Is she really not going to acknowledge that we know each other?

Am I also going to sit here and pretend I don’t know her?

Looks like it.

She rattles off a few different beers, her voice shaky, and I choose one of the local IPAs, the bot of us looking past each other. Like strangers. She takes down my order and Chad’s, and I watch her as she walks away, heading toward the bar.

“She’s hot,” Chad says.

“Uh huh.”

“She was giving you the look.”

I turn my head, glaring at Chad. “What do you mean?” What is he talking about? We barely made eye contact.

“She kept…I don’t know, looking at you. Like she was interested.” He shrugs. “Maybe you should go for it. She’s got a great body.”

“I don’t go for skanks who work at strip clubs,” I sneer. The moment the words leave me, I feel like shit. Because I actually do go for skanks who work at strip clubs.

I just didn’t realize it until tonight.