“Close your eyes.”

I barely hear the command over the frantic pounding of my heart.

The blindfold dangling from her finger swings like a pendulum and I try to wrap my head around what she’s asking. Everything is starting to feel a bit disjointed and it’s taking a little longer for my brain to process things than usual.

Not in a bad way though. Far from it. I feel like I’m floating in a balloon of helium that’s sailing through a sky made of cotton candy.

A laugh bubbles out of me, because that doesn’t even make any sense.

Get a grip, Kit. Or you will ruin everything.

Nodding, I do what she says and the silk material is placed over my eyes. After Jess secures it in place, I rest the back of my head against the hotel room door we managed to fumble our way through only moments earlier.

My heart knocks against my chest like a jackhammer and I place my hand over it, hoping the action will prevent it from jumping out of my body.

An image of a cartoon heart with wings permeates my mind and I laugh again.

It’s not funny, but it expels some of my anxiety and helps me ride out the waves of nerves that keep rippling through me. I want her and I want this, but I’m so scared I’m going to do something to mess it all up. Or worse—she’ll come to her senses and realize what a dork I am and my feelings about being way out of her league will be confirmed.

“Sounds like someone’s enjoying themselves. Mind if I join the party?”

I open my mouth to respond that she is the party, but then Jess lifts my dress up and her mouth finds the fluttering spot between my legs.

Warmth spreads through me and I gasp when she tugs my panties down with her teeth. I eagerly kick them to the side, not wanting to waste another second. I’m so ready for this. I’ve been so ready for this.

Her breath hits my bare skin, and I feel the sensation all the way down to my toes. She licks a hot line along my slit, and my balloon floats higher and higher. I got her off in the hallway before, but I wasn’t sure if she was going to reciprocate, and I’m not the kind of girl to ask or beg someone to; no matter how much I’m aching for it.

But as it turns out, I didn’t have to with Jess, because she knows what I need without me having to tell her. She repeats the movement and I moan as the balloon I’m in escalates and my knees start shaking. Or maybe it’s the earth beneath my feet that’s quivering. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this, and thanks to the alcohol and the ecstasy in my system making me even more sensitive, along with the blindfold heightening my senses; I’m liable to come apart with the next soft brush of her tongue.

“You ready to have even more fun?”

I lick my lips and nod, hating that I’m being deprived of the visual of her pleasuring me, but not wanting to be a buzz kill.  “Yes.” My voice is a thick rasp laced with need. I need to come so badly I can’t see straight. Actually, I can’t see because of the blindfold, but that’s beside the point. I’m dying for Jess to have her naughty way with me.  

The tip of her finger circles my clit and I swear I see stars.

“Look how wet she is.”

I’m so far gone, drifting aimlessly like a feather in the wind, I’m not even bothered that she’s talking about my pussy like it’s a separate entity. Without warning, the soft feminine touch between my thighs is replaced with sharp, scraping stubble and a muffled masculine voice groans, “You were right, Jessica. She is perfect.”

Like the flip of a switch my stomach lurches, my blissful balloon pops, and I start freefalling.

On instinct, I kick the man who has no right to be so close to such an intimate part of my body as hard as I can and rip my blindfold off.  

My eyes dart around the room, adjusting to the dim light. I look at Jess first and then at the man hunched over, howling in pain. A man I’ve never seen in my life.

Blood drips from his nose onto his crisp white shirt. “What the fuck?”

What the fuck is right. I can’t fathom how the hell I ended up in this messed up position. Jess never once mentioned a guy joining us. Heck, I wasn’t aware she swung that way. I never would have pursued things with her in the first place if she did. I learned my lesson about dating bi-curious girls a long time ago, thanks to Becca.

“Oh my God,” Jess says, rushing over to him. “Are you okay, Jared?”

My mind reverts back to last Friday at the office when she was on the phone, but I don’t have time to scrutinize the thought because Jess screams, “Shit. I think you broke his nose. Go get some ice, Kit.”

Is she seriously asking me to provide aid to the jerk who stuck his face between my legs without my permission?

I swallow back bile as everything hits me like a Mack truck.

Seven minutes ago, I was handing this girl my mangled and maimed heart in the middle of a hotel hallway and begging her not to hurt me.

Two minutes ago, I was soaring while offering her a part of me I don’t give to just anyone. Not anymore.

And one minute ago, she was granting permission on my behalf for some guy to use me as his plaything. After she…after I…

My hand flies to my stomach. God, I feel sick. Sick and betrayed. And so goddamn stupid.

“What are you waiting for? Get the fucking ice!” Jess barks like I’m nothing more than an employee she can boss around.

Because that’s all I am to her.

If her actions didn’t already make that blatantly obvious to me, the fact that she’s cradling some old dude’s head in her hands and tending to him instead of the girl she hurt does.

I refuse to spend another second in this room, so I snatch my purse and run out the door.

Tears prickle my eyes as it slams shut behind me, but it isn’t until I’m halfway down the hall that I allow the first one to break free.

Curling my arms around myself, I take the elevator down to my floor, ignoring the looks I get from strangers.

I feel so dirty and used. I want to peel my skin off and soak it in bleach. But the icky feeling pales in comparison to the way my heart stings or how my soul blisters with sorrow.

I'm so bad at love I should be court ordered to have the statement tattooed on my forehead in capital letters.

I thought Jess was different from all the others and we had something special. Turns out she was just another delusion. I blink up at the ceiling. If I keep dishing out parts of my heart to the wrong people, pretty soon I won’t have one left.

I rummage through my purse for my key card when I reach my room. Maybe Juan will forgive me, and he’ll lend me a shoulder to cry on tonight.

The sound of skin slapping together and male grunts assault my ears the second I turn the handle.

“Yes, Ronald. Harder, Daddy,” a voice that’s unmistakably Juan’s wails and I quickly close the door.

Christ on a cracker, I could have happily gone my whole life without hearing that. Same can be said regarding the knowledge that Juan’s a bottom.

I shake my head and make my descent down the staircase.  Since staying in my room for the time being is out of the question, I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll go for a walk and clear my head. Or cry. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I just need to breathe before the weight of what Jess did combined with the scab that’s been ripped off my old agonizing wound sends me spiraling down another rabbit hole.

My black four-inch lace-up heels clack against the concrete and I curse myself for not wearing a jacket. It’s Vegas so it’s not like the late January weather here comes close to how brutal it can be in Connecticut, but it’s still chilly.

Then again maybe the cold is good for my anger, because right now it’s rising like a tidal wave. The nerve of Jess. Where does she get off doing that to me? For fuck’s sake, I’m a lesbian. Did she really think I’d be okay with a guy—one I’ve never even met before—performing oral sex on me and God only knows what else? Boss or not—correction, bosses or not, that is not okay.

Freaking porn industry, it’s filled with nothing but drug users, douchebags, and manipulators.

Perhaps that’s a tad judgmental of me, but I’m exasperated and upset.

And sad…because I loved my job.

The realization is a punch to the gut. Not only did I love being the social media manager for Pretty Kitties, but I was damn good at it. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and pride.

But now I’m jobless. Without purpose. Lost and wandering aimlessly. I look around. Both literally and figuratively, because I don’t recognize anything nearby.

I clench my fists, my head spinning like a whirlpool. Fuck that. I won’t let them fire me for their discretions. I’ll sue their asses for sexual misconduct in the workplace. I’m sure the judge will raise an eyebrow considering it’s porn and all, but still. I get a W2 and pay my taxes dammit. I’m an American citizen. I have a right to due process and habeas corpus and all that good stuff. Or is it bad stuff? I don’t know because I’m freaking drunk and high off my ass.

I suck in a breath and try to stop the air from whirling around me. Gosh, I don’t feel so good. As if agreeing with me, my stomach trips over itself like a sorority girl at a keg party. What happened to all the pretty lights and that dome-shaped building that was my hotel? I’ve only been walking for fifteen minutes or so, how far could I have gone?

Evidently far enough because not only is this street not well lit at all, it looks rundown.

Shit. I must be off the Strip. Another round of the spins hits me, and I hold out my arm, bracing myself against the side of a building that’s positively not open for any kind of business. Same can be said for everything in the near vicinity given how eerily quiet it is. This is my own fault for not paying attention. Fortunately, I have my phone with me, so I’ll call an Uber. I’m sure they encounter this kind of thing all the time, so they’ll have no problem figuring out where I am and bringing me back to the hotel.

I just need the twirling in my head to stop for two seconds so I can fish my phone out. Easy peasy.

I don’t want to let go of the building because it’s the only thing keeping me upright, so I reach inside my purse with my free hand. I do a mental fist bump when I locate the sleek object. As soon as I go to take it out, however; something or rather, someone, pummels into me and I lose my bearings and fall.

“Thanks a lot, asshole.”

The asshole in question doesn’t hear me because he’s running faster than the wind, all while carrying what appears to be a duffle bag of some sort. But who knows, it’s dark out and my brain is having what feels like an underwater rave party with my neurons despite my insistence that they take it elsewhere. Not to mention all the alcohol I can feel swooshing around in my belly and filtering out through my veins.

I’m in worse shape than I thought. In fact, this pavement is looking like a mighty good place to crash right about now.

I shake my head, cursing myself when it elicits another round of spins. Shucking the gravel off my hands and knees, I watch Forrest continue his sprint and rise from the ground.

Only to be walloped by another person the second I stand. Fuck a duck, I’m not made of glass. Surely, they can see me. Rude nincompoops.

“Seriously? Does anyone have any manners anymore?”

This guy ignores me and continues running. Same as the first one did. A second later, another dude whizzes by, narrowly missing me.

Good lord, I wasn’t aware Vegas had so many marathon runners training at two in the morning.

The first guy is still ahead but not by much because the guy raging bolts like a cannon. Then he grips the back of the first guy’s shirt and they both tumble down.

Serves them right. I look around to make sure the stampede is over before I stand again.

I pull out my phone once more, but furious yelling snags my attention and when I look at the men, my stomach drops.

The two guys are teaming up and throwing punches at the first guy who’s protecting his duffle bag with his life. Granted he’s big, and he’s holding his own just fine with his one free hand, but two guys against one isn’t a fair fight.

Stay out of it, Kit.

A scream burns in my throat when I see one of them pull out a gun. The guy being attacked doesn’t realize it though, because he’s too busy fighting off the other guy who keeps trying to pry the bag from his grip.

I don’t know what’s so important in that stupid bag, but it’s not worth dying for.

“Hey,” I scream, hoping I’ll startle them enough to scatter, but they’re too far away to hear me.

Don’t go over there, Kit.

My feet start moving on their own accord and while my brain is chastising me for becoming the girl in a horror movie who’s too stupid to live, my heart is thudding with panic as flashbacks of the shooting slice through me like a sizzling knife through butter.

The people who lost their lives will always live on in my guilty conscience, and I will eternally blame myself and wish I could have done something to prevent it.

Maybe this time I can.

Despite the whoosh in my head growing worse, I manage to locate my phone, preparing to call the police. “Give him the bag, he has a gun!”

Two things happen at that moment.

One—the guy with the gun says something in what sounds like Russian right before he points it at me.

And two—a second later, the duffle bag lands at the gunman’s feet with a heavy thud.

“It’s yours, Niko. Now, put the fucking gun down and go.”

The deep rumble of his voice roots me to the spot. I know that voice better than I know my own. It’s the voice that haunts me, plagues me, and twists my insides up so tightly I can’t breathe due to the swell of anger that strangles me whenever he crosses my mind.

It’s the voice of the man who saved me in a school cafeteria…and then turned right around and killed me in the most brutal way.

Straight through my heart.

I shake my head, desperate to hold on to some form of logic. It can’t be him. It’s not him.

I look up at the same time the men start to leave, or at least I think they do. My heart is thrashing so hard it reverberates through my ears and my vision is blurry, causing everything to be out of focus…

Except for him.

My head buzzes and there’s a weird hum in the air that seems to roll through my entire body. I stagger back, trying like hell to swim, but I can’t. I’m being swept away in the tide.

I peel my gaze away, certain it must be a mistake. This guy looks different. Older. Solid. A little edgier…dangerous even. Nothing like the lean, preppy guy in suits who continues to prowl the dark corners of my mind like a burglar.

I clutch my chest; my reality is so disorientated I can’t form cohesive thoughts. He’s saying something, I think it might be my name, but I can’t hear anything because the humming zigzagging through my head is getting worse. I try to walk away again, but my body doesn’t get the memo. I wobble instead and when I make the mistake of looking up—my worst fear is confirmed.

Through the kaleidoscope made of the pieces of my broken heart—I see him. And this time there’s no mistake about it.

Preston Holden is standing right in front of me.

And he’s the last thing I see before my body gives out, everything fades to black…and I crash.