Five past nine came soon enough for Bryan not to have to think too much about what the hell he’d instigated. He had better things to do than teach a woman how to listen to her own instincts. But here he stood, leaning against his car, in front of her building while he stared at his watch.

He didn’t expect her to be early. Didn’t even anticipate she’d be on time. She’d need to retaliate, at least a little, before she gave in and realized she wasn’t going to find the right guy without assistance.

She needed his help, maybe even wanted it. The confusing part was why he gave a shit. He supposed he didn’t like anyone leaving the Vault unsatisfied. The low enjoyment rating came as a personal blow as much as a professional one. And he still needed her assistance for the demonstration.

So, technically, this was business.

He’d scratch her back. She’d scratch his.

She was also a distraction. The only thing capable of keeping his mind off Tampa, family, and throat-clogging hate. Annoying Ella made the other shit in his life disappear. At least temporarily. The time alone, backed up against his car, made all the thoughts flood to the forefront.

He stared at the yellow glow from the window he guessed was hers and waited for the lights to fade.

They didn’t.

Not after one minute. Not even after five.

His cell vibrated in his back pocket, the intrusion a mental and physical pain in his ass, but a better source of entertainment than a pane of glass. He pulled out the device, scowled at Leo’s name, and pressed connect. “Yeah?”

“Shay thinks you’re high on the latest designer drug because of your unnaturally good mood this afternoon. What gives?”

Bryan thought back on the last six hours and refused to acknowledge what might have made a big enough change in his attitude for someone to notice. There was only one thing. More specifically, one person. “I’ve been testing a new powder on the market,” he drawled. “I thought about selling it on the sly to the younger ravers.”

There was more than a beat of silence. “You’re joking, right?”

“What do you want, Leo? I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Your mother. So, if you don’t mind, it’s time to lube up.”

“Fucking Shay,” Leo muttered. “I don’t know why she thought you were acting oddly cheery lately. You’re still the same asshole you’ve always been.”

Bryan grinned. This was how they rolled. Their friendship grew with the help of cheap shots and quick comebacks. “Is that the only reason for the call?”

“No. I wanted to know what steps you’ve taken to fix the issue in the Vault.”

“I’m working on it.” He kept staring at Ella’s window and wondered about the seductive possibilities of what she might be wearing.

“How? I need details. Cassie and T.J. want an update.”

“I told you Ella would do the demonstration, and she will.” He swallowed, clearing the dryness from his throat. For once, confidence didn’t coat his tone. His words fell flat under uncertainty. “I’ll confirm the deal tonight.”

“Confirm the deal? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Leo chuckled. “She’s the reason for the drug high, isn’t she? Does the big, bad Brute have a crush?”

Bryan scowled, wishing the look could make its way through to Leo’s phone. “This big, bad Brute is going to crush your face if you don’t leave me alone to fix this mess.”

The chuckle turned into unrestrained laughter. “I nailed it, didn’t I? You like this woman.”

“Of course,” Bryan grated. “You nailed it just as hard as I’ll nail Shay the next time you work a late shift.”

The delirious mirth increased. “Are you on a date?”

“Goodbye, Leo.”

“It is a date.”

Bryan disconnected the call and pocketed the cell. Ten seconds passed before the first text message vibrated from his back pocket. Then another and another.

Fucking Leo.

The squeak of the apartment building door disturbed the night air, and he lifted his gaze to find Ella’s familiar silhouette exiting the lobby. The outside lights bore down on her, giving him an unforgiving view of the skin-tight red dress that ensured no man would need the use of his imagination tonight.

Her blonde hair danced over her shoulders, along with a white scarf trailing into the deep-V of her cleavage revealing a mass of creamy skin, while her cherry-stained lips matched her seductive stiletto heels. But it was her eyes that slayed him, and the nervous sweep of her lashes, exposing the slightest need for validation as she approached.

“You’re late,” he muttered.

“You’re lucky I’m here at all.”

Her stride didn’t falter as he pushed from the car and opened the passenger door. “If you didn’t show, I would’ve figured out a way into your building and dragged you out myself.”

“I know. That’s the only reason I came.”

“Sure it is.” He didn’t believe her for a second. Not when she’d gone to so much effort to look drop-dead gorgeous. Every inch of her made his cock fill with interest. Especially those heels.

If he were the one taking this woman home tonight, he’d make sure those shoes remained firmly in place while he sank between those thighs. She’d be splayed across his bed, completely naked, all bar those ruby, fuck-me stilettos.

And hadn’t that image just given his dick the green-light to adolescence.

“Nice heels,” he grunted.

“Thanks. You look good, too.” Her sarcasm was flamboyant, letting him know his compliment about her shoes was far from worthy. “I like the suit. I bet it’s a carbon copy of every other one you’ve worn for the last five years.”

He beat back a grin. “You can’t ditch a classic.”

She stopped in front of him, placing her hand-held clutch to her hip. “No. But it wouldn’t hurt to change things up a bit. You’re starting to look like a control freak with the constant stiff-suit ensemble.”

Stiff suit? Control freak?

She had no idea.

He stepped toward her, hovering close, dragging her sweet scent of lust and beauty deep into his lungs. “You ain’t seen nothin’, sweetheart. Imagine how wet those panties would get if you had a full dose of my control.”

She chuckled, batting away his arrogance with a sly tilt of her lips. “Well, we better not test that theory.” She pushed past him, pausing to whisper, “Because I’m not wearing any panties.”

He snapped his mouth shut and took the sucker punch to his balls head on. She was messing with him. He knew it. She knew it.

It didn’t stop his gaze from landing on her ass in search of a panty line, though. A non-existent panty line.

Get a fucking grip.

He wasn’t going there. Not tonight.

“Get in.” He made his way around the car and yanked open his door.

This excursion was about teaching her how to read men. To determine the wheat from the chaff. The sexually experienced from the ignorant.

She needed to trust him, not only to get her laid, but to change her mind about the demonstration night. Time was running out, along with his patience, and there was no way he could miss next Thursday’s session in the Vault. He needed to be between those sordid walls. He craved the grounding. The connection.

And, if he was being honest, he wanted to see if the image of Ella, naked and in front of a crowd, was as perfect in real life as it was in his mind.

If he fucked her now, his limp-dick insurance policy would steal all that away from him. The class wouldn’t run with the enthusiasm it deserved. His interest in her would plummet, if not vanish entirely. There’d be no buzz. No thrill.

He’d make a fool of them both.

This constant state of arousal around her would work much more favorably. His intuition would be flawless with his current level of interest. All he had to do was keep riding this wave of erection-inducing torture until next week. Then he’d reward himself with one hot and heavy fuck and be done with her.

His insurance policy would make sure of it.

He slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him. “You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” She ran a hand down her thigh, straightening non-existent wrinkles in her dress. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“To a bar not far from here.” He started the ignition and pulled onto the street. “I know the guy who owns the place.”

“Will there be music and dancing?”

He could see her cleavage from the corner of his eye. The lush curves were enough to drive him to distraction. “You don’t want music. Dance floors are for guys looking for an easy lay. What you need is someone willing to hold a conversation. If they don’t bother learning who you are, they won’t bother learning what you want.”

“But I like dancing.”

And his dick loved the thought of seeing those hips sway. “Not tonight, you don’t.”

She sighed and rested her head against the passenger window. “If you say so.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I say so.”

The drive was quiet, the soft hum of her voice underlining every song on his playlist. This time he itched to fill the void. He had questions. He had suggestions. But every time he thought of something to say, he fell into a pathetic hole where he analyzed the necessity of every word.

He questioned himself.

Over her.

What the hell?

“So…” He pushed through the analytical crap like a motherfucker and focused instead on his building jealousy. “The guy from this afternoon, are you seeing him?”

Her head snapped around. “What guy? Callum? No.” The questions shot at him. “He’s a regular at the cafe. This afternoon was the first time he’s spoken anything other than a drink order to me.”

“He asked you out, right?” He hadn’t needed to hear the words to read the man’s shit-scared demeanor. “What did you say?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m only trying to get a feel for how you vet potential lovers.”

She focused out her window and spoke softly. “I politely declined.”

“Good.” The guy wasn’t her type. Anyone with a spine as languid as a snake would be an unworthy match for her. She craved strength and dominance. Not a hesitant guy who rocked from foot to foot while talking to his crush.

“For now,” she added. “I think I might need to reassess after tonight.”

“Why?” He maneuvered through the light traffic, taking in side-glances of her as he went. “What’s going to happen tonight?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think I need to stop focusing all my attention on a sexual connection. It’s time to lean more toward a mental bond.”

“That sounds dreamy,” he drawled. “Let me know how it feels when your hymen grows back.”

She gave a breathy snicker. “You’re such a dick. Just because you enjoy solitude doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”

“One doesn’t have to be the loneliest number. To me, it’s the most reliable.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” She shot a glance over her shoulder, giving a quick inspection of the car’s interior.

He held his breath and clenched the steering wheel when her eyes widened. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t he catch a break?

“You kept the books?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep them to read or—”

“I’m not. I planned on throwing them in the nearest dumpster, but turns out those books are fucking expensive. I read the price sticker on the back of one and couldn’t bring myself to trash them. So, I’m waiting for a spare afternoon to drop them at an oncology ward. Or somewhere else they might be of use.”

She didn’t reply for long seconds that felt like unending months. In that head of hers, he figured she was creating a punishing reply.

“You had no intention of reading them, but you took them anyway?”

He ground his teeth.

“Thank you, Bryan.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She was back to using his name.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered and wanted to back it up with, “No, really, don’t fucking mention it. Ever.”

“You can be a sweet guy, you know that?”

“Yeah. The perfect gentleman,” he mocked. “Especially when I have my hands around your throat and your tight cunt around my finger.”

She gave a breathy chuckle. “Are you trying to shock me with dirty talk?” She clucked her tongue. “Amateur.”

He was. Around her, at least.

“It’s hardly dirty talk.” He turned onto their street, thankful for the upcoming escape from the confined space. “I should give you a lesson on that, too.” No. No, he couldn’t. What the hell was he thinking?

She sighed and remained quiet.

Crisis averted.

Thank fuck.

“We’re almost there.” The looming threat of rain had made for less foot-traffic. Not many people were around. Then again, it was nine on a Tuesday night. Not really the hour for raving. “This is the place.”

He took in the two-story building as he turned into the parking lot entrance. The front facade had received a facelift since he’d last been here. The dark brick was now matched with black guttering, giving a Gothic feel, while the warm yellow lights brightened up the interior.

“You like it here?” She fumbled with the ends of her scarf.

“Yeah. It’s a low-key version of Shot of Sin.”

“How so?”

“There’s booze, soft music, and rooms for hire upstairs.” He parked at the back of the lot and cut the engine.

“Rooms for…?”

“Privacy. Playing. Fucking. You name it.” He turned to her, taking in the slight hitch to her chin and her sharp inhale. The mental image had turned her on, which meant his dick wanted in on the action. “Are you ready?”

She held up her clutch and nodded. “All set.”

His palms began to sweat as he took in all the visible assets other men would soon be ogling. “Lose the scarf.”

Her mouth gaped. “Why?”

Because I want to see more of you. “It doesn’t match the dress.” And every time you touch it I think about tying you to my bed.

Her hand shot to her throat. “I need to wear it.”

“Because?”

Her lips worked around silent words before she sighed. “Because I have marks on my neck that I couldn’t cover with make-up.”

He scowled. “A rash?”

“No.” Her focus shot to his. “I’m talking about your fingermarks all over my skin.”

“I hurt you?” Snapshots of remembrance peppered his vision—his hands around soft flesh, her moans, the involuntary spasms of her pussy.

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Don’t think about it. Don’t picture it. Just forget the whole scarf thing and get the fuck out of this suffocating space.

“Not enough,” she murmured.

Jesus. It was time to bail.

“Good.” He shoved open his car door and escaped the confines of the car.

She followed and met his gaze over the roof. “Do you understand why I have to wear it now?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t need a reminder staring him in the face all night long, either. “It looks fine.”

He didn’t watch her as he slammed his door. He didn’t need to confirm an eye roll accompanied her scoff; he was already sure of it.

“You realize fine is far from a compliment.” She shut her door and rounded the hood. “Just for future reference, I mean.”

It wasn’t like he lacked the ability to compliment her.

He could praise the ever-loving fuck out of her if he wanted. He could tell her how the mere peripheral vision of her gave his dick an aneurism. He could point out how perfect those breasts were—plump and full. Or count on his fingers the amount of times he’d wanted to bend her over different objects and fuck the frustration from his system.

Didn’t mean those words would ever pass his lips, though.

“Duly noted.”

He started for the front of the building, the gravel of the parking lot rolling under his soles. She wobbled with her first step, her thin heels losing traction.

“You okay?” The instinct to reach out and secure an arm around her waist was a mistake. Yet another idiotic move when it came to this woman.

“You don’t need to hold onto me.” She inched forward. “I can manage.”

He didn’t doubt it. But now he had the feel of her embedded into his side, and he wasn’t willing to let go. He could smell her hair, the floral scent more of an aphrodisiac than a gut full of oysters. “I insist.”

He held her gaze, catching every flicker in her expression as he tightened his hold. She swallowed. Straightened. Lifted her chin. Those lashes even beat with timid lethargy.

“Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of trying to pick up another man if I walk in with your hands on me?”

He didn’t care. “Doesn’t falling face first into the gravel and skinning your knees defeat the purpose of that sexy dress?”

She blinked. Balked. Gaped.

He had no clue why.

“Sexy dress?” One perfectly shaped brow arched.

He huffed and ignored the grin spreading those red lips. “Come on.” He led her forward, her waist burning a hole through his palm, until he dropped his grip at the start of the sidewalk. “Have you got it from here?”

“I always had it, Brute.” She strutted those toned legs in front of him, making her way to the entrance before he snapped out of his stare and quickly caught up.

“Where do you want to sit?” She glanced around the room, eyeing the booths along the back wall, then the cushion-lined sofas near the front windows, her attention finally coming to rest at the stools lining the bar. “Should we stay close to the booze?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” A fucking brilliant plan.

She continued forward while he hung back, waiting in case those gravity-defying heels slipped out from beneath her as she slid onto the closest stool.

“So, tell me your type.” He positioned himself beside her and swung around to face the room. It took less than five seconds to deem every guy here as an unworthy conquest. “What are you looking for?”

“Well…” She followed, placing her back to the bar. “Sexually speaking, I want someone confident and—”

“I know what you need sexually.” The reminder was a mental stroke along his dick. “What are you after outside the bedroom? I’m talkin’ looks, income, race, religion.”

“None of that matters to me.”

“Looks don’t matter?” He raised a fuck-off brow. “Looks always matter.”

She shrugged and jutted her chin to the left. “The guy in the back is attractive.”

“The one with the Van Dyke beard?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind a bit of facial scruff.”

His hand itched with the need to palm his jaw. He’d bet she’d prefer a full beard when it was grazing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. “How about his wedding ring? Does that bother you?”

Her nose wrinkled, her gaze snapping to his. “How did you even notice that?”

“It’s not what you notice, it’s what you need to look for. Wedding bands or a tan line on the appropriate finger are a good place to start.”

She nodded and sat up straight, ever the eager student. “What else?”

He became fascinated by the way her attention strayed around the room, scoping potential lovers. “The guy you’re looking for will be paying you attention. Watching you. Trying to work you out before you even notice him.”

Just like I am.

She continued with her search, her shoulders drooping moments later. “Well, I guess I’m out of luck.” She turned to face him. “Nobody in here is looking at me.”

He wasn’t going to prove her wrong. Pointing out all the men who’d already mentally stripped that dress from her body was a conversation for later. When he’d had enough time to determine who would be the right fit for her. “It’s early. Don’t give up yet.”

She nodded, the defeat still a slight groove between her brows. He itched to smother the expression. Wipe it away. With his hands, his mouth, his dick.

Goddammit.

“What do you want to drink?” He yanked his gaze away and raised a hand to call the bartender.

“Tequila sunrise, please.”

He placed the order and focused on the drink preparation to ensure he didn’t drag her ass out of here for his own fulfillment. He’d already started contemplating the possibility of a different demo assistant. Someone who could take Ella’s place so he could sate the rabid hunger tonight and let his insurance policy kick in before this got out of hand.

He didn’t care about the female Vault members boycotting the class. Or how Leo and T.J. would want to kill him. All the reasons from needing her assistance disappeared under the chokehold of lust.

His level of investment in this woman was too fucking high. He was beginning to enjoy being around her. The rollercoaster rise and fall of her smile kept stealing his attention. And that dress…

Shit. This wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look like you’re sulking. If you want to go home…”

Take the offer. Get out of here. “We’re not leaving.”

“Then cheer up, buttercup. You’re scaring away any potentials.” She waggled her brows and the sultry curve of her lips pummeled another meaty fist into his crotch.

“Here you go.” The bartender slid over their drinks.

“Thanks.” He snatched at his beer and enjoyed the liquid solace gliding down his throat. He needed to take the edge off. To snuff the burn.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve done, Brute?” Ella nibbled on the straw sticking from her drink, her head cocked as those eyes bore through him. “I bet you’ve got a lot of stories to tell.”

He shrugged. “Nothing comes to mind.”

“You own a sex club and nothing comes to mind?”

He took another long pull of beer. Conversation became difficult—the grasp for coherence almost impossible when her lips were a tempting breath away. “Sex isn’t crazy. It’s natural. People have been screwing since the dawn of time. What I find hard to justify are those who skydive or participate in adrenaline-fueled sports.” He pointed a finger at her. “Or those who get married. Now, if you ask me, making a commitment like that is fucking insane.”

She stared at the bar, a far-off gleam in her eyes as she smiled. “My marriage was far from conventional.”

“Why is that?”

Her lips parted and silent words hovered out of reach until she sighed. “Hold on a sec.” She leaned forward and focused on the bartender. “Excuse me. Can I get a shot of tequila, please?”

“Shots?”

Her fingers tapped against the bar, her leg jolted.

“Have I missed something?” he asked.

She gave a bark of laughter and grasped the shot glass sliding toward her. She downed the contents in one winced gulp and kept her focus on the bartender. “You might want to fill that up again, please. I think I’m going to need it.”

“What’s going on?” He didn’t like the change in her demeanor. He also didn’t like the rapid approach of lowered inhibitions. He was already battling enough for them both.

She licked her lower lip, sweeping the remnants of alcohol away. “There was no commitment when I married.”

“You had an open relationship?” Her husband must have been one laidback motherfucker. To share a woman as beautiful as Ella was a risk. You’d never know when another guy would throw club etiquette to the wind and steal her right out from beneath you.

“It’s a long story.”

“Then hurry up and get on with it.”

She eyed him, up and down.

Shit. He pulled back, unsure when he’d inched close enough to hear the hitch in her breath.

“Go on.” He turned to the bar, palmed his beer, and took a gulp. “We’ve got all night.” At the very least, until he drowned his dick in liquor.

She fiddled with the refilled shot glass, running her finger around the rim. “I met Lucas on one of those European bus holidays. I was doing the touristy thing with Kim, and he was traveling alone. We got to talking and eventually hooked up. It wasn’t anything romantic. Just sex.” Her shoulders slumped with a deep exhale. “Amazing sex.”

“I get the picture.”

“No, you don’t.” She spoke to the glazed wood of the bar. “I’d never been with anyone like him before. He taught me things. He knew my body better than I did, which was strange because we rarely spoke. He kept to himself a lot and we only caught up at night.”

Bryan gripped his beer, his focus on the liquid. For a fleeting second, his chest constricted with jealousy, but he doused that fucker with the remainder of his drink and quickly ordered another with the raise of a finger.

“When the tour ended, we went our separate ways and neither one of us looked back. I didn’t ask for his number, and he showed no interest in keeping in contact. At least, not until he turned up on my doorstep a few months later.”

Made sense. The guy must’ve realized his mistake. Ella was a different sort of woman. Sexually confident and inquisitive. A catch. Anyone who let her walk deserved to wallow in regret.

“Couldn’t live without you, huh?” He welcomed his new beer with a deep pull, determined to douse the discomfort under his sternum.

“Actually …” Her voice turned somber. “He told me he wouldn’t be living at all in the near future. He found out about the cancer a few weeks after he returned from Europe.”

Bryan dropped his glass to the bar and turned to her.

“It wasn’t the happiest of reunions.” She shrugged. “But I’m glad he found me.”

“That’s when you got married?”

“Pretty much. He didn’t want to die alone, and I didn’t want that for him either. He deserved to have someone by his side.”

“What about his family or friends? Couldn’t they have looked after him? You said the two of you barely spoke.”

“Apart from work colleagues, Lucas didn’t have anyone to rely on. His mother had health problems of her own back in Chicago. He didn’t even tell her about the cancer. She thought he was going on another vacation. Instead, he came to find me.”

“Jesus.” He blindly swiped for his beer and knocked back another gulp. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a stranger.” The guy seemed like a dick. A selfish, emotionless asshole.

“It was. But I was financially compensated. Our marriage became the equivalent of an employment contract. I quit my waitressing job to concentrate on his health, and when he passed, I became the sole beneficiary of everything he left behind.”

She dipped her finger into the tequila, then sucked the moisture away. If their conversation hadn’t been about cancer, chemo, and all things melancholy, he would’ve blown his load then and there.

“His money allowed me to buy this apartment and my cafe. It gave me the opportunity to help my sister who had mounting educational debts, and my mom who’d struggled since my father left. Not that they wanted anything to do with the inheritance. They disagreed with what I did.”

“Because you were financially compensated?”

“No.” She nibbled her bottom lip and shook her head. “Because at that point, Lucas and I weren’t emotionally connected, and they knew it wouldn’t end that way. They could see me falling for him, without those feelings being reciprocated.”

His chest constricted, the building jealousy hitting harder the further they sank into this conversation. “And you put your life on hold anyway.”

“And I’d do it again. There’s no way I could’ve let him die alone. How could I live with myself if I let him walk away? I knew what I was getting myself into. I made the decision on my own.” She shrugged. “In the end, they were right. I started hoping for more.”

“More what? Time?”

“I don’t know.” She cringed. “Everything was complicated, especially with my extreme naivety. I’ve grown up a lot since then.”

“Shit.” He rested an elbow on the bar and looked at her. Really looked at her. “Didn’t knowing the end game make it easier to close yourself off emotionally? At least to some extent?”

“How do you close yourself off emotionally, Bryan?” She met his stare. “How do you stop caring? God knows I couldn’t figure out how.”

She dipped her finger back into the tequila and swirled the contents with her fingertip. “Our days were spent between doctors’ appointments and living out a fast-tracked bucket list. We also rekindled the physical relationship when he was able. It became hard building walls against something that monumental.” She fell silent, stealing his fascination with each passing minute. “I ended up loving him… In my own little way.”

He kept staring at her, kept blinking, kept breathing. He couldn’t think past the need to do something, anything, to wipe the pained look off her face.

“Sorry.” She winced. “I really won the award for Most Morbid Change in Conversation, didn’t I?”

He swiped the shot glass out from beneath her hand and downed the contents in one regrettable swallow. “Yep. And now you’re cut off.” He cleared his throat to dissolve the burn. “You’re a depressing drunk.”

Her eyes widened, then a chuckle broke free. “Not usually.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I blame the company I keep.”

She could blame him all she liked, as long as the smile continued to stay plastered on those dark lips.

“Yeah, well, you need to shape up before your drinking privileges are returned.”

“That’s rich, coming from Mr. Moody.”

“Moody? I’m pretty sure I stick to the one mood ninety percent of the time.”

She quirked her lips as she pondered his response. “I guess you’re right.”

And just like that, her eyes lost the darkened shade of mourning and brightened to a mesmerizing blue.

“Okay.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get this conversation back on track. We need to focus on getting me laid.”

He palmed his beer as the added layer of history tugged at something other than his lust. The additional reminder of why they were here didn’t fill him with warm and fuzzies, either. He didn’t want to send her home with someone else. He didn’t want to send her back to her apartment at all. “Maybe tonight’s not the night for this.”

“Of course it is.” She grabbed his arm, those fingers searing skin and nerves. “Seriously, I need to get lucky. I’ll take whatever help I can get.”

She batted her lashes, and his dick shoved hard against his zipper, expecting a high-five.

“I’m eager for your expertise.” She swiveled, turning her back to the bar. “What about that guy?”

For the next hour, he went through the pros and cons of every male in the building. The pros were few and far between. For good reason. He couldn’t find anyone to entrust with her pleasure.

A third of them wore wedding bands. Others leered with no manners or respect. Another chunk of potentials were wiped from the board because they simply didn’t look good enough.

He didn’t know what it would take to earn his respect, but nobody here had even a glimpse of it, which was becoming harder to explain to Ella, who seemed to have slid on intoxication goggles and considered every man who walked through the door a potential candidate.

He’d had to point out the gay guy who only had eyes for his friend’s ass.

He’d had to discuss the downfall of being with someone who spent ten minutes staring at the drink board. Because, seriously, if it took you more than two minutes to figure out your own needs, there was no point wasting a lifetime trying to determine Ella’s.

The man she currently ogled wore a plaid shirt, dirty faded jeans, and muddy cowboy boots. Which, realistically, wasn’t a bad thing. He looked like he had a good work ethic. But… “If you’re still into fucking cattle, go for it.”

She snorted, her happiness springing through him like a gunshot. “That’s an unfair assumption.”

He didn’t give a shit.

“What about him?” She tilted her chin toward the man at the far end of the bar.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” The guy had stuck-up-suit written all over him.

“What’s wrong with him?” she slurred through bubbles of laughter, and he immediately regretted reinstating her drinking privileges. “He’s cute. He also has good fashion sense. Hell, I could ask him to strip and simply touch him for hours.” She slapped her hands together in prayer. “Please, Brute, let me touch his nakedness. I can’t remember the last time I got to put my hands on a guy’s body.”

His nostrils flared. “A few nights ago doesn’t ring a bell?” Why didn’t she just punch him in the dick? The injury would’ve hurt less than the insult.

She balked. “I barely got to touch you. Hell, girlfriend—” she waggled her head at him, “—if I had the chance to sink my nails into you, you’d know it.”

“Girlfriend?” He pushed from his stool. “You’re too drunk for this. Either sober up or I’ll have to take you home.”

She pouted. “Okay, daddy.”

Fuck. Me.

She snorted again. “I’m joking. Stop glaring at me like that. Christ, you throw in a daddy line and everyone gets offended.”

Yeah, he was fucking offended, because any other reaction while imagining spanking her over his knee wasn’t goddamn appropriate. If only his cock would get the memo.

“I’ll be back in a sec. Behave while I’m gone.”

He needed a bathroom break.

An Ella break.

She wasn’t the only one who needed to sober up. The alcohol heating his veins spewed some pretty crazy shit into his mind.

Jesus Christ, he could fucking taste her with every swallow.

Good news was, he hadn’t thought of his family. Not until now, when his lust dissipated with each step.

He hadn’t contemplated why his dying mother couldn’t gather a glimmer of affection to call her only child to say goodbye. He hadn’t pondered why his father hadn’t picked up the phone—now or in the past months. He didn’t think about how the two people who were supposed to love him the most hadn’t given a fuck about him at all, because his concentration kept focusing back on Ella with pinpoint precision.

He shoved into the bathroom, stood in front of the basin, and stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror.

Something wasn’t right.

Lust had never felt like this before. It had never started in his chest and worked its way down.

At the bar, he’d tried to convince himself it was the alcohol, or the sob story about her husband that pulled at his usually non-existent heartstrings. This was supposed to be about Ella finding someone to fuck. It was about getting her to participate in the demonstration. It was about business. But in here, facing himself, it became harder to live the lie.

He liked her. He fucking liked her. “Damn it.”

He ran his hands through his hair, entwined his fingers at the back of his head, and placed tight pressure on his skull.

This was Tera’s fault. In one phone call, she’d fucked with him, messing with his head in so many ways he couldn’t think straight. She’d reminded him of his childhood, and how he’d once believed in happily-ever-afters and all that naive, fairytale bullshit.

It had to stop.

He couldn’t do this to himself.

He couldn’t do it to Ella.

She had baggage. Issues.

The appeal didn’t make sense. Yet, it was there, building from a molehill into a mountain, right before his eyes, and there was only one way to make it stop.