“New in town?” the bartender asks, mixing my gin and tonic, his blue eyes bright in a web of wrinkles. He looks like a grizzly bear, a hulking bearded man that fills all the space behind the bar. I wonder how he manages to turn around and find the bottles.

“It shows, huh?” I accept my glass and sip at it.

“Nah, it’s just a good icebreaker.” He grins, and I huff a startled laugh. “What brings you here?”

“New job.” And a new start.

“And what do you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m a photographer.” My drink is good and I enjoy it. “Freelance.”

He frowns. I can see he wants to ask why I moved here if I’m freelance, but I turn on my stool to look at the people in the dimly lit bar, avoiding it.

“See anyone you’d like to take a picture of?” he eventually asks, and I am about to say no, until my gaze alights on one fine specimen of a man who has just entered.

He’s dressed like a biker, a helmet under one arm, leather pants, leather jacket and dirty-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. The planes of his face are smooth and symmetrical, his eyes pale and his mouth sensual. He struts into the bar like he owns the place and plants himself on a stool at the other end of the bar.

Oh boy.

A strand of pale hair falls in his face and he pushes it back impatiently before shrugging off his jacket, and holy crap Batman, the guy has arms like a bodybuilder, thick and muscular, covered in dark ink.

I’m positively drooling.

“That one,” I say, breathless. “I’d pay to take pictures of that one.”

In my mind I can see a whole calendar with him. Maybe with a Christmas theme, since the holiday is fast approaching. I could have him, naked, with a red bow.

Yeah.

“You have an eye for trouble, that’s for sure,” the bartender grumbles.

“Trouble? Why?”

“Because Kaden is trouble,” a woman chirps up, taking the stool next to mine. She throws her long dark hair over her shoulder and nods at the bartender. “The usual.”

“Double martini coming right up, sugar.”

A regular. “You know this Kaden?”

“Who doesn’t? He’s bad. A bad apple.”

“Why?”

The bartender slides her drink over and she curls her manicured hand around it, giving me a sideways look. “His ex-girlfriend filed charges against him for forcing deviant acts on her.”

“Deviant…? As in sexual acts?”

“The very same.” She gives her drink a tragic look and takes a long gulp from it. “Charges didn’t stick, though. I mean, she’d been his girlfriend. She left him for another guy and he’s been drinking and banging every chick who’s drunk enough ever since.”

“Did you?”

“Bang him?” She laughs, a raspy smoker’s laugh. “Never been drunk enough. He sure is a hot piece of ass, though, isn’t he?”

“I see.” I hide a wince. What’s this, the meat market?

“Marcela Presti.” She puts out her hand, and after a second’s hesitation, I take it and shake.

“Hailey Allen.”

“If you’re here for a good time, and believe me that’s what I’m here for, too, then move to the dance floor. Kaden won’t move from the bar until he’s well and truly hammered, and then only to grab a chick and take her along.”

“He takes them home?”

“His tastes run too dark, like I said. He needs privacy and space for the sort of stuff he likes, or so the rumors report.”

My mouth is dry. I take another sip from my gin and tonic. Dark, huh?

When I decided to move from Chicago to Kansas City, my only concern was to move as far away from Trent as possible without moving to the moon. Chicago isn’t on another continent, but I figured this was far enough.

Rebuilding my clientele will be a bitch, but I’ve saved some money, and I’ve just moved into my apartment here. I’m ready to move on. Ready to put that asshole behind me, forget Trent, forget his betrayal and the years I wasted on him. Loveless, sexless years, sitting on edge, wondering if it was just me, if I was doing something wrong, when he’d been banging my cousin all along.

I gulp down the rest of my drink and ask the bartender for another. I’ll need all the liquid courage I can get tonight, because tonight I’ll shed my skin and re-emerge renewed. I’ll live for the moment, dance and flirt, find a strong, dominant man to take over the trainwreck that is currently my life and drive me wild. Make me come like never before. Make me see stars until the past is gone.

Until the image of Trent and my cousin fucking on our bed is erased.

The second gin and tonic arrives and I drink some more. The image in my memory blurs, the hard edges of reality soften.

“I think I’m starting to like your city,” I say, toasting Marcela and the bartender. “And I’ll try the dance floor. After I finish this.”

Marcela laughs, toasting me back. “That’s the spirit, girlfriend. Go find yourself a nice-looking man to fuck the worries out of your mind. Best remedy ever.”

She’s crude, but it’s also funny. I snicker and lick my lips. From across the length of the bar I catch movement, and I turn to see Kaden looking at me. His mouth is pulled up to the side in a smirk and holy shit, he’s damn handsome.

What if I let him fuck me, fuck the worries out of my head? The idea was to go out, do something different, forget about the past. Kaden sure sounds different, as different as I’ll ever get in bed.

He sounds just like the medicine the doctor prescribed.

Marcela leans closer and tsks. “Listen to my advice, Hailey Allen. Steer clear of Kaden Hansen. Unless you want your wrists shackled and your ass pounded until you can’t walk, your mouth and throat sore from deep-throating him and your pussy bruised from his cock, you’re better off finding someone else.”

I nod, pretending I agree—but her words make me feel hot, the thought of him doing these things to me is scorching, sending a fierce throb between my legs.

What if he’s exactly what I need tonight?

* * *

Wild thoughts. My mom always told me to avoid bad boys. Dad was a bad boy and the first thing he did when mom told him she was pregnant was to bolt and never look back. So it makes sense that she’d hammer this principle into me—and I did follow her advice for all these years. Only ever dated serious suits with steady jobs and goals in their lives, steady incomes and boring sex lives.

And where did it get me? With Trent fucking my—

Okay, enough. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t keep dredging up that awful, humiliating, life-shattering memory, that I’d focus on the here and now.

Where bodies are twisting to old rock songs and men’s eyes gleam as they check me out. Marcela has joined me on the small dance floor, her martini glass in hand, and she tosses her black hair as she swirls. She looks wild, and the men take notice.

My hair is a classic bob, chestnut with blond highlights, and I’m dressed in the only slinky dress I own. I’ve never let myself go before. Always dressed to the nines for the job, for Trent and his friends, trying to prove I’m as good as they are, that I’m good enough to be accepted.

Screw that.

I toss my hair too, the strands catching in my mouth, and laugh when Marcela wolf-whistles at me. My high heels click on the floor as I let go and allow my body to move to the rhythm.

And then I make the mistake of glancing toward the bar and find him still watching me. Kaden, his brows drawn together, his eyes blazing.

I forget for a moment where I am and what I’m doing, caught in his gaze.

“Hailey!” Marcela grabs my arm and swings me around, giggling. “Come dance with me.”

I let her pull me along to where a couple of guys are drinking beer and fake-dancing, eyes zeroing in on us as we approach.

For all intents and purposes I should find this creepy, the way lust drips from their expressions like dirty oil. The guys aren’t particularly young, handsome or even healthy-looking, but right now it all seems hilarious, and also nice. Nice to have men gaze at me openly, finding me sexy.

I dance and laugh, and when one of the men approaches me, I grin up at him and turn to dance with him.

“What’s your name?” he asks. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, his dark hair slicked back, a black tattoo winding up his forearm.

“Hailey.”

“You’re very pretty, Hailey.”

“Thank you.” I’m not sure he is the remedy I need. He looks… polished somehow, dressed to pick up girls. I want fun but not with some jerk. “This is a nice place.”

“Will you be coming more often?”

I smile, inch away from him. “Not sure. I’m here with my friend Marcela.” Whom I’ve just met, but hey. “Just having fun.”

“Come with me.” He grips my wrist, smiles.

Pushy. I pull my arm free. “No, thanks.”

I’m tipsy but not that far gone.

“Let me buy you a drink at least. We can talk.”

Reluctantly I glance back for Marcela but she’s dancing with a guy. They’re glued together, their bodies moving as one.

Ugh.

“Sure,” I hear myself say and this time when he grips my wrist, I let him.

Wanted a big strong guy to lead the way tonight, didn’t I? Well, come to think of it, this guy could fit the bill. He sure is arrogant. Hey, I’m not looking for my soulmate. I just need a night of wild sex to shake me out of my moodiness.

I settle on a stool and frown when he orders for me—a whiskey neat. I hate whiskey. I take it anyway, sip and let it flow down my throat, a trickle of heat.

The bar is tilting and I grip the edge. Whoa. Guess I’m drunker than I thought. That makes me snicker.

Get plastered, go home with a stranger, have monkey sex. All the firsts in one night. My bestie in Chicago always said I was an overachiever. If only she knew…

God, I’ll miss Maggie. Need to call her… Maybe even right now. Where’s my phone?

Shit, where’s my purse?

“Looking for this?” He dangles my purse from his fingers, laughs when I reach for it. “No panic, I’ve got it.”

Got what? I want to ask but it seems pointless when he sets the purse on the bar.

“What about him?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Why is he looking at you? Do you know him?”

I lean back to see who he’s pointing at—and sure enough it’s Kaden Hansen, the hot deviant bad boy I shouldn’t want. At all.

“Never met him in my life,” I reply truthfully.

“Good. I don’t want anyone getting between us.”

Whoa, what? “Hold your horses,” I slur, and slurring is a bad, bad sign. I put down my glass and realize it’s empty. When did that happen? “There’s no ‘us.’”

“Not yet.” His smile doesn’t look so nice anymore. “Let me take you home, you’re hammered. I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t want—” I shake my head, but that makes me dizzy, so I stop. “Don’t want you taking care of me. Give me my purse.”

“I’ll hold on to this for you. You’re so fucking wasted I guarantee you’ll lose it.”

“Give me my purse!” I make a grab for it, and he moves it just out of reach. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me off the stool. I weave on my feet, try to push at him but his fingers are like steel digging into my arm. “Let’s go.”

“Let go.” This can’t be happening. The noise is way too loud and nobody is even looking at us. “Let go of me, you asshole!”

Does he think I’ll just give in? Does this actually work for him normally? Jesus.

I pull my other hand back and slap him across the face. “Fuck off.”

He jerks, his eyes widening. Then he tugs on my wrist so violently, I lose my balance and crash against him. “Bitch,” he hisses. “Cocktease.”

I’m busy picking myself up. I’ve lost a shoe, and I kick the other one off too—to run, if needed, though fear is slowly seeping through the alcohol haze, making me shake.

What if I can’t push him away? What if nobody else notices?

But then his grip on my arm loosens, and I stumble back, slamming up against the bar and sliding down to the floor.

There’s a heavy thud, and another, then a grunt and cursing. A shadow has fallen over me. A guy is towering over the asshole who tried to force me to—what, go with him? Was he going to rape me later? Holy shit.

A tall, muscular guy, his arms covered in tattoos, his blond hair coming loose from the ponytail at his nape, framing his furious, handsome face.

Kaden.

I gape at him as he gets into the other guy’s face, snarling. “Haven’t you learned yet I won’t fucking let you pick up women in this bar and carry them home against their will? Want me to knock out all your teeth, is that it?”

“Fuck off, Kaden.” The guy brushes a hand under his nose, and his fingers come away coated with bright red blood. “This is none of your fucking business.”

Kaden glances at me and his gaze darkens. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He punches the guy in the gut, making him double over, then crouches down in front of me and puts a finger under my chin, tilting my face up.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

I say nothing, lost. His eyes are a pale green, like jade. Green and gold, cat-like eyes that seem to smile at me.

“She’s wasted,” the asshole says. “Aren’t you, Hailey?”

“Yeah, I saw you contribute to that.” Kaden’s eyes flash. He doesn’t look away from me. “Want me to drive you home? I promise you’ll be safe with me.”

The other guy snorts, then curses when blood trickles from his nose. “His girlfriend reported him to the police because he was so rough with her. Did you know that?”

Kaden’s face twists in a grimace.

“I know,” I whisper.

Kaden straightens. “That’s not how things went down,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.

I’m staring at him. At his full, wide mouth, the golden scruff on his jaw, the thick column of his neck, the wide shoulders.

“Hailey.” He rubs a big hand over his mouth. “You don’t have to come with me. I can call you a cab.”

“I’d rather go with you,” I hear myself say.

Oh boy.

“Seriously? You’d trust him but not me?” the other guy mutters angrily.

But Kaden hasn’t manhandled me, hasn’t made decisions for me, hasn’t assumed we’ll sleep together. He came to my rescue.

Also, I want him. What can I say? I’m horny. And drunk.

So I stretch out my hand, and he takes it. He pulls me to my feet and wraps an arm around my waist when I wobble.

“Easy there,” he says, and his voice, like his touch, is firm but gentle. “Ready to go?”

As much as I’ll ever be, after this disastrous end to the night. I just hope I haven’t just made the mother of all bad decisions…