ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER splashy event at Argos. As I sauntered through the filled-to-capacity converted warehouse, I could feel their eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

They stared—they always stared. And over the years it had changed from the lustful, eager gazes of men looking for a young, hot plaything to wide-eyed hope that they’d be the one to land in my bed tonight. Or me in theirs, rather. I never took anyone to my place.

“Yo, Lucas,” the DJ called out, and he gave me a wink as he turned up my favorite song to throbbing, and as the lights pulsed around the darkened club, I made my way to the center of the dance floor and closed my eyes, losing myself to the rhythm. Here I didn’t have to think about anything, not anyone’s opinions of me, not the workload I had piling up, and not the fact that I was completely and utterly alone in the world.

Cue the sentimental fucking violins.

I wasn’t always in such a mood, but this particular time of the year had given me a one-two punch in the past, and though I’d tried, I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that some other bad surprise waited around the corner. Everything always came in threes, after all, so why should Fuck with Lucas Month be any different?

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t put up a protest when a freckled hand snaked around my waist, pulling me back against an athletic body.

“Mmm, I’ve been thinking about you in my bed all week,” came the voice from behind.

But as soon as the words hit my ears, my eyes flew open. This wasn’t someone looking for a one-nighter. This was a been there, fucked that. And that went against every self-imposed rule I had.

“That’s nice, but no thanks,” I said, not bothering to turn around. The guy’s hand traveled lower, and I grabbed his wrist to pry him away, letting it drop back down to his side—and away from my dick.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he crooned in my ear, coming in close. “We had a good time the other night.”

Without seeing who was behind me—and that probably wouldn’t help either—all the men just melted together in a blur of limbs and cocks and cum. “Did we? Can’t seem to remember.”

His nose nuzzled behind my ear. “Sure you don’t. You had me against my front door. On the dining room table. Again in the shower.”

“Exactly. Had you,” I said, turning around so fast he stumbled forward, and I put my hand out to stop him from getting all up on me again. Putting a face with the voice didn’t help to jog my memory much, though if I’d had him in all the places he’d mentioned, he probably had a bigger-than-average dick. That I might remember. “Which means I’m not interested in having you again. So you can run along now.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not interested in repeats.”

The shock on the redhead’s face quickly turned to embarrassment, as his skin heated to match his fiery hair. “Fuck you.”

“No, I fucked you. And you’re welcome.” Glancing over to the corner where a six-foot-six, 270-pound wall of muscle stood keeping an eye on the crowd, I lifted an eyebrow, and he nodded and began to make his way over to us.

“You’re seriously gonna pretend like you don’t remember?” Red shook his head in disbelief. “Unfuckingbelievable. You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve, you know that?”

As the head of security cast a shadow over us, I nodded at the slighter man in front of me. Gabe something? Gary? Oh, who gave a fuck. The guy was two seconds away from starting a scene, and I didn’t have the energy for that tonight. “Paul, could you?”

Paul grabbed hold of Red’s arm and began to haul him off the dance floor like he was nothing more than a rag doll, and, as predicted, the guy thrashed about, struggling to break free.

“What makes you so goddamn high and mighty, Lucas?” Red shouted, and even over the booming bass his voice could be heard, causing the dozens standing between us to stop dancing and turn in my direction, their eyes wide.

“Poppers seem to work well most nights,” I said with a lazy shrug.

An angry sneer crossed his face. “One day some guy is gonna get the best of you, asshole, and when that happens, you’ll wish you were dead.”

“That,” I said, stepping in close to the man still struggling to get loose from Paul’s hold, “will never fucking happen.” Then I glanced at the revelers standing around me, meeting their eyes one by one. “Go on. Show’s over.”

“The fuck it is,” Red shouted, but Paul had him through the crowd and out the exit before he could put up much more of a protest. But even after he was gone, everyone’s gazes stayed on me, which only made me scowl.

“I said the show’s over.” Jesus, it was too early in the night for this. I needed another drink, and I needed it now.

The bar was two deep when I walked over, but that never mattered. I caught Shaw’s eye behind the bar, and when he nodded, a couple of regulars glanced at me over their shoulders and quickly moved out of the way.

“Tequila too,” I said when he pushed my usual draft beer my way.

Shaw lifted an eyebrow but quickly poured a couple of Patron Silvers. “Someone’s in a mood tonight.”

I didn’t respond as I threw the shots back in quick succession before chasing them with my beer. I chugged the ice-cold brew down in several long gulps and then handed Shaw the empty glass.

“Feeling guilty? I saw the way you had Gavin dragged outta here,” he said, mixing up a round of apple martinis for the pair next to me.

Ahh, Gavin. Close enough. And did I feel guilty? Fuck no. If a guy didn’t know the meaning of the words “casual fucking” by now, then that was their own damn fault.

South Haven was a tourist island, and Club Row in particular had a reputation as the spot to hit for singles’—and not-so-singles’—pleasure, many staying at one of the resorts along the beaches or venturing in from Savannah off the mainland. And that meant there was always a steady supply of new faces and bodies for my consumption, so the thought of double-dipping was not only unnecessary, but cruel and unusual punishment.

“No, I don’t,” I said. “And I don’t need a guilt trip from you either, Shaw, so fuck off.”

“Maybe you could try getting laid before coming out next time. Work off some of this aggression.”

As Shaw winked at me, I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the advice, but what are you doing behind the bar? Cock trouble at work?”

“I don’t fuck my staff, Sully boy.” He scooped ice into a new glass, hit a button on the soda gun, and filled it to the top before handing it to me. “Kev’s got the flu, so I said I’d hold things down tonight. Supposed to be busier than usual.”

“Aren’t you a saint.” I sniffed the drink that looked way too clear for my tastes. “The fuck is this? Water?”

“Thought your liver could use a break.”

Shooting him a glare, I said, “I’ll pass. And tell your brother you make a shitty replacement. Stick to tattoo guns.”

The side of Shaw’s mouth lifted into a half-grin. “I’ll do that. Now, you care to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to guess?”

“Well, look who sounds like a bartender,” I said, before getting jolted from behind. As I turned to see the clumsy offender, a hot stare greeted me, letting me know his casual bump hadn’t been an accident at all. As the built blond walked by, his eyes dropped down my body, but when my cock barely stirred at his brazen appraisal, I turned back to face Shaw. “Same as any other night.”

He snorted. “Running out of options already? Time for a move?”

“Hardly.”

Something in my tone must’ve set off an alarm, because Shaw stopped what he was doing and narrowed his eyes slightly. With every inch of his skin tattooed, from his wrists to his neck, and with the jagged scar in his left eyebrow, Shaw was an intimidating figure even when he wasn’t gazing intensely at you, trying to figure out your secrets. And he always did figure them out eventually, which was the scariest thing about the motherfucker. But that was also the reason he was one of my best friends—the guy locked that shit up, which was why I knew the second he saw the scars he’d been searching for, they’d be left untouched, zipped back up and left where they were like he’d never been there.

“Ah,” was all he said once he’d finished his appraisal, and then he went back to work, and it was that small nod of acknowledgment at my pain that made it ease for the briefest of moments, a small flame lighting up the darkness. Then it flickered and faded, the emptiness slowly reemerging and the need for a bigger distraction intensifying.

“Time to hunt,” Shaw said, noticing the change as quickly as it happened, and a sad smile played on his lips. “You seen Bash?”

“Not yet.”

Shaw checked his watch and cursed. “Send him my way if you do. He’s supposed to be the guest emcee tonight.”

“Check,” I said, pulling a couple of bills from my wallet and tossing them into the tip jar. He was right. It was hunting time, and my fingers itched with the need to feel the hard plane of a body beneath them, pushing them inside a tight, willing ass.

“You didn’t finish your water,” Shaw called out after me, sarcasm dripping from his words, and in response, I held up a choice middle finger and headed back to the dance floor, this time toward the far corner near the back room where the more…sinful deeds took place. And it was there that I laid eyes on the man I knew would be occupying my next few hours.

Tall. Brunette. Slightly built in the way most of the barely-legals were. He reminded me of someone I used to know.

And that, for tonight, was good enough for me.