This was unbelievable. I waited at the table while Mr. Sex on a Stick bought a vodka drink for me. What was I doing? I could handle flirting. I was used to it. As a Warrior Goddess, I had more numbers crammed in my hand as I walked through the tunnel than a stripper had one-dollar bills. So why was I suddenly letting this guy with piercing gray eyes trap me with a typical bar pick up line?

He had no idea I was standing there when he almost knocked me to the floor. I was impressed how quickly he reached for me. With one arm, he had me on my toes. I was more enamored with his wall of a chest. Holy hell.

I wasn’t that kind of girl. I wasn’t that kind of Goddess. I waved at Heather. She was talking to some guy with a tattoo crawling down both arms. She smiled and her eyes went right back to him. At least someone knew I had arrived, and I couldn’t be blamed if we lost tomorrow night. I had officially fulfilled my Goddess obligation for the season. I had been on the squad for four months, and I still didn’t feel like it was home yet. I didn’t know that it ever would.

God, I was fed up with all of it. The traditions. The guilt. The embarrassment.

“How’s the drink?” he asked.

“Good.” I took another sip. Vodka had always been my go-to.

If Madame Collette knew I was drinking before a performance, she would have had me doing a hundred pliés to make up for it. My thighs wouldn’t let me do it again. The burn would be seared into my memory. Ballerinas didn’t drink. And they certainly didn’t hook up with random hot guys.

But she wasn’t here, and I wasn’t part of the troupe. No, I was on the dance squad. And this was what the Goddess dancers did.

“Are those your friends over there?” He motioned to the girls, who were probably on their third or fourth drink.

I nodded. “Sort of.” I used the little swizzle stick to push the lime under the ice.

“Would you rather join them?” he asked.

His question caught me off guard. I froze for a second. I could be over there talking about photo shoots and the calendar that was coming out before Christmas. I could talk about how much I loved to shake my ass in front of the fans. How much I loved being on the Warriors’ payroll. How I lived and breathed two things: football and cheering.

But none of that was me. I didn’t want to talk about any of those things, or be reminded that I was a part of the squad.

I looked directly in his eyes, trying not to be thrown off by his dark eyelashes. “I think I like it over here.”

“I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Natalia,” I replied.

“Pretty. Doesn’t sound like a Texas girl’s name.”

I didn’t know why that made me blush. “It’s not. It’s French.”

“French?” His eyes glazed with lust.

There was a moment when the walls fell away and I couldn’t hear the girls laughing. I didn’t hear the guy singing on stage, or the worst pick up lines in history. There was a moment when I felt connected to this complete stranger.

“Mmmhmm,” I responded.

“That explains some of it, I guess.”

I could feel the vodka starting to warm my limbs. “Some of what?” I was curious what he would say.

“Let’s see, I’ve known you what?” He looked at the clock on his phone. “Five minutes?”

I nodded in agreement. “Yes, I think so.”

“And in five minutes, I can tell you’re different. Just how French are you?” He narrowed his eyes as if he was pretending to be a detective.

I laughed. “My father is French and I grew up in Paris. That’s how French I am.”

“So you’d say that tips the scales past the fifty percent mark?” He chuckled and I could see how sexy his smile was. Rows of straight white teeth set behind a strong jawline. Was it the vodka or was he becoming more attractive by the second?

I tended to think the neon lights and the lone singer with the guitar had something to do with it too, but I couldn’t stop staring at his arms. He was ripped.

“Probably so. It doesn’t help that half my family is in Paris and I go back and forth to see them. I take it you’re a Texas guy?”

I needed to ask him a question before I launched into the sad story of my parents’ divorce. I didn’t know why I had already divulged so much to him. He didn’t want to hear about how I alternated holidays between Dallas and Paris. Or how much I hated moving here when I was seventeen. Texas seemed like an armpit after growing up in France.

“Born and bred.” He grinned.

“I think Texans are as proud of where they are from as Parisians are.” I withheld the rest of my commentary.

He looked over his shoulder and scanned the bar. No one was looking at us. It almost felt as if we were the only ones here, lost in a back corner.

He turned around. “I want to say something to you.”

I finished my drink. “Okay. What is it?”

“If this makes me sound like an asshole, so be it.” He paused. “But I’m not going to be in Austin after tomorrow. I travel for work. So I’m not going to pretend that I can call you, or that I’m interested in taking you to dinner.”

I inhaled sharply. My stomach fluttered out of control. Where was he going with this?

“What I am interested in is taking you back to my room.”

His voice was so low it was almost a growl. A growl that sent shivers down my spine and tingled through my legs. Holy shit.

“That’s forward.” I eyed him. “Extremely unexpected and forward.” I arched my eyebrows.

“It’s honest.” He kicked back the rest of his dark drink. I didn’t seem to have thrown him.

“No try-to-get-my-number and promise-you’ll-call in the morning?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not going to call you.” He eyes were set in a determined line.

I licked my lips. “Not even going to try to tell me you want to see me when you’re in town again?”

“Can’t do that.” He leaned toward me. “It’s not possible.”

My heart beat faster. This was unreal.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m either completely offended or completely flattered.” I think both described the emotions I was feeling.

He wrapped an arm around my chair. “Be flattered, darlin’.” His hand made a trail against my neck and down my arm until his fingers twined between mine. “It doesn’t get any more honest than this. I’m willing to break a rule of mine for this.”

“A rule?” I started to panic. “Are you married? Is there a girlfriend? Because regardless of how long you’re here, I’m not a home wrecker.”

“Whoa. Whoa.” He put up his hands. “There is no girlfriend, and definitely no wife.” He leaned toward my ear. “Tonight, there is you. Let’s go.”

“I didn’t say yes,” I whispered. But I was thinking it. Every part of me wanted to get tangled up with him for one night. This had to be the boldest offer I’d ever received. The guy was confident.

No one would know. He wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t hassle me into another night or break my heart because I expected something. He was fucking gorgeous and all he wanted was me.

“But you want to,” he teased. “Don’t think, come with me.”

What was there to think about? He was offering the perfect one-night stand scenario. The excitement mixed with the anticipation and muddled my thoughts. Logic had lost and my hormones took over.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Then come on.” He pulled me from my seat and led me out of the bar. The warm night hit me in the face, but it didn’t knock any sense into me. I fell into step next to him, realizing just how tall he was.

For once, I felt petite next to a man. It was hard being the tallest ballerina in the troupe. I was lucky to find a dance partner who met me eye-to-eye. But Sam wasn’t like those men.

We walked for a block before he stopped.

“What is it?” I asked, wondering if he had decided this was crazy.

Without warning, he pulled me behind another bar. This one had a sign for open mic night. I could hear a guitar through the open door.

“Wh-what…”

But Sam’s lips were on mine and I threw my arms around his neck. His hands snaked under my shirt and I felt the roughness of his palms skim along my back. I moaned as he dipped his tongue inside my mouth. I could taste the sweetness of the bourbon on his tongue.

It wasn’t the kiss I was expecting. A kiss between strangers should be awkward and out of sync, but this wasn’t. His mouth moved over mine as I sucked and toyed with his tongue. Our bodies matched a perfect rhythm, pressing together. This man I had known for less than an hour didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like my everything.

My back was against the wall and Sam filled my vision. My senses. My need for something more.

He broke away and I saw the lust fire in his eyes. He could probably see it in mine.

“I needed to kiss you,” he explained.

I was speechless, either from the kiss or the fact that he was reading my mind. I had no idea how much farther we had to walk, but I hoped it wasn’t that far.