I’ve never been to a place quite like this club before. Sure, I’ve been to a couple of classy expensive restaurants, and even a couple of exclusive clubs, but never to a club where the rich go to hurt each other, degrade themselves and rut like animals.

Although after working at the hotel for a few months I should be more inured to this sort of thing. And of course on the heels of the thought comes an image of Rook, shirtless, bare-chested, his skin striped with red, his hair messy, his eyes dark with desire.

His taste on my lips, on my tongue, spicy and warm like mulled wine.

God. I shake my head to get rid of the memory. Not here, not now. I focus on the man I came here with, a guy whose name I hate—unlike Rook’s that’s been branded in gold letters in my memory from the moment he said it—and enough.

Stop. Thinking. About. Rook.

It doesn’t help that this looks just like the kind of place he’d spend his time at. These people here look the part of bored, depraved millionaires. Handsome men in tailored suits, cigars and crystal glasses in their hands, beautiful women with impeccable curves and hair, dressed in gowns that have to cost more than my car.

Scratch that, more than my frigging apartment.

“Mia, where are you going?” The guy, Alfred O’Connor, son of a ship owner and arrogant ass all around, grabs my arm and hauls me to him. “You seem distracted.”

“Not at all,” I lie.

Because apart from my naughty thoughts of Rook, I’m also looking for someone, and she isn’t there.

Come on, Lucy, where are you? She should be here by now. I’m not sure I can do this. I’ve tried to keep the nerves at a minimum, but suddenly they’re about to get the better of me.

“I, uh. I need to use the bathroom.” I pull on my date’s hand, and he shoots me an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?” Alfred O’Connor is the epitome of tall, rich and arrogant, with his expensive haircut and cold eyes. “Now you want to use the bathroom?”

“Yes.” I tug again, and he lets go with a grunt of disgust. “Now.”

He mutters something about stupid women, and I pretend my hackles aren’t all up as I hurry away, fishing in my purse for my phone.

Where the hell is Lucy? She was supposed to join us and provide distraction while I hack Alfred’s tablet, and instead I ended up two steps from the pain rooms of this accursed club. If anyone could get me inside that, it would be Rook, not this moron.

I stop in my tracks. What’s wrong with my mind these days? Of course Rook wouldn’t get me inside a pain room. This is nothing to do with me, this… scene. This strange set-up he apparently needs to get off.

Dammit.

I fight with my purse that refuses to produce my phone, instead offering me a selection of tampons and lipsticks. I guess I was kinda stressed about coming here, about fitting in, with the clothes, and hair, and yeah, make-up.

Grumbling to myself, I locate the women’s toilets and head that way, stumbling on my stilettos in the half-darkness, and my phone is still AWOL.

This isn’t my day, I swear. Between the hotel and this rich but seedy club, I’m at the end of my rope.

I push on the bathroom door, and inside I find a line of women waiting—or just hanging out? Not sure. Some are applying make-up, others are talking or checking their phones. All are dressed in skimpy tiny dresses and heels like skyscrapers. They make me feel positively underdressed.

I back away and stop right outside, in the dark hallway. The beat of the music is muted here, and I can see the lights lining the dark bar, illuminating the bottles set on the shelves behind the barman. Whispers and voices lace the air, and the staff weave among the tables and guests like dim ghosts.

A muted cry makes me jolt and automatically search the hallway for the source, until I remember where I am, and that this isn’t a normal night club.

Jesus.

Finally my questing fingers close around my cell phone, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I lift it out of my purse. I unlock the screen, and see a text message from Lucy.

There’s a holdup. Can you wait?

Jeez, no, I can’t wait! I have no desire to be tied up and flogged while Lucy changes her flat tire, or whatever the frigging holdup is. I will somehow search Alfred’s wallet myself, and see if tonight is salvageable.

I’m about to call her and tell her just that, when I see a man walking down the hallway, heading toward me.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, striding like a predator hunting prey. Confident. Even in the dimness I can tell how handsome he is, from the fine lines of his face to his powerful body.

Just then I realize I’m looking at the man who’s been haunting my thoughts all day. What do you know… he’s here after all.

Rook Carter.

And he’s coming straight at me.

* * *

It is him. My eyes are not deceiving me.

Well, put me in a red dress and call me Sally. Wait… Done that. Sort of.

He stops a few feet away and cocks his head to the side, a bemused expression on his handsome face. “Mia? I thought it was you.”

I swallow hard, because he looks damn good. “And you were right.”

“I’m always right.” He shoves his big hands in his pants pockets and rocks forward on his feet, his hot gaze raking over me, lingering on my boobs, then my legs.

“That so?”

He lifts his eyes to my face. Even in the low light, I see them clearly. So dark, fringed by long lashes. Hot. Hazy with lust. “You look damn good in red, woman.”

I’m torn between slapping him again and laughing. “Woman?”

No slapping, I decide. He likes it too much.

“One hundred percent woman,” he says, his voice going low and raspy, and I swear I feel it deep inside my belly, a clench and a shiver. “Damn hot.”

Heat spreads over my neck and face. I shouldn’t like the way he talks to me. Shouldn’t like the way he stalks me. But holy crap, it hits me somewhere deep inside, a place I can’t control that sends heat flushing through my system and fries my brain.

He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back, hitting the wall. “Rook…”

“Yeah.” He leans in, so close the heat of his strong body seeps into mine, and props one hand on the wall by my head, his face dipping to mine. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about you.”

When his mouth falls on mine, I give in without hesitation. I can’t think straight when he’s pressing his warm lips to mine, when his tongue slides into my mouth and licks me, when his body… oh good God, when that powerful body molds to mine, every hard ridge and smooth plane of it turning my knees weak and muting the protests in my mind.

His tongue tangles with mine, and he grunts, slamming his other hand by my head, too, another part of his anatomy pressing into me, long, and thick, and hard.

Whoa.

One of his hands drops to the back of my head, angling my head to kiss me harder, his tongue thrusting past my lips, and crap, I feel it between my legs, a steady, heady throb. Can’t remember the last time I was so turned on, that I wanted a guy so much. My rational brain never turns off, never. No guy has ever gotten me so crazy with lust that I won’t think straight and tick off reasons, consequences, results.

Until Rook. He short-circuits my synapses, bypasses rational thinking, setting my body on fire.

Not good.

I put a hand on his shoulder, to push him away, but instead I find myself grabbing at his jacket and pulling him closer.

How can this annoying, damaged rich guy be so addictive? His taste… God. I could stand here, kissing him, all night. Every sweep of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth on my lips, every whiff of his delicious scent makes me burn for more.

His hard-on is burning against my stomach, through the layers of fabric. I want him inside me, I want him naked over me, holy crap…

“Why,” he whispers against my mouth, muscles bulging in his chest, rubbing deliciously over my barely covered boobs as he crushes me further into the wall. “Why are you here, why…?”

But before his question cuts through the haze of need that has addled my senses, he grabs me and drags me through a half-open door, closing it behind him.

I have a brief impression of a desk, papers and folders, and then he’s on me again. Did he even lock that door? Did he—?

His mouth finds mine as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. Then he sweeps papers aside and lifts me onto the desk. They flutter to the floor, and I don’t care, because he bites into my lower lip and tugs.

Shit, it shouldn’t feel so good, but it does, sending zings of pleasure down my core. I grab at his arms, but he shoves himself between my legs.

Not much space there. My long dress is narrow. But that doesn’t seem to faze him. He keeps one hand on the back of my head, breaking the kiss only for a second as he reaches down casually with his other hand and rips the seam of my dress, spreading my bare legs wide.

I gasp when he steps between them, pressing his hard-on against me. Oh shit… A moan leaves my lips, and he stifles it with another bruising kiss.

His hand caresses my bared thigh, then grabs my leg and lifts it. He raises my foot until the stiletto presses on his pec, over his heart. He looks down at it, breathing hard, a flush to his cheeks. He presses it harder into his hard pec, over the blinding-white shirt.

Does it hurt?

Does he like it?

He lowers my foot and drapes my leg around his hip, bending over me and capturing my mouth again. “Need you,” he grunts against my lips. “Now.”

I can’t speak, the feel of his hard body so close to mine playing havoc on my senses, the pressure of his cock against my softest, most sensitive of places taking away my power of speech.

He settles my leg more securely around him, then digs in his jacket pocket and produces a black square foil.

Condom, my mind says, although I’ve never seen a black foil before.

He bites the edge and rips it open, and I can’t look away from his white teeth biting into the black plastic.

I lick my lips, hot all over.

He spits out the piece he bit off and meets my gaze straight on. “Take out my cock, baby girl,” he says, and my hands are already sliding down to his zipper without any conscious thought on my part.

I slip the button open. The zipper rasps as I tug it down. The fine fabric of his gray pants falls open, and I drag down his black, silken boxer briefs.

His hard cock lifts, and I stroke my hand over it, closing my fingers around its thickness, sort of awestruck. What’s happening to me? Why do I need to hold his cock in my hand, pet it, feel it?

His hand descends over mine, long, strong fingers covering mine. When I glance up, I find his eyes on me, dark and unreadable.

He pulls my hand away, and hands me the condom, free from its foil. “Put it on me.”

As if in a dream, I take the condom and roll it on his thick cock. My hands are shaking, my breasts ache, and my insides are clenched tight with want. Jesus, I want him so much it hurts.

He reaches down for his cock the moment the condom is on. “I’m gonna fuck you now, kitten. I want you to wrap both legs around me, and hold on tight for the ride.”

“Bossy,” I whisper, no idea why his words turn me on so much.

“You know it,” he mutters and bites into his lower lip as he strokes himself, then presses the tip of his cock between my legs.

No foreplay. No teasing. My heart beats an unsteady rhythm in my chest. Fear. Anticipation. Excitement. I’m throbbing madly between my legs, deep inside, needing him to fill me, and bracing for the intrusion.

Oh God. This isn’t like me. I don’t do this sort of thing. I’m a good girl. My head is on straight. I don’t do one-night stands, and I don’t do strangers, especially not on the job.

Only he’s not a stranger, is he? I have more than his name this time. We’ve kissed and talked before.

And awesome, now my head is full of excuses and reasons as to why it’s okay to do this.

Then he pushes into me and my mind falls quiet, stunned into silence. Or maybe it’s my body that’s stunned? He’s huge, and it hurts a little, but it’s also good.

So good.

He has one hand curled on the back of my neck, the other under my thigh, lifting me up, spreading me wider as he slowly shoves his way into me, and all I can do is take it. Take him in.

A thought surfaces briefly when he stops to let me catch my breath, pressed so intimately inside me, against me, his hard chest almost flush with mine.

He’s not as I imagined.

He’s not submissive. Passive. On the contrary, he acts like a dom. So damn aggressive. I still don’t understand him.

But then he pushes deeper inside me, and the thought is gone. Poof. I’m full, too full, unbearably so. I try to squirm, to relieve the pressure, but he won’t let me move, his grip on my neck and my leg tight like a vise of steel.

“Breathe, kitten,” he growls, the muscles in his thighs bunching up as he keeps himself totally still. “Relax. Let me in.”

What does he mean, in? He’s in so deep I’m not sure there’s anywhere else to go, deeper than anyone has ever been before. But I have to do something, or I’ll split apart with that nuclear warhead he’s shoved into me, and I draw a deep breath.

Let it out.

And somehow he slips in even deeper, startling a cry from my throat. He groans and jerks a little, his grip on me slackening and trembling.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps, his face contorting. “Hot damn.”

The pressure is making me writhe and whine deep in my throat. I don’t know where I am, who I am, what I came here to do. What I need… is right out of my grasp. I can’t… I need…

“I’ve got you, kitten,” he mutters, and pulls back an inch or two, only to slam back inside me, crushing his lips to mine, muffling my cry with his mouth.

Pleasure, so much of it. I writhe on his cock, and my body bows backward as I try to press closer to him, take more of him inside.

As if that’s possible. I’ve never been stretched like that in my frigging life, and it’s getting better by the second, with every thrust. I’m falling apart, I’m about to come, and that’s me, a girl who’d needed like, an hour of foreplay with her ex-boyfriend for any chance of finishing.

Not tonight. Maybe it’s pent-up desire from seeing him, kissing him, watching him, thinking about him for weeks and months, seeing him inside his suite, half-dressed and marked, fantasizing… yes, okay, so I have fantasized about sex with him.

A lot.

And now he’s moving inside me, so much crazy pressure, so good, and he’s bent over me, eyes half-closed, teeth bared as he fucks me hard. Driving me crazy with need, the need to come, finally find release from all that pressure twisting me up inside.

I shouldn’t be with this man, shouldn’t even consider it, shouldn’t… Oh God… My legs tighten around his narrow hips, my heels digging into the small of his back. Yes…

My hands slip down his cotton-covered arms, feeling his muscles coil and shift, digging in my nails.

He hisses, his cock thickening more, and he fucks me harder, until I’m sliding on top of the desk. He bends over me, grunting, letting go of my neck so that I lie on my back, spread open underneath him. He props his hand by my side and pistons in and out of me, his eyes falling shut.

“Damn, kitten… I can’t hold back anymore.” A barely-there whisper through gritted teeth. “Come for me. Now.”

Ridiculous. That he’d expect me to come at his command. That he’d expect… holy crap, I’m going to…

Shit…

His cock slams into me one more time, and I struggle to keep back a wail as my pussy clenches around his thickness and I come, shattering apart.

“Yeah, oh yeah, baby, this…” His voice breaks on a tortured moan. His hips jerk, and he pushes into me as deep as possible, his cock pulsing through the condom. “Fuck.”

We definitely did that.

Holy frigging shit.

My body is shaking, and I can’t make it stop. My limbs feel like wet noodles, and my pussy is still clenching around his—still impressively big—cock, although from the way he’s slumped over me, still and breathing hard, I know I wasn’t mistaken.

He came, too.

Holy shit, Lucy will have a coronary when she finds out how I broke my two-year streak in a back office of a seedy rich men’s club with Rook Carter.

Oh God… Lucy.

The club.

Alfred.

I shove uselessly at Rook’s muscular chest, and he frowns, slowly straightening, pulling out of me.

Making me moan. Again.

Crap. “I have to go, I have to—”

Someone bangs on the door behind him, and I jerk. “Mia? You in here? What the fuck’s going on?”

Rook gives me a long, hard look, then glances at the door.

Which swings open. There’s someone standing in the opening, and a cold shiver goes through me when I recognize Alfred, an unfamiliar woman at his back.

What the hell was I thinking? “I’m here,” I say shakily, sliding down to the floor, wobbly on my heels, aware my dress is ripped on one side and my face and chest are flushed. I’m probably sporting beard burns, too.

Awesome.

A choked noise from Rook snaps my attention back to him. His face has gone white. “You’re with this guy?”

What’s going on?

Alfred steps inside, and I brace for whatever he’s about to tell me, but he’s still focused on Rook.

“Roderick Carter. I think my brother was looking for you earlier.”

“He found me,” Rook grinds out, his gaze still hard, bouncing from Alfred to me and back. So different from the hazy look of pleasure it’d held moments ago, and it bothers me.

Something’s off.

“You know each other?” I mutter, although it’s obvious. God, I need to get out of here. “Look, something came up. I need to go. Sorry about that.”

Grabbing my purse from the desk, I stalk past Alfred, who surprisingly lets me pass without a word.

Weird.

And I need to find Lucy. A glance at my phone shows several missed calls from her I didn’t even hear.

But Alfred is still staring at Rook, who’s staring right back at him, his hands clenching at his sides.

“We’ll get you, Carter,” Alfred says, his voice and expression cold. “You thought your friends got away and that’s that? Think again.”

“My friends and I are sending you a message,” Rook says evenly. “We’ll fuck you up and tear you down until you won’t know where to run. Mark my words, Alfred. This isn’t over.”

My phone starts ringing, and I tear myself away from the small room where I let this man fuck me like a cheap whore, determined to forget all about what happened tonight, and hopefully get out of here in one piece.

What’s between Alfred and Rook shouldn’t concern me. It’s not what I came here for. Rook isn’t who I came here for.

But his connection to Alfred is troubling, and I need to talk to Lucy like whoa.

Where the hell is she?