I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I can’t do this. I want to have sex with her. God, do I want to, but she’s beautiful and luminous, and I think if I fuck her, I’ll somehow tarnish her. Because that’s all this’ll be, sex in a dark club, and she’s not the kind of girl I want to use and abuse for one night.

Shit. I sound like a chick.

I’ve never, ever turned down sex before, but I know how I treat women, and I don’t want to do this to her. She doesn’t even know my name.

“Babe, really, we don’t have to do this,” I say against her mouth, unable to peel my body off of hers.

I’m trying to think of a way to stop our momentum when the door rattles with a knock.

Danielle jerks back as someone yells, “Open up. I gotta get my shit.”

Danielle leaps off me and races around the couch, grabbing her clothes. Her long hair is tangled around her, and the only thing I can do is sit here and watch. Her pale skin looks radiant against the black of her clothes.

“Hold on a sec,” she yells as she flings my shirt at me. She sees my expression and stops. “You okay?”

I clear my throat and nod as I stand to tug on my clothes.

When she’s dressed, she turns to see that my shirt is on, and she unlatches the door. The blonde on the other side looks pissed. I think she’s one of the bartenders.

“Sorry,” Danielle says, looking genuinely remorseful.

“It’s about fucking time.” The girl checks me out, her eyes traveling slowly up my body. She smiles seductively, apparently not caring that I’m here with someone else or that Danielle is watching her flirt with me. The woman unwraps her black apron from her waist as though she’s doing a striptease, and I can see the tension in Danielle’s body.

I walk up to my little angel, throw my arm around her shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“Yeah, sorry. My girl and I got carried away.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. But the smile on Danielle’s face damn near breaks open my chest.

It’s crazy that I’m feeling like this because I don’t know anything about her except that we have volcanic chemistry, but I’d like to know her, and for that I need more time.

Yeah, I definitely need her for more than one night.

* * *

My biggest problem at the moment is my raging hard-on. We walk slowly back through the dark hall, and I rack my brain to think of something to lose the boner before we make it to the bar.

Then it comes to me: Will Ferrell.

Better.

The moment we reach the dance floor, Danielle pulls away. “I need to run to the bathroom. Can we meet up at the bar in ten minutes?” She looks unsure, and there are a thousand things I want to tell her, but the music is deafening.

I nod. I know I should kiss her. Reassure her. She must think I’m a dick. Most girls do after we hook up. Or they want more. I can never find the happy medium except for Natasha, but a steady diet of her is like eating Starbursts for every meal.

I’m about to ask Danielle for her number in case we get separated, but she turns and darts through the crowd.

When she gets back, we’ll make plans for dinner tomorrow night. I want to know more about this girl.

I watch her disappear into the darkness. It doesn’t escape me that I’ve been calling her baby all night. There’s only one other girl I ever called that.

“Jax!” I turn to find Jenna, my sister’s roommate. “Where the fuck have you been?”

She’s drunk. She’s hysterical when she’s sober, but when she’s drunk, my friends piss their pants. Her boyfriend Ryan sidles up to her and drapes his arm around her. If I was dating Jenna, I’d want the world to know it too. She’s gorgeous. But don’t let the blonde hair and hot bod fool you. She’s smart as hell.

“Thanks for the party, man,” I tell her boyfriend. Ryan had a shit ton of people over at his house to celebrate before we came to the club.

He grins. “My pleasure. Dude, you should come over next Sunday. We’re watching the Notre Dame game, and the girls are making us lunch.”

“Sounds great. I’m there.”

Ryan is the lead singer of some indie band. I can never remember their name, but I heard them play once. They’re really good. By the end of their show, girls were tossing their clothes on stage.

He and Jenna have been together a while. At least a couple of years. I never understood it before now, how he could have girls lining up for him after a gig, but he always went home with his girlfriend. He deserves some kind of medal for his commitment. But these days, I kind of get maybe wanting something more. No doubt it’s a sign of the apocalypse.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Hannah.

“I need your help! Got locked out. Chloe’s inside. Left something on the stove. Where are you? I’m freaking out.”

Shit. Hannah is a great mom, but she can be a total space cadet. Chloe is probably asleep, but this isn’t good.

Her texts keep coming.

“Can’t get hold of building manager.”

“What if food on stove burns?”

“Chloe’s dad went out of town.”

“What do I do?”

Goddamn it, Hannah. She and her husband argued all week, and he leaves just in time for this to happen.

“Dude, I gotta go,” I tell Ryan. “See you next weekend.” I do the dude slap on the shoulder and head toward the exit.

My phone lights up again. “I can hear her crying. She’s afraid of the dark.”

Ah, hell.

I text back. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Even though she’s a good twenty-five minutes away.

Once I make it on the street, I’m about to hail a cab when a red Mustang pulls up. It’s Natasha. I told her to join us if she was around.

“I need a ride home. It’s an emergency.” I hop in the car. I don’t even have to explain. Her wheels screech, and she honks, making a dozen people jump out of her way.

And then I remember Danielle.

Fuck!