Chapter 2

By the time I arrived at the bar, I was panting with exertion from having climbed two flights of stairs after what must’ve been forty-five minutes of nonstop dancing, and my tongue felt dry, papery as if someone had snatched it out of my mouth to run it over a length of sandpaper before returning it.

Starting to feel lightheaded from the thirst, I was unable to stifle the grateful sigh of relief that escaped my lips as I took a seat on one of the high barstools, easing the pressure caused by the shoes I had on my pinched toes.

Two bartenders stood behind the granite-topped bar island, and one of them, bearded, with a nose ring and boasting heavily tattooed arms, leaned forward with an easy smile I found myself hesitantly returning.

“What can I get you?” he asked, and I was opening my mouth to answer when I realized that my mind had drawn up a blank.

Strange as it may have come across, my experience with things like this remained limited to the few frat parties Paula had managed to talk me into attending in our time at college, and between overwhelming social anxiety and the fear that some predatory Greek life boy would take advantage of me if I got too inebriated I’d only managed a few sips of cheap wine each time before quietly making my way out before 11 p.m.

As a result, in whatever group of friends I found myself in, I was always assigned the job of a designated driver.

Now I was seated, paralyzed, wearing an expression that must have appeared to the barkeep as a deer caught in headlights at the thought of having to pick out a drink for myself. I resisted the urge to tap my fingers on the counter, betraying my nervousness, and instead cleared my throat.

“Could I get some water, maybe?” I said, inwardly preening at the mere fact that there hadn’t been a catch in my voice.

A funny look crossed his face, and a corner of his mouth quirked up as he pulled away for a short moment, digging beneath the counter until he came up with a sealed bottle of cold mineral water. Droplets splattered all over my hand as he placed it in front of me, and it was all I could do not to pop off the cap with my teeth and guzzle down the whole thing as my body demanded I should.

Instead, I murmured my thanks, uncapping the bottle like any normal human being would before pushing my head to take a big gulp of the cool beverage. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted in my life, and I could feel tears of relief pearl at the corner of my eyes as I took another unmeasured gulp, fighting down a wince when a wave of brain freeze hit me.

“Jesus,” I bit out, opening my eyes to find the barkeep flashing a grin at me.

“It’ll pass,” he said kindly, shaking his head when I offered him my credit card. “It’s on the house. Just let me know if you have any questions or need help choosing a drink.”

With one final wink, he turned away, his warm smile intact as he took the order of a customer positioned two stools away from me.

Busying myself with finishing up my drink, I was aware of the fact that I probably looked like a deflated balloon at this point of the evening, sweaty and tired. The mineral water helped, but it still felt stiflingly hot; a result, I believed, of the mass of teeming bodies caught in an endless loop of movement one floor below.

I waited until it felt like I’d recovered most of my energy and ordered a pink margarita for Paula, knowing from personal experience that she lived off the beverage.

Having paid, I slid off my stool, drink in hand, as I wracked my brain on how best I would carry it through the crowd below without having one drop spill, and I was so preoccupied going down this line of thought that I it was too late to sidestep the man who approached me so that even before I could fully comprehend what was going on I’d spilled the margarita down the front of his expensive-looking blazer.

To his credit, he didn’t let out a yelp (though I couldn’t have said the same for myself) or try to raise his voice at me, and I could count the seconds that went by in which the both of us stared down his newly wet torso saying nothing, a spell which broke as soon as he uttered a single cuss word in a smooth and resonant baritone which flowed effortlessly out of him. I jumped into action, rummaging through my purse for a hanky which I held up triumphantly before making a move to dab at the blazer, but he silently sidestepped me, hands held up as he ignored my flustered apologies.

He stalked away, powerful shoulders moving with barely suppressed feline grace beneath the clothes he had on. I figured he would be back and made a decision to wait for him.

Quickly, I pulled my phone out of my clutch and shot off a text to Paula, who I informed would have to make do on her own after debriefing her on what had gone down.

I wondered what I would say to the man if he returned to the bar. Definitely offer to foot the bill for dry-cleaning, I surmised. And maybe a round of drinks on me would take the sting out of things a little bit.

I couldn’t be sure, and so to kill time, I let my eyes wander as I busied myself with finishing up my bottle of water. When I was through with it I let my eyes peruse the digital menu splayed above the drinks cabinet until I came upon something vaguely familiar-sounding.

Hailing down the friendly barkeep, I ordered a Cosmopolitan and watched entranced as he built all the ingredients in an ice-filled shaker tine, which he then shook vigorously before straining into a martini glass garnished with a single lime wheel.

Beads of condensed liquid rolled down the body of the martini glass, and I was in the process of lifting it up to take a sip of the beverage when I sensed that I was being watched.

For the second time that evening, I’d just about begun my steady scan of the room, only to be interrupted by a man who slid into the stool beside mine, which registered as coming a little too close to comfort for my tastes.

A beat passed, and then I recognized the man over whom I’d spilled Paula’s margarita, and then it took another before a bone-deep certainty gripped me that this was the same man I’d caught staring at me earlier from his place behind the railing.

He’d changed into a short-sleeved silk button-up that did wonders for his biceps, which flexed with the ease of one who dedicated at least four days every week to rigorous exercise sessions that would last for hours on end.

I was unnerved. First, because I still hadn’t caught a good glimpse of the man, but also because of how easily he ignored my overall existence despite having sat so close to me. I mean, that had to count for something.

“Excuse me,” I said against my better judgment, leaning ever so slightly forward.

My paltry attempt at subtlety must’ve fallen short as, without a moment’s hesitation, he turned, pinning me in place with eyes that could’ve ranged anywhere from ice blue to gray – in the ever-shifting lights of the club, I could only make out the fact that they were light, and not their exact color.

Inky black hair framed a magnificently sculpted face, on which sat a pair of surprisingly full lips, a Grecian nose, and cheekbones that Paula would’ve described as having been designed to cut down the enemy.

I tried to gather my thoughts, which scattered like sand, into a semblance of cohesive speech.

“Um, my drink,” I managed finally with a swallow, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me. “Spilled, I accidentally poured it down your blazer. I’m sorry.”

A long moment passed before he graced me with a reply, which came accompanied by an awkwardly self-conscious attempt at a smile that made his devastating handsomeness all the more maddening.

“Don’t worry. It’s already taken care of.”

“But I mean, I’d to pay for the dry-cleaning,” I insisted, feeling my heart skip a beat when a corner of his mouth turned down in a frown.

“As I said, it’s already taken care of.”

Unsurprisingly, I was lost for words and found myself unconsciously reaching for my martini glass. I knocked out a quarter of the Cosmo in a single gulp, barely registering its sour-sweet taste, confronted as I was in that moment by the most exquisite specimen of masculinity I’d ever seen in my life.

He motioned at the same bartender who’d serviced me forward, and I noticed the big bear of a man shuffling up to us with a nervous smile.

“I’d like what she’s having,” he said with all the ease of a man used to having others scramble to fulfill his every whim, and in like fashion, I watched Jerry jump deferentially – he literally jumped – to make his drink.

“I hope you know that that’s on me,” I cut in smoothly, doing the math in my head as I tallied up the figures of every cost I’d incurred that evening, hoping another set of drinks wouldn’t see me go bankrupt.

The mystery man shot me a look that I could only describe as giddy, nodded his acquiescence, and in reply, I took another sip of my drink.

Within moments, Jerry had strained his drink into a champagne flute and was topping it off with actual champagne.

“Here you go, sir,” he said, pushing the flute forward.

The man accepted it, offering Jerry a nod of appreciation, which the big man seemed to preen over before holding out his glass and nodding at me in a gesture to suggest I mimic him, which I did.

Our glasses clinked softly, and I asked him what it was that we were cheering for.

“Alcohol,” he replied without the least bit of irony, before pushing his head back to take a gulp of his drink.

It must’ve hit him pretty hard as Mystery Man (what I’d settled on calling him in my head) let out a bark of laughter that attracted curious looks from the other patrons. Looks he summarily dismissed as he braced his arms on either side of the counter before turning to face me.

“I’m Aurora,” I replied even though he hadn’t asked, and only a second later did it dawn on me that I hadn’t given an alias as I was used to doing every time men hit on me in public.

Perhaps it had everything to do with how disarmingly beautiful he looked and how even now, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that he wanted from me. I didn’t think it a coincidence that he’d watched me on the dance floor only to have us bump into each other, but the contradictions his actions presented left me maddened.

Paula would say that if a man wanted you then it wouldn’t be up for debate, and usually, I agreed with this sentiment, except for all his self-possession and the easy swagger with which he carried himself, a part of me knew that in some way that we were kindred spirits, and he was as new to this as I was.

Either way, it didn’t look like he actually believed Aurora to be my given name, and I didn’t know if this relieved or irked me.

“I’m… Kane,” he said, and as soon as he spoke the words I knew he’d given me a name that was not his, or at least one he wasn’t used to using.

I frowned, surprised at the sudden lance of hurt I felt go through my heart at the thought that this man – Kane, he’d said – hadn’t trusted me with his name, and tried to mask this by taking another sip of my drink.

We made small talk, skittering around topics we forgot as soon as we moved on to the next one; the man offered to buy me another Cosmo when he saw I’d finished mine so that as the night progressed, a feeling of complete contentment suffused me.

Also, I wanted this Adonis to push me flush up against a wall and screw me senseless.

I tried to recall the last time I’d had a man evoke this animal instinct within an hour of meeting them and came up with an answer fairly quickly: none. Not even David.

An interlude came in which the conversation died down. Our gazes locked, and I felt a current of delicious electricity shoot through my nerves, my nipples, and my thighs.

I don’t know who bridged the gap, but all of a sudden, we were kissing, and a far-off part of my consciousness scolded that we were in public, but I couldn’t care less, caught up as I was in the way our tongues battled for dominance until I ceded, and watched myself take shape under his hands.

Finally, we pulled away, coming up for air, and it struck me that at that moment, if I held a mirror up to my face I wouldn’t recognize the girl who’d stare back, but my train of thought stuttered to a halt when I felt Kane’s hands engulf mine in his.

He threaded our fingers together, and I watched him swallow, realizing for the first time that he’d been as affected as I was by the kiss and found it shocking. Our hands remained like this for a second more, and then he pulled away, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind my ear.

I could feel my heart flutter inside me.

“Would you like to get out of here?” Kane asked, looking directly into my eyes.