Stalking and restraining orders are a thing of Alayna Wither’s past. With her MBA newly in hand, she has her future figured out—move up at the nightclub she works at and stay away from any guy who might trigger her obsessive love disorder. A perfect plan.
But what Alayna didn’t figure on is Hudson Pierce, the new owner of the nightclub. He’s smart, rich, and gorgeous—the kind of guy Alayna knows to stay away from if she wants to keep her past tendencies in check. Except, Hudson’s fixed his sights on her. He wants her in his bed and makes no secret of it. Avoiding him isn’t an option after he offers a business
proposition she can’t turn down and she’s drawn further into his universe, unable to resist his gravitational pull.
When she learns Hudson has a dark history of his own, she realizes too late that she’s fallen for the worst man she could possibly get involved with. Or maybe their less than ideal pasts give them an opportunity to heal each other and finally find the love their lives have been missing.
I finished the transaction with Regular and slid down the bar to take care of the suit at the end of the counter.
“Now what can I get…you…?” My words trailed off as my eyes met the suit’s, the air leaving my lungs, suddenly sucked out by the sight that met me. The man…he was…gorgeous.
I couldn’t look away, his appearance magnetizing. Which meant he was exactly the type of man I should avoid.
After the numerous heartaches that had dotted my past, I’d discovered that I could divide the men I was attracted to into two categories. The first category could be described as fuck and forget. These were the men that got me going in the bedroom, but were easy to leave behind if necessary. It was the only group I bothered with anymore. They were the safe ones. David fell into this category.
Then there were the men that were anything but safe. They weren’t fuck and forget—they were, “Oh, fuck!” They drew me to them so intensely that I became consumed by them, absolutely focused on everything they did, said and were. I ran from these men, far and fast.
Two seconds after locking eyes with this man, I knew I should be running.
He seemed familiar—he must have been in the club before. But if he had been, I couldn’t imagine that I’d have forgotten. He was the most breathtaking man on the planet—his chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw sat beneath perfectly floppy brown hair and the most intense gray eyes I’d ever seen. His five o’clock shadow made my skin itch, yearning to feel the burn of it against my face—against my inner thighs. From what I could see, his expensive three-piece navy suit was fitted and of excellent taste. And his smell—a distinct fragrance of unscented soap and aftershave and pure male goodness—nearly had me sniffing at the air in front of him like a dog in heat.
But it wasn’t just his incomparable beauty and exquisite display of male sex that had me burning between my legs and searching for the nearest exit. It was how he looked at me, in a way that no man had ever looked at me, a hungry possessiveness present in his stare as if he not only had undressed me in his mind, but had claimed me to be sated by no one ever again except him.
I wanted him instantly, a prickle of fixation taking root in my belly—an old familiar feeling. But that I desired him didn’t matter. The expression on his face said that he would have me whether I wanted it or not, that it was as inevitable as if it had already happened.
It scared the hell out of me. The hair on my skin stood up as witness to my fear.
Or perhaps it rose in delight.