He takes a step forward. “Miss me?”
I look over the banister at the people below, but no one down there or any of the people behind me know what’s happening. Everyone seems unaware of the peril I’m in … except me.
Both staircases are blocked, one by plenty of guests, and to get to the other, I’d have to pass him. And something tells me that’s going to be hard, maybe even impossible.
I gulp and contemplate my options as I peer down at the crowd, wondering if I could make the jump without breaking a bone. Probably not.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says, immediately drawing my attention away again.
“Who are you? Did you follow me?” I mutter, taking a step back again, my hand still clutching the railing.
His brow rises playfully. “Is that really the question you want to ask me?”
He doesn’t stop getting closer, and I can’t help but pull back into my shell, wondering how I’m going to escape. If I even can.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says, placing a hand on the banister too. “Not unless you ask me to.”
My eyes immediately zoom in on the spot where he kept his gun last time, but his expensive suit covers it. He smiles and slides aside the flaps. “I’m not carrying. I didn’t want to scare you, so I left it in the car.”
“Too late for that.” My stance grows rigid as I stop moving away and slam my lips together. “What do you want?”
He takes another step, eyeing me down as if he’s testing me. To try to see if I run or if I’m up for the challenge.
I stay put, even when my heart screams for me to flee.
I cannot give another man the pleasure of winning. Not this time. Not tonight.
“What I want is irrelevant to this situation you’re in …” he murmurs.
A few fingers suddenly caressing the top of my hand tear my eyes away from his. But before I can pull my hand back, he’s grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the banister.
“And your situation seems quite precarious.”
“My situation? What are you talking about?” I taunt.
I know damn well what kind of danger I’m in when I’m near a guy like him, but I won’t show that to him. The devilish smile forming on his lips tells me he’s a man who enjoys that kind of thing. The hunt. The chase. Seeing a woman on her knees, begging. That type. But I’m not here to indulge him in his needs.
“With you here, it definitely is,” I retort, and I try to twist myself free of his grip, but he won’t let go.
“I’d beg you to think twice about who you believe is really the enemy here …” He steps so close that I have to suck in a breath for my chest not to touch his. I can smell his cologne as he towers over me. “After all, that man at the strip club ran because of me.”
“You think you’re different?” I scoff, throwing a look at how he’s still got ahold of me.
His grip only tightens, and he gets up close really quick. “Do not compare me to that swine.” His nostrils flare. “You would let any man touch you like that, but not me.”
I slap him. Hard.
And when he turns his head to me, a red mark appears on his cheek. Damn.
“I … I …” I mutter.
He grabs my only free hand and pins that to the railing too, trapping me between him and the twenty-foot drop below.
“I deserved that.” His eyes narrow as he cocks his head. “You’re feistier than I thought.”
He leans in so far that I’m inclined backward over the edge. Panic rushes through my veins, sweat pooling on my back, as the only thing holding me back from falling is this handsome devil.
“What do you want?” I mutter.
His hand suddenly reaches for my face, and I struggle to stay put, even with one hand on the banister. His index finger and thumb slide aside a few strands of my hair until it all tumbles down over the edge, exposing my neck.
His smile broadens. “You are too beautiful. Too perfect … for him.”
My pupils dilate. “Who?”
But I already know who. The question is … how does he know?
“Come on, don’t play me for a fool,” he replies, tilting his head so he can look at me from underneath his dark lashes. “You know as well as I do who I’m talking about.”
He leans in, pressing his heavy, muscular chest against mine. His lips purse, and my eyes search for anything to look at except him … because looking at him brings fire to my body in a way no one else ever has.
His face meets mine, his stubble grazing my skin. A touch near my earlobe sends electricity all through my body.
“Say his name,” he whispers.
“Chris,” I mutter under my breath. “How do you know about him?”
“That’s not important right now. What is important is why you know so little about him,” he replies. He smiles against my earlobe. “He doesn’t deserve you, and you know it.”
How does this man know so much about my life? Is he a … stalker?
“Will you end things?” he asks.
My lungs suck in a breath, desperate for air even though every movement pushes me farther into him.
“Will you fight?” he asks.
Fight who? Him … or Chris?
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. What do you—”
Before I can say anything else, his lips have landed on mine. It’s so sudden, so violent, that I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening until it already is. His kiss is so subtle yet so powerful that I’m left grasping for reality. I don’t know what’s happening and don’t know how to stop it … And I don’t even know if I really want to.
Because this man’s lips are like fire scorching my soul. His kiss deepens, and his hand moves from my wrist to my waist, cupping me tight to bring me closer to his body. An animalistic groan leaves his mouth, and it pushes all my buttons. The way he holds me is greedy, but his kiss is even greedier.
It’s a kiss that sucks all the air out of your body without ever feeling like you need to breathe. The kind of kiss that leaves you breathless without trying. The kind of kiss you never want to stop. That happens once in a lifetime.
And this is mine.
When this man’s lips slowly move away from mine to allow me a second to breathe,
the shock of what just happened overwhelms me until I remember that I already have someone to call mine. My boyfriend, Chris. Or at least he was until he kissed another woman.
And the mere thought of seeing her wrap her hands around him brings me back to reality and forces me to come face-to-face with what I’ve done. I’m no better than Chris.
The stranger suddenly says, “A kiss … for a kiss.”
Did he just … ?
My eyes widen.
He knows.
“How?” I mutter.
“Make a choice,” he says. Grabbing my hand, he pulls it to his lips, pressing a sweet, sinful kiss on top. “Him … or me.”
Why would he ask me this?
His hand rises to meet my face, and he pushes aside my hair only to pause. His brows furrow as he homes in on the side of my neck.
I gasp.
The bruises.
I try to cover them up, but it’s too late, and a blush spreads on my cheek.