Chapter 02. Hitting My Target

Anne-Marie’s P.O.V

I’ve only been to the club once—my freshman year in college. Not my kind of place, but tonight is for letting loose and forgetting all about my miserable life for once. 

Trap music booms from the ceiling, walls, everywhere. Sweaty bodies gyrate hard against each other. Bright red and white laser lights illuminate the entire club, adding to the madness and chaos as people party and drink to oblivion. 

I’m not missing out either. In our private VIP booth, which I paid for because Baldie the harasser sent me a whooping twenty-five grand to shut me up—half of what I should have earned in a year—I let out a throat-shaking scream, clapping with liquid courage and temporary excitement as a shirtless, oiled man hops on our table.

Beatrice and Diana, my childhood friends, scream their lungs out to cheer. My cheeks catch fire as he comes for me, sliding and faking a thrust with his thighs spread wide, his gaze locked on mine. 

“How do you wanna be pleased tonight, Baby?” He purrs, dragging his eyes so lustfully over my body. My sheer, thin-strapped top is to blame. Despite being already tipsy, I shake my head, screaming, backing away, and hoping he doesn’t touch me.

“Go, Anne! Go, Anne! Go, Anne-Marie!” My girls keep cheering and laughing.

I spring off the cushion with a start, bolting in embarrassment. I sway in my steps, but I push my hair out of my face and look over my shoulder at him. He flashes a wink at me before gliding onto Diana’s lap.

“Good for you, girl!” I yell, clapping when she starts to touch his chest and holler.

I could never. But I want to. I want to be reckless for one night. My eyes flick to the energetic dance floor. That’s where I want to be.

“Girl, how are you going to get laid tonight if you run away?” Beatrice teases, topping a shot glass. 

Laughing, I move back to the table and snatch her drink before she can. I down it in one go, then offer the empty glass to her, shaking my head as I stick my tongue out.“More.”

“You’re getting wasted before you find yourself a d***?” 

“Yup!” I answer, watching her fill my glass. 

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops, her eyes frozen on whatever she’s looking at behind me. I start to turn my head—

“Don’t look now,” she says through gritted teeth and withdraws the bottle of spirit. I remain still, eyes darting from side to side as my skin tingles. “Four. Freaking. Hot. Men just walked in. They’re checking you out. All of them.”

I flick a brow, taking my time to move the glass to my lips, savoring the terrible and spicy taste of my drink. And slowly, I look over my shoulder.

The world slows for a moment.

Four ‘freaking’ gorgeous young men—tall, buff, in designer varsity jackets, leather, jeans, sneakers, boots—walk past like untouchable gods gracing the lands of mere mortals.

I know athletes when I see ‘em. 

Ladies ogle. But one by one, they meet my gaze. The first flashes a pearly smirk. The second shifts his eyes from my butt and meets my eyes with a toe-curling wink before walking by. The third one just glances, then stares at Beatrice and Diana, and is on his way.

The fourth…

He seems to pass in slow motion, glossy brown hair dangling over his face, and icy blue eyes that trap the air in my lungs. His jaw is sharp and carved to excellence. He blinks, dropping his eyes to my top before pursing his lips. His features morph into amusement. Warmth buds in my stomach. I quickly avert my gaze to catch my breath.

“That’s your d***!” Beatrice declares immediately, loud and clear. 

My eyes widen in shock. I whip around, hoping they didn’t hear. Thankfully, the music is awfully loud, and they’re making their way to the bar already.

Maybe this was a crazy idea.

Pulse strumming, I rush to sit beside her, finding something sweet on the table to drown the concentrated taste of my drink. 

“Did you see the way he looked at you?” Beatrice laughs, topping her glass.

“They all looked at us.” I deflect even as my eyes flick up to see if they’re still staring. They’re not. They’re all my type of men. All of them. It can be any one of them, or none at all. Maybe I just need to keep searching.

A phone lights up on the table. My eyes drop to it to see that it’s mine. My older sister is calling.

Mary, not tonight, please. Not tonight.

I stare at it until it stops ringing. Seconds later, the screen lights up again as a text comes in. I snatch it up from the table, catching the message before the screen goes off.

Mom: {Where are you? When are you coming home?}

I quickly type a response: {Busy at work. Sleeping over at Bea’s. I luv u.}

Then I lock my phone, ready to keep it sealed in my purse for the rest of the night. Just before I toss it into my purse, it vibrates again. But the DJ has just changed the song. 

2 On by Tinashe blasts ear-splittingly out of the speakers.

Already shaking, my eyes pop out of their sockets as I meet Beatrice’s widened gaze. This is one of my jams. She knows. The club erupts in a deafening roar.

“Anne-Marieeeeeee!!!!!” Diana echoes my name like a prayer, flying off the sofa as her pleasure-buddy finishes his service. 

The music drowns everything.

I drop my phone in my purse and seal it shut, adrenaline pumping raw in my veins. I slowly rise, exhaling and laughing with my girls. My eyes shift to the packed dance floor; my head whirs, wishing it were the ice rink, which I love so much, where I’d be figure skating, spinning, and dancing freely with the wind. I hurt my ligament before I took my gap year, so I haven’t even skated in over two years.

“Go, Marie! Go, Marie! Go, Marie!” Both of them begin chanting, clapping, and puffing their shoulders in sync with the beats.

Well… this dance floor’s gonna have to contain me.

My shoulders start to rise, shift, sway. I snap my fingers above my head and turn, my long curly ginger hair bouncing. 

“Let’s go!!!” Beatrice springs up, clapping in my face. She starts to wriggle her chest, snapping her fingers, too. 

A giggle bursts out of me. I lean over the table, grab a bottle, and pour alcohol down my throat. I’m getting so wasted, they’d have to drag my body out of this club. Or maybe out of a man’s bed. 

I use the back of my palm to dab my mouth, then I drop the bottle. But as I lift my eyes, sharp blue eyes capture my entire soul with a grip so electrifying, setting my body ablaze.

Slowly, I start to sway my hips, keeping my eyes glued to his.

Oh, to be on skates. I’d have done a spin right into his heart. But these freaking expensive Louboutins would have to do. My fingers slide into my hair, pushing it up as I go down in a slow squat. From across our booth, he moves his glass of whiskey to his lips, sipping without shifting those dangerous icy eyes even an inch.

Diana grabs my hands, dragging me out of the booth. We wriggle to the dance floor, joining the sweaty bodies and colliding fragrances.

Big boy, you’re going to have to come for me.

My head swims as the alcohol sinks into my system, taking over. Head turning from left to right, I slide my heels against the floor, faking a slow skate, while body-rolling with Diana, fully aware that his eyes are still on me.

Diana starts to go down, twerking, eyes on me. And she mouths, “He’s staring hard.”

I nod.

And soon, I go down with her. Same moves, but much slower.

Diana takes my hand as we sync in movements, then she winks at me—a sign that I’ve shot and hit my target. She backs away slowly, holding my fingertips until her fingers slip off, and she shifts into the crowd. My eyes stay on her.

Now alone, I ruffle my hair, while pumping my chest, and rolling my hips. I mouth the lyrics of the song, counting down in my head till he gets to me.

“I love to get 2 on…”

A heat so overwhelming cocoons me suddenly. My pulse kicks hard. I drag in a deep breath, shutting my eyes as his right arm bands around my waist from behind, fingers brushing my exposed skin. Citrus, cedar, sandalwood, mixed with winter air, fill my senses. Without warning, he shifts close, pressing me against his hard chest.

Nervous, my chest swells, yet I don’t stop moving to the beat, brushing my butt against him—denim against denim. His cold lips find my right ear, and I dissolve into his chest.

“You called…” His deep voice hits me right, sending the fire in my stomach low. “I’m right here, Ma’am.”