Chapter 2: Good Girls Don’t Do This

⋅ ⋅ ❦ Blaire Rose ❦ ⋅ ⋅

A few hours later, I found myself standing at the entrance of the hotel bar. I took a deep breath and shrugged off my coat, revealing the black lace dress. It was short—dangerously short—clinging to my thighs and leaving my skin exposed to the cool air.

At first, I felt cold, numb, and like a total stranger to myself. I was used to high-necked blouses, pearls, and the heavy weight of reputation on my shoulders. I was used to being the girl who never spoke out of turn and always stayed in the shadows.

But I had to do this. For the first time in twenty years, I was doing something for myself.

If my virtue was the only thing anyone valued, I was going to make sure none of them ever got to touch it. I wouldn’t keep it a second longer.

I handed my coat to the attendant and walked toward the bar. A dozen pairs of eyes were on me—some curious, most hungry—but I ignored them. I forced my chin up, projecting a confidence I didn’t truly possess. My heart was a drum in my chest, but my stride was steady.

By my third shot of tequila, the room was spinning in a soft, golden blur. I flipped my hair out of my eyes, and that’s when I saw him.

He was sitting in a far corner booth, partially veiled by shadows, but his presence pressed against my lungs, each breath coming thinner the longer I looked at him. He was older—a mature, seasoned power radiating from his broad shoulders.

He had thick black hair and dark, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through the darkness. And his lips… they were firm, masculine, and utterly devastating.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you, Blair?’ I thought. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But then his eyes finally met mine. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and just like the moth, I knew I might get burned—but I didn’t care. Let him burn me; let him burn the rest of the world with me.

​I stood up, my empty glass in hand, and headed toward him. My legs turned to jelly, and I stumbled slightly as the alcohol finally caught up with me.

“Can you buy me a drink?” I asked, my voice bolder than I expected. I set my empty glass on his table. The old Blair Rose was officially dead.

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, studying me like I was something he hadn’t decided to keep—or discard

“Because you’re the most handsome man here.” I tried to smile, but my knees gave out, and I fell forward.

His hands were lightning-fast, catching me by the waist and pulling me against him. He was solid as a rock, and his scent hit me—expensive cedarwood and dark spice, with a hint of woodsmoke. It was the scent of a man used to being obeyed without question.

A slow, amused smirk tugged at his mouth, a sharp contrast to my trembling lips.

“And why should I choose you, little girl?” he asked, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to make me gasp.

“Because I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered truthfully. I looked up at him through my lashes, my lips popping out in a way I’d never dared before. The tequila was making me brave—recklessly brave.

He exhaled a quiet, knowing laugh. I reached out, my fingers tracing the hard, unyielding muscle of his chest through his black shirt.

He was so much stronger than Nolan.

“I can tell you’re looking for company,” he warned, his eyes darkening to a feral shade. “But I’m not someone you should mess with. Go find someone your own age before you get hurt. I am a danger you don’t want to get close to.”

I leaned in even closer, until our lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “I don’t want someone my age,” I whispered against his mouth. “I want you. I’ll even pay.”

That slow, tempting smile returned. “It’s the first time a woman has offered me money,” he mused.

I hovered a breath away from him, my lips tingling with anticipation, every nerve in my body screaming for the moment they would finally collide—it was unbearably tempting, like standing at the edge of a fall I wanted to take.

“There’s a first time for everything… Mr. Handsome, Hot, Powerful Stranger,” I murmured, tapping a finger against his heart.

He stood up abruptly, gripping my waist and pulling me to my feet. He towered over me, a dark silhouette of pure dominance. “If you’re sure about this, follow me. If you’re not… walk away right now, and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

He turned and began walking toward the elevators. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed his unfinished drink from the table and downed it, the liquid fire searing my throat.

The image of Nolan’s mocking face flashed in my mind, but I pushed it away. I didn’t look back. I followed him into the elevator, the metal doors sliding shut on the girl I used to be. I was nervous, but I was determined to see this through to the end.

━━━ ❦ ━━━

As soon as we walked into his suite, the heavy click of the lock echoed in the silence. He turned to me, his eyes dark with a hunger that made my knees weak. He didn’t waste time with sweet words.

“Take it off,” he said quietly—not raised, not forceful, just certain I would.

My body moved before my brain could protest. I reached for the zipper of the black lace dress, letting it slide down my body until it pooled at my feet. I stood before this stranger in nothing but my bra and panties. It was the first time I had ever stood before a man like this. Even with Nolan, I had always been covered, always pure. But with this man, I felt a strange, wild freedom in my exposure.

“Kneel,” he said, his gaze raking over my skin.

“What?” I breathed, my heart thumping hard.

“Go down on your knees,” he repeated, his tone commanding.

I hesitated for half a heartbeat, then lowered myself to the floor, choosing it, my gaze locked on his. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once—a complete surrender to a man I didn’t even know. For the first time, I wasn’t doing what was expected of me. I was doing exactly what I wanted.

“Come to me,” he murmured.

I moved toward him slowly, aware of every inch, letting him watch me come closer, the plush carpet soft against my skin. When I reached him, he looked down at me like a king looking at a subject he intended to conquer.

“Take off my trousers.”

With every command he gave, I chose not to resist. I knew there would be consequences—and stepped into them anyway. I didn’t care about being the good girl. I reached for his belt, my fingers trembling as I worked the buckle. I peeled the fabric away, but as I reached for his boxers, his hand suddenly clamped around my wrist.

He pulled me up to my feet with effortless strength. His shirt was already gone, discarded somewhere in the dim corners of the room. As I stood flush against his heated skin, my eyes trailed over the hard planes of his chest—and then I saw it.

Inked darkly into his skin was the symbol of the Trifang Pack: a wolf with three ears, its jaws open in a silent howl. It was a mark of high status, of ancient blood.

Is he from the pack? The thought flickered through my mind. Who is this man?

But the tequila and the adrenaline drowned out the warning bells. I should have cared who he was—but the way my body leaned into him told me I wasn’t going to stop.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

My breath hitched at his touch, but instead of pulling away, I leaned into his hand. Tilting my head, I looked up at him through heavy lids, a provocative smirk playing on my lips. Bringing my face closer until our lips were inches apart, I whispered, “Are you not?”

“Damn. Fuck it. You’re right,” he growled.

Before I could blink, he hoisted me up. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the hard heat of his body against mine. He carried me to the bed and laid me back against the pillows. His hands were everywhere, tracing paths of fire across my skin as he stripped away my lace panties. He leaned down, trailing hot kisses from my stomach upward until he was hovering over me.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. His hand hovered between my thighs, his knuckles grazing the sensitive warmth he had created.

I cupped his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath my palms. The image of Nolan’s mocking face flashed in my mind one last time—the man who thought I was a boring chore.

I nodded, my eyes fixed on him above me. “I’m sure.”

I was ready. I was done being a bargaining chip. I wanted this man to take the one thing everyone else thought they owned.

If tearing myself apart was the only way out of the life they built for me, then I would be the one to choose it.