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“I thought you wanted to leave.”

“You want to have fun. I’ll give you that, but you’re going home with me afterward.”

“You said you wouldn’t do anything to me while I’m drunk.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t fuck you drunk. But you want to have fun, and it won’t be with anyone but me. Then I’m taking you home with me.”

I should tell him to go to hell for all this arrogance, considering how he acted like a jerk the last time we were together at his grandmother’s house, but he’s taken a step toward making up for it by coming here after me. So I decide to cut him some slack too.

“I’m going home tomorrow morning,” I say as he starts walking with me, his hand resting just above my butt to guide me—probably toward the VIP lounge he mentioned.

“We’ll see.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“I’m not a kid, and I don’t like games. You can tell me what you want right now.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll stick to the plan: you’ll have your fun tonight, and then I’ll have my driver take you home.”

“You’ll stop hunting me?”

“Not until I get what I want.”

“My body.”

“You.”

I know I have to make a decision. For a few seconds, I weigh both options.

I’m twenty-three, with little experience. Maybe someday I’ll meet the love of my life—or maybe not. I don’t want to look back and forever regret missing my chance to be with the only man who’s ever made me feel like this.

Still, I have to keep my guard up so I don’t fall too fast.

A crush? Okay. But love?

No, that’s out of the question.

William

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As I walktoward the lounge with my hand firmly gripping her hip, I’d swear I can feel her skin quivering beneath that flimsy, very short, red dress.

Taylor would be a treat even wearing a garbage bag, but dressed up like she is tonight—or the way she was at the opera house—she becomes sinfully tempting. She stops being a girl and shows herself as the sensual, irresistible woman she truly is.

I’m not a fan of nightclubs anymore; I’ve outgrown them. But to hell with it—I’m going to give her what she wants. Besides, I’m curious to see how Taylor behaves in a place packed with people much closer to her age than mine.

As we walk, I notice several guys turning around to watch her.

I know why. It’s obvious she doesn’t often come here; she wouldn’t have the means for it. And they, like me, are predators on the lookout for unfamiliar prey. When you go out enough, you end up seeing the same faces everywhere. There isn’t much variety in high society; Manhattan isn’t that big.

“Why did you pick this place?” I ask once we finally reach the lounge.

I guide her to a tall table set apart from the rest of the crowd, though this area is only accessible to the elite of the elite. The club belongs to a friend of mine, and on the rare occasions I come, I never mingle on the main floor.

The music here isn’t as loud, though there’s a small private dance area for anyone who isn’t just looking for a hookup and actually wants to have fun, too.