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I can’t look away.

I don’t want to.

And he knows it too, because his lips curve slightly. A smirk? A challenge? A promise? I have no clue which, but awareness slams through me and something ancient roars in my chest.

It’s him?

He’s the one.

My stomach flips.

Oh Goddess.

My thighs press together.

It barely even registers that he’s moving toward me in slow, deliberate steps.

And by the time it does, he is already in front of me, so close I can feel his warmth.

He leans in.

I close my eyes, lips parting slightly, hoping for a kiss.

Instead, a deep voice rumbles near my ear.

"Her drinks are on me."

My eyes snap open.

Humiliation creeps up my neck when I realize he wasn’t leaning in to kiss me but handing the bartender his credit card.

I stiffen. “I don’t need you t-to pay for my drinks. I can handle myself.”

His strong arms cage me in, palms flat against the bar, his chest just inches from mine. His scent—woodsmoke, cedar and something wilder—fills my lungs, sinks into my skin and brands me from the inside out.

"You’ve had enough to drink, wild one." His voice is smooth, yet dangerously firm. "It’s time to go home."

Home? The same home I left Julian at because he was fucking a woman? That home?

I shake my head, my voice raw. “I can’t. He—he betrayed me. I was just a game to him.”

“Then he’s a fool.” His voice is thick with a possessiveness that both thrills and terrifies me.

And it takes me exactly one second to make a reckless decision.

I press my hands against his chest and with a desperate gaze, I whisper, “Make me forget. Please.”

His breath hitches.

Then, something shifts in his gaze, something dark, something dangerous.

“Be careful what you ask for, wild one.”

And before I can second-guess myself and take up his offer of going home, his lips crash onto mine.

This is a bad idea.

But I don't think that when he buckles me into his truck and drives me to his penthouse.