PROLOGUE
Three Weeks Ago…
Jolt
The neon lights of Vegas blur into a kaleidoscope as I stroll down the Strip, hands shoved in my pockets.
Another night, another bar. The steady thrum of my boots on concrete matches the pulsing bass spilling out of every club I pass.
I'd kill for some company right about now, but all the other prospects in the club are tied down these days.
I pause outside a dingy-looking joint, eyeing the faded sign.
It’s not like a lot of the other bars around the city.
It gives me more alternative and rocker vibes than anything else.
Hell, it’s good enough.
As I push through the door, the smell of stale beer and desperation hits me like a freight train.
Perfect.
I’m certain there’s going to be plenty of women to fuck around with tonight.
The bar is dimly lit, a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air.
I push through the crowded bar, the bass thumping in my chest as I make my way to the counter.
The bartender, a tattooed guy with gauged ears, nods at me as I approach.
I tap my fingers on the sticky bar top. "Jameson. Neat."
He slides the amber liquid my way, and I down it in one smooth motion.
The whiskey burns a path down my throat, settling warm in my gut.
I signal for another, knowing damn well I'm going to get what I want here tonight.
As I wait for my second shot, I scan the room.
The place is packed with college kids and twenty-somethings, all looking for a good time—just like me.
My eyes linger on a brunette in a tight red dress, but I quickly look away.
No need to make my intentions too obvious just yet.
I'm hyper-aware of the fact that I'm not wearing my cut tonight.
It's a deliberate choice I always make when I hit the bars solo.
The last thing I want is some chick throwing herself at me just because I ride.
That shit's raunchy as hell, and I've got no problem getting girls any other time.
"Fuckin' patch bunnies," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.
If I wanted that kind of attention, I would've stuck to the clubhouse.
But tonight, I'm after something different.
Something based on raw chemistry, even if it's just for a few hours.
The bartender slides me another shot, and I knock it back, relishing the burn.
As I set the glass down, a flash of blonde catches my eye.
For a split second, my heart stutters.
But no, it's not her.
Just another college girl looking for a thrill.
I run a hand through my hair, pushing away thoughts of the past.
Tonight isn't about old ghosts or about my complicated history.
It's about living in the moment, finding a warm body to lose myself in for a while.
"What, you forget to order me one?" she asks, her Scottish accent as unexpected as it is intriguing.
I turn to find an ashy blonde with red roots, who has the brightest emerald green eyes giving me a once-over.
I pause, shot glass halfway to my lips, and take a moment to really look at her.
There's something oddly familiar about her face, the tilt of her chin, the arch of her brow.
But I shake it off.
There’s no way I'd forget a woman like this.
"My mistake," I say, lowering my glass. "Let me fix that real quick." I catch the bartender's eye. "Three more shots of Jameson, please."
The woman's eyebrow arches higher, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Three? Getting a little ahead of ourselves, are we?"
I can't help but chuckle at her sass.
It's refreshing, especially in a place like this where most women are falling over themselves to impress. "Just being prepared," I tell her with a wink. "Never know how the night might go."
As the bartender lines up our shots, I find myself studying her again.
That nagging sense of familiarity is still there, but I push it aside.
It doesn't matter who she reminds me of.
What matters is the here and now, and right now, I'm intrigued.
"So," I say, picking up one of the shots. "You always hit on strangers at bars, or am I just lucky?"
She laughs, a rich, throaty sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teases, reaching for her own shot.
As we clink glasses, I can't help but think this night just got a whole lot more interesting.
This woman's got fire, and I'm all for it. "Darlin', I'm sure you'll be standing here to have another shot with me before the night's over."
She throws her head back, laughing.
The sound is like music, rich and intoxicating. "Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?"
Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she downs her shot.
"You have no idea," I reply, matching her move and feeling the burn of whiskey slide down my throat.
It's a familiar sensation, but nothing compared to the heat building between us.
She leans in closer, her breath warm against my ear. "So, does this cocky bastard have a name?"
I turn to face her, our noses almost touching.
"Jack," I say, drinking in the scent of her perfume. "And what about you, mystery woman?"
Her emerald eyes lock onto mine, intense and unblinking. "You can call me 'A'," she says, her voice low and husky.
Curiosity piques inside me.
"A?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly common. What's the story there?"
She picks up the last shot, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. "Because, Jack," she says, emphasizing my name, "after tonight, I'll be nothing but a ghost in your mind."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my groin.
This is exactly the kind of woman I've been looking for—no strings, no complications, just pure, unadulterated fun.
I lean against the bar, trying to appear casual despite the electricity crackling between us.
"So, 'A', what brings you to this fine establishment on a night like tonight?"
She laughs, a sound that's both melodic and slightly mocking. "Oh, you know, just looking for a bit of trouble. And you?"
"Same," I say with a smirk. "Seems like we might have similar goals."
We fall into easy conversation, dancing around topics without ever delving too deep.
She's good at this game, revealing just enough to keep me intrigued but never anything substantial.
I find myself leaning in, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
"You from around here?" I ask, genuinely curious about her accent.
"Oh, here and there," she says with a wave of her hand. "What about you, Jack? You seem like a local boy."
I shrug, not wanting to give too much away either. "I get by. Know the city well enough."
She nods, her eyes scanning the bar. "It's quite a place, isn't it? All these lost souls looking for a connection."
I'm about to respond when I notice her attention shift.
She's no longer looking at me, but past me, toward the exit.
Before I can process what's happening, she's slipping off her barstool.
"Well, Jack, it's been a pleasure," she says, already moving away.
I blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Wait, where are you going?"
She's already halfway to the door when I catch up to her.
"Hey," I say, grabbing her arm gently. "Where the hell are you going? Why'd you tease me like that all night?"
A laugh bubbles up from her throat, rich and mocking. "Well, you didn't bloody do anything about it, did you?" she says, her accent thickening with her amusement. She gestures down her body, a clear invitation. "So I'm goin’ to find someone else who wants to enjoy this."
I stand here, stunned, as she turns away again.
My mind races, torn between my pride and the raw desire she's stoked in me all night.
I've never been one to beg, but something about this woman has me off-balance in the best possible way.
"Wait!" I call out, and before I can second-guess myself, I’m right behind her as she walks out on the street.
I don’t let her get too far and drag her into an alleyway.
The dim light from the streetlights barely illuminates the narrow passageway, but it's enough to see the surprise in her eyes.
I growl, pressing her against the rough brick wall. "Is this what you want?"
Her breath hitches, pupils dilating. "Took you long enough."
I crash my lips to hers, swallowing her gasp.
The kiss is fierce, all teeth and tongue and pent-up desire.
My hands roam her body, hiking up her skirt as she fumbles with my belt.
"Such a tease," I mutter against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.
A lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a moan as I slide my fingers between her legs. "Fuck," she hisses. "Less talking, more action."
Her body stiffens, but only for a moment, before she's melting into me, her hips pressing against mine.
Her hands tangle in my hair as she tips her head back, yielding to the kiss.
"God, I've wanted this all night," I groan against her lips before shoving my cock inside her.
Her moan is muffled by the hand I've placed over her mouth, but her body speaks volumes, arching into me, nails digging into my back.
She's wet, so damn wet, and the contrast of her soaked pussy against my aching, throbbing dick is almost more than I can take.
My hips move in a primal rhythm, thrusting into her with a need that's been building all night.
The cool air of the alleyway brushes against our overheated skin, heightening every sensation.
"You like that, don't you, sweetheart?" I growl in her ear, punctuating each word with a deep thrust, my cock hitting her cervix.
Her muffled cries of pleasure drive me wild, and I know I want to last as long as I can.
She feels too damn good for me to bust a nut too early.
"You're so fucking tight, but I bet you want it rougher, don't you? You like it when Daddy's cock is buried deep inside, don’t you?"
Her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving marks I'll feel for days.
"Harder," she demands, voice rough with desire.
I oblige, pounding into her with everything I've got.
The brick scrapes against my knuckles, but I barely notice the sting.
All I can focus on is the building pressure, the slick slide of skin on skin.
A's breath comes in sharp pants, each exhale a soft cry of pleasure.
I can feel her tightening around me, urging for me to explode inside her, but I won’t.
At least, not yet.
I twist her nipples, hard. "You want me to stop? Tell me what you fuckin’ want, girl."
Her response is a whimper, a plea caught between the pleasure and delicious pain.
I smirk against her skin, nipping at the delicate line of her neck.
"Mmm, I knew you wanted more of this," I tease, pulling back until just my tip remains inside her, before slamming back into her.
The force of it has her whimpering again, her body jerking against mine in surprise.
The sight of her body cramped up against this brick wall—open, vulnerable, completely at my mercy—is intoxicating.
It’s like the sweetest poison that seeps into my veins and takes control of me.
I grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh as I set a punishing rhythm.
The sounds she makes are heavenly—half moans, half sobs.
Each one turns me on more than the last.
I can feel her getting closer to the edge, her body tightening around me in delicious waves.
"Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?" I ask through gritted teeth.
The sensation of holding myself back from release is excruciating but equally thrilling.
Her answer is a choked moan, a surrendering nod.
"That's it...you're so fuckin’ good," I pant out as I thrust into her harder and faster.
The friction between us becomes an almost unbearable heat that threatens to consume us.
Suddenly, she’s about to scream out in pleasure.
I slap my hand back over her mouth, muffling her cries.
Her body convulses around mine as she reaches climax.
Her high triggers my own and I bury myself deep inside her as release crashes over me in powerful waves.
Shaking with the aftermath of our climax, we stay connected for a while longer; my cock softening inside her as we catch our breaths.
Eventually, I pull out slowly and fix her disheveled clothes before doing up my own.
Before we part ways, I pull her against me for a last lingering kiss.
The taste of her on my lips is a promise of many more nights like this to come.
"Until next time, sweetheart," I whisper into the quiet night, leaving her with a softly echoing promise that hangs in the cooling air of the alleyway.
"In your dreams, Jack. I’m a ghost, remember?”
Just like that, she walks off.
But will she remain a ghost?