Page 15 of My So-Called Perfect Life

Come to think of it, I don’t recall Scott ever making me scream. Or even moan loudly.

Ugh! This needs to stop.Why can I not stop thinking about sex with this man? It’s only been a day since I found out my fiancé, who I’d been with for six years, betrayed me, and now, my mind is stuck on this guy and the weird effect he’s having on me.

It has to be the alcohol. Three shots in rapid succession, followed by a Jack and ginger, might not have been my best choice of action, but how was I supposed to know this tall, dark, and handsome man of mystery was going to walk into my path?

Ugh, Danielle. Revenge sex can be with anyone. It doesn’t have to be with him.

But it would probably be the best with this man.

The muscles in his forearms are perfectly defined under his tanned, tattooed skin. His T-shirt clings to his body as if it was custom-made for his broad shoulders and chest. The bar rag casually thrown over his shoulder just adds to the vibe that screams he’s more than a good time.

He’d probably chew me up and spit me right out.

But I bet it would be worth it.

A deep laugh booms from his chest, pulling me from my wayward thoughts of good times and being scraped up off the ground like roadkill afterward.

“Maybe youarecut out for revenge sex after all.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on his words and not his hot body. “Huh?”

He chuckles. “There’s a chance you could pull off revenge sex after all. I should probably feel objectified with the way you’re staring at me like a drink of water on the hottest day of the year.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” I hitch my shoulder. “Plenty of fish in the city. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find someone and test that theory.”

His eyes darken, and his fingers flex on the bar. “You’re not going out into the city to find someone to revenge fuck, sweetheart.”

The way the word “fuck” rolls off his tongue with a whisper of promise has parts of my body fired up that shouldn’t be.

Men are assholes, Danielle. Don’t forget what happened yesterday just because this tall drink of water is giving you the slightest bit of attention. He wouldn’t even remember your name tomorrow. Hell, he doesn’t even know your name now.

I don’t even think I was ever really serious about the revenge-sex thing. Now, it’s the only thing on my mind.

“Why? You offering?”

His eyes never leave mine as his jaw clenches. “Drunk women aren’t my thing, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave here to go troll for cock while you’re not in the best frame of mind.”

“That’s cute.” I snicker. All his cockiness regarding what I can and can’t do or who I am and who I’m not annoys me. I open my bag and dig out my debit card. “Except I’m not drunk. And you don’t get to tell me what to do when I walk out that door. I can jump into bed with the first man I see on the sidewalk, and there’s nothing you can say about it. There’s nothing anyone can say about it. I’m a free woman.”

His whole alpha-attitude thing pisses me off. I can do whatever the hell I want. Scott does. Mandy does. So, I can, too, damn it.

I slap my card down on the bar and glare back, meeting his stare that hasn’t left me. “I can go get my revenge with a dozen different men—at the same time if I want—and there’s no one who can stop me. Actually, that sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had. Sample everything the city has to offer.”

He growls—literally growls at me—as he looks down at my card and slides it back to me. “I sure as hell can say a damn thing, Danielle. I can object to you finding some chump to help you get back at your fiancé when no one out there can make you feel like I can. But I won’t touch you while you’re drunk. So, if you want to scream because ofmyfingers,mytongue, andmycock, I suggest you finish that water by the time I’m done back here.”

Hmm, so now he does know my name.The sound of it on his lips sends a shiver down my back. My nipples harden under the lace of my bralette. His words ignite every emotion inside me into one … desire.

I want this sexy barman.

I want his fingers.

His tongue.

His cock.

I’m supposed to be at home. With my husband.

But I don’t have a husband.