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Don’t give yourself a hangover before your big day. It’s my one rule for tonight, the night before I start my new job, and I’m off to a rocky start. This martini is strong . I’m already buzzing as I step onto the dance floor, and I know I need to be careful to walk the line between letting loose and having regrets in the morning. This is too big an opportunity to waste, and I took a major chance leaving my last job. It was a good job, but this one offers way more money and way better, well, everything—benefits, title, it has it all. Really, I shouldn't have gone out at all, but sitting alone in my apartment, freaking out about tomorrow wasn’t helping the situation.

I went all out for the occasion, taking the time to do my hair and makeup, but I never intended to attract any attention. Usually, I fly pretty under the radar in that aspect. Men tend to go for the skinny girls, and well… I’m not one of them. I know I’m curvy. The outfit I’m wearing tonight embraces that—a low-cut top, tight-fitting jeans, and strappy heels. It feels nice to be looked at sometimes, even if that attention doesn’t often lead to dates.

In fact, I’ve got a little paperback tucked into my purse because I thought I’d be sitting at the bar alone, enjoying a drink in between dances. But that’s not what’s happening. Instead, I’m approached almost the minute I start dancing by not one but two guys. Something must be in the air tonight.

“What’s your name?” The man I’m dancing with leans down so I can hear him over the music, speaking close to my ear.

He smells like expensive cologne and looks like trouble. He’s tall, way taller than I am, and totally jacked. Just looking at him makes my body heat.

I shake my head and flash him a sly smile. “I won’t tell.”

It’s one thing to dance to a song or two with a man who looks like this, but giving him my name would be the first step down a slippery slope toward getting attached, so I keep it mysterious. His eyes—sea glass green, a color I’ve never seen in person—light up.

“Do you like secrets?” he asks, his huge hands skate up my back, bringing me in closer until his thigh is between my legs.

In my normal life? Not really, I like to know what’s coming. I like a plan. It’s part of what makes me so good at my job. But in this moment, grinding on a man that looks like he just stepped out of GQ? Yeah, I’m okay with secrets if he wants me to be.

I nod, unable to speak as the rhythm shifts and his thigh moves against me right there . The way I feel should be illegal in public, but I can’t pull myself away. He’s magnetic.

One of his hands cups the back of my head and this time, when he leans down to speak to me, his lips brush my neck, sending a jolt of lightning down to my toes. “Don’t tell anyone,” he murmurs, his deep voice rumbling, “but I’m going to take you home tonight.”

My toes curl in my heels, and for a second I forget I’m supposed to be dancing, so locked in to moving my body against his that it feels like we’re alone in the room, not in the middle of a crowd of people who could look over at any moment and see me practically riding this man right here. When he’s this close, I barely remember to care.

“Is that what you think?” I challenge, knowing that my breathy voice gives the game away. I’m flustered, and there’s no way he can’t see it. “Maybe I’ll go home with that man I was dancing with right before you.”

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, his gaze so intense it makes me shiver.

“You’re never going to think of that man again. Not after tonight.”

So possessive. I should’ve run away right then, but some part of me liked it—liked the steel of his eyes and the way his fingertips dug into me as he spun me around by the waist so my ass was pressed against him now. He’s hard. Hard for me. That thought drives me wild. I can feel the thick length of him every time I swivel my hips, and the heat between my legs is reaching a boiling point.

“What about those girls at your booth?” I throw back at him. “They look like they’d all be happy to go home with you tonight.”

He laughs, a deliciously dark sound. “I could find women like that anywhere, any night.”

It might have sounded like egotistical bragging coming from another man, and to be honest, it still is, but it remains an undeniable truth. This man has the looks to attract any woman in the room, and here he is, dancing with me . His hands are on me .

“But they’re not what you want?” I ask, pulling my hair over one shoulder and arching back to look at him.

He shakes his head, and one of his hands glides up my body to cradle my neck, his soft fingertips caressing the delicate skin there. Goosebumps race along my bare arms, and it has nothing to do with the room's temperature. His hands are so big they could engulf my entire neck, yet I feel completely safe. Completely desired. His thumb moves upward, achingly slow, and brushes against my bottom lip.

“They’re not what I want,” he agrees.

I can't stop myself from flicking my tongue out to graze his thumb, and he rewards me with a huff of surprise. I like having such an effect on this man, knowing that I might almost be driving him as crazy as he’s driving me. We’re moving as one, and I feel like I could dance forever in his arms; the buzz from my martini has nothing on the way he makes my whole body hum.

“What is it you want?” I ask.

He presses his thumb tip in past my lips, and my body responds before I can think, my lips wrapping around and sucking lightly on it. His fingers tighten on me like he’s holding back from throwing me down and taking me right there.

“I want you,” he says, voice thick. “I want every scrap of clothing off of your perfect body. I want to pin you down to my bed and spend hours tasting you. I want to hear you come undone.”

My mind officially goes blank. I’m not a virgin, but honestly, I might as well be. The last time I had sex was with my boyfriend in high school, and that was a one-time thing. When I got to college, I was so focused on my studies and getting everything done so I could graduate early that men were not even on my radar. So maybe I’m a little inexperienced when it comes to men, but even I know the stuff he’s saying is downright filthy. And it’s working.

“You really think you just get everything you want, don’t you?” Oh my God, how could he not? He looks that good and he moves like the world is his to claim. Like I’m his to claim. I feel bold even asking him that question, but it seems like he likes a challenge.

He’s in no hurry, curling around me to drag his lips along my neck, kissing me right here in the middle of the club. His mouth reaches my jawline, and I’m starting to come undone, but I know what he’s doing, using his body to take down each of my defenses. My plan for the night is unraveling faster than an old knit sweater. So much for going out for a few dances and a drink.

His teeth graze the shell of my ear, and my knees wobble as he whispers, “Yes.”

I’ve lost track of how many songs we’ve danced to by now, but sweat is beading on my skin, making my shirt cling. It’s probably late, and I really should be heading home, getting into bed, and making sure everything is in order for my first day of work tomorrow. I shouldn’t be half-climbing this guy in the club. Yet, reason seems to have fled to the furthest reaches of my mind, because I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, standing on my toes to reach his lips.

Even with the heels, it’s a ways up, and he meets me partway, capturing my lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss that grows hungrier every second it continues. I’m the one driving, my tongue darting out to explore his mouth, capturing his lip between my teeth. I may be inexperienced, but he certainly knows what he’s doing. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me as if he’ll never let me go.

I’m so wet for this man, and we’re not even naked. For a second, fear pools in my belly. If just kissing is this good, can I really walk away from him without even knowing his name? I have to. I can’t get distracted now when I just took this new job, it’s too important for my future to risk blowing on some guy I just met. There will be time for love, romance, and settling down in a decade or so, once my career is established, but there's no way I’m getting sidetracked now. It’ll just be one night. One night can’t hurt, right?

He breaks the kiss and tugs my hair, forcing my head back just a little, and his mouth finds my throat. “Come home with me,” he murmurs into my skin. “I want you.”

Those three words are like kryptonite. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he came onto this dance floor. He walked away from those three girls like they weren’t model-hot and desperate for him. I don’t know how he picked me out of the crowd here tonight, but I can’t doubt his honesty.

This is such a bad idea. Going home with a stranger at this hour of the night is going to mean only getting a few hours of sleep before work, and it’s my first day. No amount of concealer is going to cover up the under-eye circles I’m going to be left with, but his hands are gripping my ass, and suddenly I don’t care at all.

“Okay,” I gasp out. “Take me home.”

He grabs my hand, and the crowds part for him, giving us a straight shot to the exit. It seems like everyone else must know who he is, but I’m in the dark, and I like it that way. I need it to stay that way. Otherwise, he’ll become a major distraction.

“My car is out front,” he says, taking our coats from the coat check. They had them ready, as if they had seen him coming and dropped everything to get them first. A VIP for sure.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but that blacked-out, top-end SUV wasn’t it. The windows are tinted so dark that I can't see anything inside. The cold air hits me like a slap in the face and gives me a moment's pause—am I really doing this? Going home with a stranger?

One look at the black curl of a tattoo peeking out from the neckline of his shirt gets my heart beating fast again. Yes, yes, I am. He puts his hand on my lower back to guide me toward the car and opens the door for me, revealing luxury black leather seats and red contrast stitching. Swanky. They’re butter smooth as I slide in, and he climbs in after me.

The driver seems to know where we're going, confirming this is his personal car and not some taxi, and I steal a glance at this mystery man from the corner of my eye. He's watching me.

“What?" I blurt out, cheeks heating like he wasn’t just all over me.

“You're beautiful,” he says, leaning over to tuck my hair behind my ear.

I lean across the space between us and kiss him, reigniting the fire that we’d started in the club. He pulls me onto his lap, and the drive passes in a blur. By the time we're stopped, I know my hair is a mess and my blouse is crooked from his hands exploring beneath it, but he looks as pristine as ever.

If I thought the car was nice, his apartment building puts it to shame. It’s all I can do to keep my mouth closed as I take in the sheer amount of money involved in its design. I’m way out of my league here in so many ways, but he wraps his hand in mine and pulls me along to the private elevator, pressing the button that will take us up to the penthouse.

The instant the doors close, he’s got me pressed against the wall, and all thoughts of being unworthy have fled my mind because he wants me. Needs me. He’s kissing his way down my chest to the deep V of my cleavage when the elevator doors ding and open, and his growl of frustration at being interrupted is so hot. Like he can't keep his hands off me, even to walk in the door, he grabs me by the back of my thighs and lifts me with ease. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me in, straight through the marble hallway to the bedroom.

He lays me down on the bed and steps back just to stare at me. The heat in his eyes makes me squirm.

“I’m yours now,” I say, gazing at him, impatient. “Come take me.”

The man prowls toward me, and I’ve never felt so much like prey, ready to be devoured.

***

I wake with the sunrise. My body is delightfully sore and I’m wrapped in the stranger’s chiseled arms, completely entwined with his body. Thankfully, he’s sound asleep, and I’m able to extricate myself without waking him to collect my clothes from where they’ve been scattered around the room.

I find my phone, still in my purse, and order an Uber before getting dressed. If I hurry, I’ll have just enough time to get home and shower before work, but I’ll be cutting it close. Despite that, I can’t find a smidge of regret inside of me. Last night was pure bliss. I didn’t even know sex could feel like that, so mind-meltingly good, and it takes all my willpower not to write my phone number down somewhere in the hope he'll call me so we can do it all over again. I’m pretty sure that I could sleep with half the men in the city and not have another night like that.

All I can think as I tiptoe down the hall is that this new job had better be worth the sacrifice. The Uber ride back to my apartment in a much less swanky area gives me plenty of time to think, as does the shower. I scrub the scent of his cologne from my skin. My body is tender, marked with his teeth and touch in tiny bruises along my thighs, and I savor the reminders of him.

I bought a brand-new outfit for this day so it takes no time at all to get dressed after blowing out my hair into voluminous waves. The combo of a pencil skirt, stilettos, and a button-down has me feeling powerful and sexy, though maybe the latter has more to do with the man I had all over me last night.

The ride to work is long and gives me plenty of time to twist my stomach into a ball of nerves. I take a moment outside the casino just to breathe and collect myself. It’s a maze inside, but I remember my way from the interview I had with the owner, past the gambling, and up the stairs to a suite of offices. My new boss has the corner office, of course.

I knock and wait, smoothing my skirt down over my thighs. I haven’t met my new boss yet, and the nerves in my stomach flutter at the sound of his voice.

“Come in,” he calls through the door.

He’s facing away from me, looking out the impressive window behind his desk, not bothering to spin around when I walk in, like he’s too important for greetings.

“Good morning, Sir,” I say. “I’m Ella Matthews, your new assistant.”

He swivels the chair around, and my stomach drops to the floor. It's him.