Page 3 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)
But I gather the reason people are paying top dollar for a membership is the entertainment—high-pitched moans ring out, and the slap of skin draws my attention to the stage in the center of the room.
On a circular dais is a group of four people—two men and two women—twisted together like a pretzel.
One man thrusts into a woman from behind, who works her mouth on the other man, while the second woman thrusts into the man from behind.
Even from the short distance where I stand, I can tell her strap-on is girthy and an incredible length.
The man groans, echoing around the room and drawing more than one eye toward the stage.
Already, a small crowd gathers to watch, and a woman whispers into another patron’s ear.
He nods, and she drags him by his belt to a door off to the left.
The door opens, and I catch a glimpse of a lengthy hallway lined with doors.
Each appears to have a strip light of either red or green tracing the frame, and just as the door shuts, I watch as she picks a green door.
As soon as she opens it, the light turns red.
Moans harmonize with each other, and a flush creeps over my chest and neck.
A low heat gathers in my belly, but goosebumps break out over my exposed flesh as my sweat cools against the chilly air.
The silk dress I picked out earlier is tasteful but offers little to the imagination or in the way of warmth.
“Care to warm up by the fire?” a charming voice says from behind me.
I twist around, and my eyes feast on a gorgeous sight. A young sight—and not the sight I’m looking for—but gorgeous and one step closer to me going home.
A few different plays run through my mind. I could either approach the man I’m looking for directly, or I could draw him to me. The latter feels petty, but I just can’t help myself.
The stranger in front of me stands tall, a flirty sparkle behind his eyes. His dark hair is buzzed close to his head, and his brown eyes crinkle as he scans my body. By his youthful look, he must be in his early twenties. And fortunately for me, the perfect patsy .
“I don’t know,” I drawl, turning back toward the room. “I haven’t decided if I’m staying.”
“Don’t leave yet; you just got here.” He moves to stand in front of me, and I take the chance to look him over.
His clothes fit perfectly—I’d expect nothing less from someone in this lounge—but he’s unfastened the top button of his dress shirt and rolled the sleeves to his forearms. A swirl of a black tattoo peeks out from behind the crisp white material on his neck.
He smirks, as if all too aware I’m sizing him up.
“What are you going to do?” I close the distance and walk my fingers up his chest, laying my palm over his shoulder. “Throw me over your shoulder and drag me back to your cave?” My attention flicks to his lips before returning to his brown eyes.
He chuckles. We’re inches apart, and I can practically hear the quickening of his heartbeat. His eyes dip to my mouth, and his smirk morphs into a smile. “If that’s what you’d like.”
He seems sweet, and I almost wish I didn’t have to use him like this. Almost .
“Caleb.” He steps away, but only far enough to extend a lithe hand.
I glance down, conflicted. All part of the show. I shake my head and accept. “Loren,” I respond, a flirty curl to my lips.
Caleb shakes my hand lightly, and I lean into my role—and my bait.
“How about a drink instead?” His eyes twinkle as he extends an elbow in invitation.
I slide my arm through his with a smile and allow him to lead us toward the closest bar. There’s no wait for the upper echelon, it appears.
“Single malt scotch and a…” Caleb trails off as he looks over at me. “You look like a merlot kind of lady, am I right? ”
A permanent, sultry smile freezes my face, and I don’t dare let it slip. I don’t mind red wine—I can drink almost anything with a straight face now—but it’s not my preference. I nod.
“I knew it.” Caleb’s words are proud, as if he was some grand profiler.
The bartender pours our drinks swiftly, and Caleb accepts them without a word. He passes mine over, then leads me toward an empty crimson settee right by the glass fireplace with a hand on the small of my back. The marble on the vent matches the flooring, and the heat is welcome.
Caleb unbuttons his jacket. He sits mostly in the center with his legs sprawled out, one arm thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. He takes a sip from his whiskey and hisses through his teeth.
“Are you sure you aren’t missing curfew?” I tease, settling next to him. “Let me see your permission slip.” The crushed velvet cushion is soft against my bare thighs, and the fire crackles over the low music. I cross one leg over the other and drape my body toward my unwitting opponent.
Caleb chuckles low, but it doesn’t cause even a flutter. “It’s difficult to maintain any sense of composure when faced with the full weight of your undivided attention.”
I smile coyly and flutter my lashes over the brim of my glass. The silence stretches. I take a sip of my wine, letting it simmer even more. The merlot is lush, with notes of cinnamon and berry, going down easily and warming what the fire can’t reach.
“Darling, you wouldn’t survive the weight of my undivided attention,” I say.
His eyes widen in apparent challenge. He slides closer, reaching for me. His fingers just barely trace the bare skin of my shoulder. “I’m up for a challenge. ”
My response is low, almost a whisper. “Am I a challenge now?”
Caleb chuckles. “Of course not,” he drawls, one finger trailing from the slope of my neck to the curve of my jaw. “You’re the prize.”
Caleb is objectively handsome, that’s without question. Warm complexion, clean-shaven, angular jaw, straight nose, brown eyes framed with full dark lashes…It distracts me for a moment. But only that—a moment. His eyes never leave mine as he leans close enough to share breath.
“But the question is”—his tongue flicks out to wet his lips—“how can I win you?”
With each breath, he leans closer until our lips are almost touching. If I don’t stop him, he’s going to kiss me. And I don’t want him to kiss me…right?
I pull back with a sultry smile. “Perhaps you’ll find out.”
His eyes shine with obvious excitement.
“ Later .”
Caleb laughs, relaxing back into the couch, nodding in concession and taking a healthy swig of his scotch. This time, he conceals any reaction.
“I usually get to know a man before I learn what he tastes like.”
“Ryan, twenty-three, business, and yes, I’m single. And your name is Loren. There. Now we know each other.” Humor dances in his voice.
I settle back, putting distance between our bodies. “Ryan? I thought you said your name was Caleb.”
“Ryan’s my middle name.”
I arch a brow. “And the rest?”
He chuckles and finishes the last of his drink in one swallow. “I just turned twenty-three. I graduated last May with a degree in business. And I think the last one’s self-explanatory. ”
My laughter is raucous, drawing the attention of those around us, as intended. “Actually, I’d like to hear about it in further detail.” I gesture toward his face and put on a teasing tone. “How is all this single?”
Caleb smiles brightly. “It doesn’t have to be.”
I still, a smile threatening to break through. He sure is determined. “I hate to break it to you, Caleb, but I think I’m too old for you.”
“No offense, sweetheart, but I think I get to decide what’s too old for me.”
I tilt my head, nodding once in concession. “Fair enough. But there’s one thing you’ll learn as you get older.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” His tone is light, and I can tell he’s not offended by my redirection.
I swirl my wineglass around. “You should get to know someone before you order for them.”
Caleb looks to my near-full glass of wine. “Every woman drinks red.” He points to the red lipstick stain on the rim. “But you don’t?” Then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I smile, but it’s weak.
A crystal tumbler with amber liquid appears in front of me. “She drinks whiskey,” a smooth voice says from above.
A voice that’s haunted me for years. A voice that swarms my every sense, invades logical reasoning, and heats my blood to a boil.
Callahan Keane.
The greatest heartbreak of my life.