The humid New Orleans air clung to my skin as I slipped into the underground jazz club, the kind of place you only find when someone whispers directions against your ear in the dark. The bass thrummed through the floorboards, vibrating up my legs as I pushed through the crowd. I wasn’t here for the music.
I was here for him.
Lucas Carter leaned against the mahogany bar, all broad shoulders and dangerous charm, his tailored suit jacket slung over one shoulder. The dim amber lights caught the gold in his whiskey glass—and the predatory gleam in his hazel eyes when they locked onto me.
“Took you long enough,” he murmured as I slid onto the stool beside him. His fingers brushed my bare knee beneath my dress, sending electric sparks up my thigh.
I sipped the drink he’d already ordered for me—smoky, bitter, perfect, just like him. “I had to decide if this was a mistake.”
His thumb traced slow circles on my skin. “And?”
I turned to face him, our lips inches apart. “I love mistakes.”
Something dark and hungry flashed in his gaze. Before I could blink, his hand fisted in my hair, tilting my head back. The crowd, the music—everything faded as his mouth crashed against mine.
This wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim.
His tongue swept in, tasting me like I was his last damn drink on earth, and I melted into it, nails digging into his biceps. He groaned against my lips, the sound vibrating straight through me. When he finally pulled back, my lipstick was smeared across his mouth.
Mine, that look said.
“Upstairs. Now,” he growled.
I’d never obeyed a command so fast.
The private lounge was all leather and shadows, the city lights bleeding through half-drawn blinds. Lucas kicked the door shut and pinned me against it, his hands roaming my body like he was memorizing every curve.
“That dress has been driving me insane all night,” he muttered, fingers skimming the slit up my thigh. “You knew what you were doing.”
I arched into his touch. “Maybe I wanted to watch you lose control.”
A low laugh rumbled in his chest as he spun me around, pressing my front against the cool glass of the window. His breath was hot on my neck as his hands slid around my waist, slipping beneath the fabric—
Then the door burst open.
“Carter!“
Lucas snarled, shielding me with his body as three armed men stormed in.
So much for our private evening.
But the way his grip tightened on my hip?
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.
(Want me to continue? I can make it steamier… or deadlier. Your call.) 😉