Page 5 of Give In

“Nope, not me. It’s that guy.” I pointed to Dave, assuming she’d jump to the groom-to-be.

Continuing the theme of my lucky night, she didn’t.

“So, no wifey waitin’ for you?” She tilted her head to my bare ring finger.

“No,” I muttered distractedly, trying to look around her.

“Well, aren’t ussinglewomen lucky.”

My focus was locked on the curtained room as Eden opened it. Stepping out, she finished tying her shirt under chest.

I smiled up at the blonde, turning on the charm as she handed me a fresh beer that’d been sent over. “Thanks. How’s your night going?”

“Oh, uh,” she mumbled, thrown by my about-face. Her fake everything slipped back into place as she put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s going better now. How about you? You like what you’re seeing?”

“It’s been a fun night.” Scanning the room, I caught Eden glancing our way before hurrying through a door next to the stage.

“You wanna head to one of the private rooms?” Leaning closer, the blonde whispered, “Or maybe get together later? I’ve never met up with a customer.”

I almost choked on my beer. I’d sooner believe her snatch was a working credit card reader.

Not that it mattered. I didn’t want a dance, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fuck her.

“I want to buy a dance for the groom,” I declared, all the guys hooting and whistling.

Her smile became forced as she took Dave’s hand.

I sat back with my fresh beer and kicked a leg up on a low table, casually searching the room. But I already knew.

Eden was gone.

Chapter Two

Just This Once

Damien

Wednesday nights were usually reserved for working on my lesson plans and returning emails.

But not that night.

That night, I’d left my house so I could sell my soul.

Obsession and addiction, Eden consumed me.

I’d spent the Monday holiday watching my email, waiting to see whether she’d reach out or, more likely, try to drop the class. When she’d walked into my room Wednesday morning, I’d been relieved.

And so hard, I’d had to stay behind my lectern.

I should’ve left well enough alone.

Instead, I’d called the club to find out when she’d be working.

Sitting at the bar, I watched her dance. That time I stared, memorizing the natural ease she moved with, as if she were dancing a graceful ballet.

It was breathtaking.

It was maddening.

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