Page 1 of Reckless Kiss

Chapter 1

She came to me, as they all did, through a friend. A recommendation. Need a good time? Call Leo.

You see way back when I discovered that my cock did a lot of amazing things I also learned women were generally treated like crap. I could be excused—rewarded even—for having a heat-seeking missile between my legs, but their skirts were always too short, their tops too low, their makeup too suggestive. When they explored the many wonders of their bodies people had a lot of not-so-nice things to say.

Being the opportunist that I was, I saw a chance to do something about that. I decided to use my talents for good and give the women I encountered pleasure for the sake of pleasure. No judgment. No stories. No gossip. They could come to me and feel free to be...free.

And of course I got the benefits too.

Thus my position as perpetual good guy with a good cock and a good time, was born. I was happy with my life and felt pretty damn proud of the gift I was giving the world until tonight.

Oh, tonight I was feeling a lot of things. Most of them I’d never felt before. The one that had me most perplexed was the feeling of beingconsumed.

Confidence, pride, direction—all gone. Blown to smithereens by one Esme Brown. Raven-haired siren with golden brown eyes, full lips, and skin like silk. I never wanted to stop touching her. Tasting her. Sinking inside her.

A friend of a friend from college.

Leo, you still fuck for fun? Good. My girl Esme needs a night. She’s spectacular.

She sounded fantastic. I had my friend give her my number. We arranged dinner—I always started with dinner—and I went through my usual pre-game rituals, confident this night would be like all the rest.

I waited at the bar, drinking a Blanton’s on the rocks, with a copy ofThe Romance on The Red-Eyesitting beside me. I picked a different book for every woman. It was her sign she’d found me.

The bar sat at the front of the restaurant with large windows to the street. It would give Esme Brown a perfect opportunity to spy on me from a safe distance. Get her bearings. Decide this was a mistake and run for the hills.

Or not.

“I tried really hard not to laugh when you texted me this book.” Her rich voice floated over my shoulder. I caught sight of her delicate hand first, her long fingers drumming the dark cover of the novel on the bar beside me.

I think maybe in that moment I knew I was screwed because I hesitated. I never hesitate. But something told me once I took in the rest of this woman I’d never be the same.

And yet I turned anyway.

“Why laugh?” I said.

Drinking her in was the first great pleasure of my night. I generally began by noting details. What a woman chose to wear, how she carried herself, her first lines, they all told me who she was and what she’d need from me. But with Esme the details were more like highlights I couldn’t ignore.

Her sapphire blue blouse might appear to be whimsical but on Esme it looked more like a woman who’d just left work, stripped off her blazer, swapped out her heels, let down her hair, and was trying more than she was succeeding to forget about work for a few hours.

She looked like a woman who needed to be thoroughly kissed.

My body roared to life, commanded, it seemed, by hers to perform the task.

Then she smiled. Red lipstick was a gift to all mankind. Not only did it make lips sexy but it also made all men envision hitting a bull’s-eye with their dicks. I wanted her red lipstick around my cock.Now.Immediately.

And that was just plain against my code.

My dates always came first. Well, after I’d smeared their lipstick, ruined their hair, and indulged their fantasies. But in order to get that red ring around my quickly hardening staffnowI’d have to break my rules.

Shame.

Damn, horrible, unlucky shame.

“Romance on the Red-Eyewas a terrible book. I took it as a bad sign but since Roger insists you’re a good guy who just so happens to give a good time, I decided to ignore my superstitious side.” She slid onto the barstool. “What are you drinking?”

I waved for the bartender, happy to have a distraction. “Blanton’s. What can I get you?”

She glanced at the selection behind the bar. “The same.”

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