It’s his eyes—they’re everywhere to me. Around each corner. Next to each window. Beside me. Behind me. Blazing right into my face and then away again.

I watch his eyes skim the room several times and then land on me. Always on me.

I can’t avoid them. And frankly? I’m fucking terrified.

There’s something wicked in his glance, something sinister in his stare. And it’s because he knows…

I know he knows… that I want him. I’ve wanted him from the second he touched me.

And at the same time, I can’t stand him. I can’t stand his cocky attitude, his overblown arrogance.

He’s chauvinistic.

He’s whorish.

He’s a prick.

But why the fuck does he have to look so damn good?

Whatever you decide to do, Elena, just do not fuck him tonight.

***

LUKAS

 

I take another sip of my scotch, scanning the crowd for tonight’s lucky lady: my next lay.

Blondes, redheads, brunettes.

All decked out in sultry cocktail dresses. All good-looking… and pleasantly drunk.

But my eyes keep straying back to one person.

You can’t miss her in that dark red get-up: that deep, plunging dress with the skin-tight wrap.

Her legs are unusually long, especially considering her height. She’s only got a few inches on Kat, and every extra inch seems to have fallen from the waist down.

Miles of slim calves and toned thighs, shooting up from these sky-high heels, cross my line of sight from fifty feet away.

Elena.

Son-of-a-fucking-bitch.

I hate to say it, but it’s true. Kat’s sister is a certified bombshell… and has been plucking my last fucking nerve all night.

She’s mouthy.

She’s uptight.

And she’s so goddamned arrogant…

I am definitely going to fuck her tonight.

***

ELENA

 

“Do it,” Ana says in my ear. “You do it, or I will.”

“Do what?”

“Lukas.”

“Ana!” I nearly drop my drink.

Anastasia is so close to me that she nearly dunks her caramel-colored hair in my sweet-tasting whisky. Five minutes ago, she let her hair down… in more ways than one, it seems.

I, on the other, am becoming as stiff as a board.

Ana pokes me for the seventh time.

“Look at you,” she says. “You’re as rigid as a corpse. It’s all this sexual tension. It’s holding you as tight as a string.”

I grip my glass tighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, so you haven’t been eye-fucking Lukas all night?” Suddenly, I feel poke number eight. “Don’t lie, Elle. It’s unbecoming.”

She circles me, gripping my elbow from the other side.

“You can’t keep your eyes off of him. And he clearly can’t keep his eyes off of you… so why don’t you do all of us watching a big favor and go over there and talk to him?”

“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t have anything to say to him.”

Ana shrugs. “Fine, then don’t. Don’t talk to him. Just fuck him.”

Down goes my drink. I catch it last minute.

“Jesus Christ, Ana…!” I whisper fiercely. “Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?”

Poke number nine.

“You,” she says, taking a sip out of my whiskey glass.

“Well, stop it,” I say, swatting her hands away. “I don’t like it.  You’re too young.”

She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “For God’s sake, Elle. I’m graduating college soon. And I can drink and curse and do lots of things.” She smirks.

“Including piss me off. You’re doing a helluva job at that.” I laugh, giving Ana a nudge.

She smiles back at me because she knows I’m trying to deflect. I smile at her because I know she’s right… about two things.

Firstly: she’s a grown woman; I can’t tell her what to do anymore… but dammit, I’d wish she’d stop growing up. I miss my sweet little Ana.

Guess I have to accept… that that sweet little Ana is gone, and in her place is a nearly twenty-two year old titan with brains and beauty and ambition.

As for her second assertion? Well, that’s even more true.

I’m wound tighter than a drum… and you could probably play a beat on my ass, it’s so clenched.

Everyone at this party is letting their hair down, cutting loose, but me?

I’m only becoming even more rigid—even more firm. In an effort to be more austere, I’ve pinned my hair up instead, and I’m walking around like a stick figure with an inflated head.

And it’s all because of my control.

Like my drink, it’s slipping intermittently from my fingers, threatening to crash like glass against the floor.

I can’t do as much as cross my legs properly at this party without squeezing them too tightly.

Linda’s called my cell three times already while I’ve been here, and I can’t even work up the composure to open my little wristlet and answer.

Flashbacks of me fiddling with my keyboard rock my consciousness at random times.

I see myself leaning back in my computer chair as Lukas fucks me on the screen. I feel my fingers drift as they reach towards my clit and start rubbing upon his command.

I was a slave to the page, letting him sex me via Skype text, and I’d never felt so turned on.

I didn’t even know his face…

And now that I do, the ache that he started is only made worse—heightened, by his presence, his swagger—his style.

There’s something so despicable—and delectable—in it all. I can’t make up my mind.

Ana pulls me back into reality.

“Elle?” She pulls at me.

“Hm?”

“Make up your mind. Either, you’re going to go over there and say something to Mr. Melts-My-Panties, or you are going to be on your own. I’m done playing bodyguard. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

I tighten my hold on her. “What? Are you saying you’re going to abandon me?”

“You’re a big girl, Elle, so yes. I am leaving you to your own devices.”

I grit my teeth. “Dammit, Ana. If you do, then this old creepy guy that’s been ogling me all night is going to try to sweep in!”

“Just crush his dreams like you do every other guy’s.” She flashes a mocking smile.

I scoff. “I would… except I’m not in the business of geriatric abuse.”

“Just take out one little hip. That never killed anybody.” Ana winks and then takes off.

I grasp for her arm, but she’s already out of reach.

“Ana!” I hiss at her. “Psst! Ana!”

She blows a kiss at me from thirty feet away and disappears among the partygoers.

Shit, Ana. I growl out of frustration, nearly stomping my foot. Where the hell is Kat? This is her party, anyway.

Where the hell are my sisters when I need them? Who the hell is going to be my buffer for Lukas now?

A shadow descends upon my back. I turn around.

Or him, for that matter…

A set of falsies is gleaming right at me the second that Anastasia leaves my side, the geriatric Casanova making his way over to me in record time.

I don’t have the patience for this shit.

“Hello,” he says suddenly.

He flashes a mouthful of dentures that are as gray as his hair, and I nearly choke on my drink as I attempt a swallow. I sit my glass on a nearby tray.

“Hi.”

“Would you like to dance?”

I start fumbling for words. “Oh, no. No, I’m, uh…”

“Here with someone?”

Ha! Inspiration. “Yes,” I smile with fake enthusiasm. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, where is he?” the past-his-prime pimp begins to ask.

“Excuse me?”

“Where is he? I’ve seen you alone all night… or with some other woman. I don’t think you’re here with anyone… except for me right now.” He smiles wickedly.

My blood boils.

“Well, you’re clearly mistaken,” I respond. “So if you don’t mind…”