Chapter 12 Marcus

I wasn't actually expecting to run into Cassie. When I set out for Brooklyn, I figured the odds of Cassie going to her favorite bar on a Friday night weren't quite zero—but weren't high either. After all, there were more bars per capita than Starbucks in this city.

When I first saw her, I didn't even realize it was Cassie. I just thought she was any other woman at Shelf Atlas that night—except unlike the other women, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Once I saw her, I had to apologize to the woman I had been dancing with—a woman who was quick to make a lot of promises about what we could do back at her place. She seemed confused but not devastated over it. Judging by the size of her pupils, I was likely just a willing, warm body for her.

I left the dancefloor and walked over to the small lounge area where a few people were sitting by some low tables. I didn't care that I was alone and gawking in the middle of a club; I just wanted to look at her. She was seated at the bar and whispering with a guy with full tattoo sleeves on both arms, who—in the brief time I watched them—licked his lips twice while staring at her. Frankly, I couldn't blame him. Cassie was wearing an unfathomably short, black leather skirt with a high waist that was still not quite high enough to meet the hem of her loose, short-cropped t-shirt. She looked casual, maybe even comfortable, on display. She was ragged yet desirable all at once. Fucking hell, she looked good.

My gaze moved to her messy, almost haphazard ponytail. It looked like she threw it up in a hurry when the heat from the bodies in the club started to get to her. My eyes traveled over her tan skin and her shapely, bare legs. They landed on the thick lace up boots on her feet. When my eyes traveled back up those absolutely mouthwatering legs and along her body , I watched the way her short shirt shifted around her chest, revealing the bottom of the band of her black bra when she leaned forward.

The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. There were countless women in the club, but the moment I laid eyes on that one, I was hooked. Transfixed.

Mine .

She looked like pure sex to me—carefree, unapologetic, no-holds-barred sex. I immediately envied the guy she was speaking to. I hated him. I wanted to be him.

When her gaze drifted away from her companion, I realized it was her. Cassie. I recognized the elegant column of her neck and the way she sat up straight—posture unparalleled. My heart practically stopped. It seemed impossible. After a few minutes—minutes where my heart rate climbed like it was summiting Everest—I was positive it was her.

I wasn't sure why I walked up to her. Maybe it was the alcohol: the shots I took back at my apartment and the beer I was working through now. Maybe it was the high from the hit I took from that guy who spilled his drink on me. Maybe it was the fact that my brain couldn't function with every part of my body shouting at me to GO GET HER , just like those girls in Panera told me to.

I didn't fucking know. All I knew was that my feet brought me over to Cassie and I stood next to her quietly for a few seconds like a kid at his first coed dance in middle school.

"Hey," I offered, in possibly the lamest opener in the history of the English language.

She was in the middle of pretending to laugh at something that this guy was saying before I arrived, so she was still smiling when she looked over her shoulder at me. At once, her smile faded and shifted seamlessly into a frown.

"Hey," I repeated. Somewhere out there, great writers and masters of language like Shakespeare, Faulkner, and Hemingway were having drinks together in the afterlife and laughing out loud at how badly I was bombing this conversation.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone was downright accusatory. For a moment, she surveyed me up and down, starting with my black shirt and moving down to my worn jeans, which I dug out of the bottom of my dresser earlier that night. When her gaze settled back on my face, she frowned even deeper. "Did you follow me here?"

"Nope." It was only then I realized I didn't have a better explanation for being there. I couldn't very well say to her, Well, my therapist recommended I get to know you, and I had nothing else to do on a Friday night, so I lied to my best friend and took his Instagram password so I could stalk your profile and then spent forty-five minutes in an Uber to cross the Brooklyn Bridge on a Friday night all because I've been contractually banned from doing anything fun in public for the last six years, and figured nobody would recognize me here.

"Hey, I'm Joseph," the guy sitting next to Cassie chimed in. He held out his tattooed hand. "Good to meet you."

"I'm Logan," I responded, giving him the fake name I used at hotels and restaurants. When we shook hands, he squeezed so hard I was embarrassed for him. He had to be compensating for something, I assumed.

"Are you two friends?" Joseph asked, glancing between Cassie and me.

"Coworkers," Cassie cut in, quick on the draw. "Marcus was just leaving."

"Logan," I corrected her just as quickly. "And I'm not leaving. I'm actually going to buy her a drink."

My response made both Cassie and Joseph pause. She furrowed her brow and shifted to look at me, those big brown eyes examining me as if I were Marcus's evil twin or something.

Not to be ignored, Joseph cleared his throat and gestured at Cassie with his thumb. "I already bought her a drink, so—"

"Joseph, I'll give you two hundred dollars cash to get lost," I offered. I reached into my back pocket and took out my wallet. "Sound good?"

He paused and gawked at the two hundred-dollar bills I tugged out of my wallet. Slowly, his eyes widened. He glanced between Cassie and the bills twice before he reached out and took them without a word, freeing up the stool next to her.

"What the hell was that?" she questioned as I slid into Joseph's vacant seat.

I ignored her comment and instead tilted my head towards the beer tap. "What are you drinking?"

Cassie scoffed. "Nothing from you." She rotated away from me so her body faced the bar, giving me a nice profile view of her. For a moment, I let myself appreciate what she was wearing. If it was her goal to drive a guy wild tonight, I was conclusive evidence that she succeeded spectacularly .

"You look great, Cassie," I said, looking her up and down once. "I mean it."

"Bite me."

Gladly .

"So, are you going to let me apologize or not?" I asked. "I'll also apologize for scaring off Joseph if you want, but you probably owe me some thanks."

When she canted her head to the side, it made her long ponytail flip, which was easily the most charming thing I had seen all day. "Explain that."

"Any guy who thinks two hundred dollars is worth more than your time is a shithead," I told her.

Cassie turned her head slowly, facing me once more. Her eyes scanned me for what felt like the third or fourth time tonight. "You really want to apologize?"

"I do. Will you let me?"

She took a long pause, like she was still on the fence about whether I even deserved the right to speak to her. "I'm going to let you grovel," she finally declared, her expression still unrevealing. "But it's truly up in the air whether I'll accept it."

That was better than nothing. "I've been thinking about what I said to you and I'm embarrassed about it. But I would also be doing myself a disservice if I didn't say what was on my mind. So, I'm trying to be mature and to talk it out."

"Right now?" she asked, gesturing to her right where the dancefloor was packed with gyrating bodies. "You came all the way to Brooklyn to have this conversation with me tonight ? How the hell did you even find me?"

"It's a long story," I said honestly. "And you clearly don't want to give me much of your time, so I can either apologize or I can give you the long story."

She sat up straight and shook a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail away from her face. "You really want to apologize?"

"Yep."

"Alright, here's an idea." She rotated fully in her seat, giving me a head-on view of her outfit. Her body was a revelation, and I found myself clenching my fist involuntarily as I again looked her up and down. "Chugging contest. If you can beat me, I'll listen to your lame ass apology."

I paused, wondering if I heard her correctly. Her expression didn't falter.

"You're serious," I stated. "You want to have a chugging contest with me."

"Absolutely. I'm dead serious."

Well, that was a first. I released a soft whistle as I slowly wrapped my head around the idea. If we were being honest, I'd had weirder challenges thrown my way—like the time a VC said he would give fifty thousand dollars to Libra if I took his daughter to her senior prom. But never before had a woman ever challenged me to a chugging contest. "And if you beat me?"

"If I beat you," she continued, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement, "you have to promise to answer any question I ask you."

"That's it? You want information?" I clarified.

"I live for it," was her response. She gave me one of her classic, socialite white smiles. "Deal?"

It was rare to see some levity out of her, so I played along and nodded. "Fuck it. It's a deal."

My pulse had sped up—in a good way. I struggled to suppress a smile as we waited for the bartender to give us the beers I ordered. They came cold and foamy in those semi-transparent plastic cups, just like the ones we used back in college. Watery. Cheap. Beers in hand, we moved on our barstools so we were facing each other. Our knees collided softly and I didn't bother to pull back; neither did she.

Cassie was clearly working to curb a smile too, but I recognized that look. It was that same self-satisfied expression from earlier today—the one she had on her face when she cleaned up my legal files so quickly. That expression probably should have terrified me. Nobody threw down the chugging gauntlet unless they knew they could win.

"Ready?" she asked, holding up her beer. She swirled it once like it was a glass of fine wine.

"Ready." I nodded, raising my beer as well. "On three?"

One.

Two.

Three.

We both set off, drinking as fast as we possibly could. Within seven seconds, I was triumphantly crumpling up my empty cup and dropping it on the bar.

Cassie, who finished her beer just a couple of seconds later, widened her eyes when she saw me drop my cup with a flourish. I couldn't help but grin.

During my brief stint at college, I was a master chugger. Like Kobe Bryant, unmatched, prodigiously talented at it. Once the shit hit the fan and the infamous Vanity Fair article came out, our PR firm told me I was never, ever allowed to chug anything ever again. Until today, I had upheld that promise—but it was clear I hadn't fallen out of practice.

Still got it, Fitz .

"I'm stunned," she admitted, both eyebrows raised. She took a bar napkin and dabbed at her lips, careful not to smear her dark red lipstick. "Is there any chance you cheated?"

"Nope. You ready for my apology?"

"This better be good." She did this thing where she straightened her back and pretended to brush her hair off both of her shoulders. Even I had to admit, there was a self-deprecating charm to it—like she knew how much it annoyed me to see her looking so prim and perfect all the time.

"Cassie, I'm sorry," I said, locking all the sincerity I could muster on my face.

Those doe eyes fixed on me. After several seconds of silence, her expression slowly shifted to a frown. "Wait, was that it?"

"Yep," I responded, somehow keeping a straight face as she glared at me.

"Oh, fuck you, Marcus. That's the worst apology I've ever heard."

I couldn't hold it in anymore and I grinned, smiling as I watched her roll her eyes. The warmth of the beer settled in my stomach. I was four drinks deep, sort of stoned, and definitely in my happy place.

"Were you messing with me?" she probed, her voice rising.

"Maybe."

In response, she reached out and pinched my shoulder over the sleeve of my shirt.

"Hey," I warned, rubbing the spot with my palm. "Watch it. Let's not get violent. We still work together."

"You're an asshole," she declared.

"So I've heard," I said, letting my grin taper out. I scooted forward in my seat and shifted closer to her. "Cassie, I'm sorry. I've been unfair to you and I've been immature. I've been letting shit that happened a long time ago cloud the way I think about you now. That's wrong of me."

Next to me, Cassie's shoulders relaxed, tension slowly slipping away. She let her attention drift down to my mouth before she returned her focus to my eyes.

"You're right," I continued, leaning even closer to her so she could hear me over the throbbing music. "I don't know anything about you. And you don't have to tell me shit about yourself if you don't want to, but from now on, I promise I'm going to be better to you. You have my word."

She lifted both eyebrows in unison before she relaxed her expression. "You mean it?" she asked, serious this time. "No more games?"

"No more games, no more making fun of the data room—even if I think it's, like, the dumbest fucking thing in the world."

"Oh, you're not wrong." She shook her head. "I cringe every time I have to say that to someone."

"Really?"

"Of course," she assured me—as if I should have realized that already. "It's simultaneously the most confusing and yet most obvious name in the world. Right?"

"I completely agree," I said, snickering. "Hey. Did we just agree on something?"

"I think we did." Cassie smiled—and for once it seemed real. Genuine. She scooted closer to me, almost imperceptibly so. That small movement made my stomach flip over. Holy shit…was it remotely possible she was into me?

"I'm glad that happened," I said, before I could fall into a silent stupor at the thought of this goddess of a woman having any interest in me.

"And not a moment too soon, because I kind of want to strangle you with my bare hands."

"With those waify things?" I said, nodding at one of her delicate, manicured hands. "Please. You couldn't even if you tried."

"Go to hell."

"I'd rather be in hell then spend another minute in the fishbowl with you."

Smirking, Cassie ignored my comment and instead turned her attention to the bartender. She held up two fingers, motioning for another round.

"Not done?" I asked.

"I'm just getting started," she responded. She nodded at the bartender. "Put it on his tab, please."

I didn't object. "You're welcome."

Smugly, she pushed a beer in my direction. "Okay, I have to beat you in a chugging contest. I will literally never forgive myself if I lose to a guy who didn't even finish college."

For some reason I winked at her, which was something I never did. "I feel bad for you if you think all the best drinking happens in college."

"Oh, are you telling me Marcus Fitz goes hard? So surprising. Alright. New stakes: If I win, I get to ask you anything I want and you have to answer. And if you win—"

"If I win, I want the same opportunity. I ask, you answer."

Swirling her beer in her hand again, she raised an eyebrow. She was fucking cute when she did that—when she gave me that curious, surveying look. "You sure you don't just want a blowjob?"

I choked on nothing. My throat immediately tightened and I couldn't remember how to breathe. I coughed into my elbow, gasping for air while Cassie laughed out loud at me.

"Oh my god, I was kidding," she insisted. "Do you need water? I didn't expect you to self-destruct."

"I'm fine," I assured her, waving her off as I cleared my throat. My voice came out hoarse and labored. Using my fist, I patted my chest a couple of times. "You're an asshole though."

"Takes one to know one." Cassie held up her beer. "Stop stalling. Are you ready?"

"Cheers."

One.

Two.

Three.

This time, I let her win. I could have easily beaten her. Even with my coughing fit a few seconds ago, I had this one in the bag. She was adamant about this question though—to the point where I needed to know what she so badly wanted to learn about me.

"Suck it," she declared when she crumpled up her empty cup. "I knew I could beat you."

Leisurely, I downed the remainder of my beer and put the empty cup on the bar. That was my fifth drink and I may as well have been floating. My body felt loose, all the way to my lips. I fucking loved this feeling. It had been a long time since I had been drunk like this.

"Congrats, princess. You earned it."

"Clearly," she remarked, nodding her chin at my cup. She wasn't fooled by my act, but neither of us would say that out loud.

"Go ahead. What did you want to know about me?"

"What's the deal with the binder?"

Admittedly, I should have seen that one coming. As soon as she asked the question, the smile instinctively drifted away from my face. I looked at Cassie, eyes on hers. Her expression was somewhere between amused and curious. The explanation would be a real buzzkill—and I knew that. But I wasn't ashamed about seeing a therapist—hadn't felt that way in years.

"You want the real answer or the one that's not going to kill the mood?" I asked.

"The real answer. Always."

I took a deep breath. "It's a journal. I write about how I'm feeling so I remember what to tell my therapist."

As soon as she heard this, Cassie's jaw lowered a fraction of an inch. After a moment, she raised a shoulder. "No shit," she said.

"Yep."

She looked away from me and began to poke absentmindedly at her discarded cup on the bar. "I'll get it from the data room on Monday."

I wasn't expecting her to say that, so when she made the offer I immediately frowned. "What about the sanctity of the room and the security principles?"

"Fuck it," was her response. She raised her shoulder again. "Right?"

"Right…Thanks, Cassie."

Cassie glanced up as the bartender passed by us. She paused, lips folded over like she was tempted to order another round.

"Are you going to make me drink if I want to ask you something?" I inquired. "Not going to lie, I pre-gamed back at my apartment, so I'm dancing on the thin line between drunk and sloppy."

"Depends on the question."

"Why'd your parents cut you off?"

Immediately, Cassie started to shake her head. "Hell no," she commented, before she faced the bartender. "Another round here."

"You're serious?"

Cassie didn't respond. She simply kept her eyes on the bartender, who poured us two more beers and handed them to her.

She passed me a beer and I paused, expecting her to count us up to another chugging contest. But to my surprise, she faced me, drank the entire beer in a gulp, and hopped off her stool. I was left alone at the bar, beer in hand, watching as she melded into the crowd on the dancefloor. Gone.

I felt like I had to scoop my jaw off the floor when she left. It was partially due to the alcohol: I wasn't as sharp as I usually was, so it took me a few seconds to comprehend that she had basically dismissed me—and let me buy myself a beer as her parting gift. It was also partially due to utter disbelief at how disappointed I was that she left me.

Bewildered, I looked over at the bartender, who was leaning back against the wall behind the bar, arms folded. He snickered, raising an eyebrow as he watched me.

"That happen a lot?" I asked, nodding my head towards the dancefloor.

"With her? All the time," he confirmed.

For some reason, that didn't faze me. Instead, I rose from my seat and took out my wallet. I dropped a couple of twenties on the bar, grossly overpaying. I was too buzzed to care. I raised my chin in the direction of the bartender, who gave me a salute as I headed towards the crowd.

The hard pulse of bass hit me, reverberating through my chest. There was a faint cloud of smoke above me. It was a mix of cigarette and pot and vape pens lingering over the moving bodies in the crowd. I stepped right into the cloud, inhaling the haze. Now that I was in the fray, a hand landed on me immediately, firm on my shoulder. I was face to face with yet another gorgeous woman. This one had long black hair and was wearing a tight dress that left nothing to the imagination. She pressed her body against me, chewing on her lower lip as she coaxed me to dance with her.

For the second time tonight, I politely declined. This woman was painfully tempting, but she wasn't the one I wanted. Tonight was a monumental night for me. Tonight, I was going to make up for lost time. The motto of the evening: Fuck PR, fuck the contracts, and fuck common sense . If I was going to put it all on the line, it wasn't going to be for a random stranger, no matter how hot she may have been.

No. Tonight, I was going to put it all on the line so I could fuck the girl who nearly broke me ten years ago.

As I pushed deeper into the crowd, Cassie wasn't hard to find. She was the blond one drawing eyes from more than a few guys as she moved with both arms over her head. She flipped her ponytail side to side as she danced, mouthing along with the words. I'd never seen her so loose—so free . Even back in college, I never saw her out at night, dancing alone like this. Back then she was still pearl earrings and polite nods when inebriated lacrosse players would hit on her. I didn't even think Cassie ten years ago would have spoken to Cassie today—the Cassie I was watching.

I elbowed my way through the crowd until I was just a few feet away from her. My beer sloshed over the rim of my plastic cup, wetting my hand. I chugged it sloppily before I pitched it to the side, never taking my eyes off her. Adrenaline coursed in me, mounting as I watched the ebb and flow of her hips. Her skirt shifted higher with every move, revealing mind-blowing legs.

She was right in front of me, so close I could smell that familiar scent of sweet florals. Her body was inches away. Moving, turning, twisting. I could see the dip in her spine, shimmering with the soft hints of light and sweat. It beckoned to me, relentless like a siren's song. The urge to trace that dip, to run my fingertips all the way from her waistband and up that column so I could touch her until my fingers reached the clasp of her bra was nearly overpowering. But I spent six years exercising restraint in everything I did.

Fuck PR, fuck the contracts, and fuck common sense.

I placed my hand on her ribcage. For the first time, her warm skin met mine. Fuck, she was soft. And I could feel the twist of her abdomen as she continued to dance, unbothered by or oblivious to my touch. My body lit up, fueled by the newfound connection to hers. I wanted more of her. In that moment, she was the only thing I wanted.

Keeping my hand on her bare skin, I moved closer so her back was flush against my chest. I shifted my hand to her front, now splaying it flat along her abdomen. This was blatant. Intimate. She couldn't mistake what my intentions were. And still, she didn't turn around to face me. Instead, she arched her back against me, colliding the globes of her ass against my hardening cock.

Want surged in me, washing over my body. She was temptation embodied, unlocking urges I had suppressed for years. Ideas collided in my head, ideas of what I wanted to do with her. To her. It didn't just start and end with fucking her. I wanted to suck every curve on her and grind my body on hers, rutting against her bucking hips. I wanted to lose track of where I ended and she began. I wanted to claim her—and I wanted her to take all of me. My body. My hands. My cock. She could own me freely if she wanted.

Cassie's hand rose to rest on top of mine, fixing it tight against her stomach. Locking me against her. Letting me feel her flesh. Her other hand passed over her shoulder, landing along the back of my neck. She was tangling us together, increasing the connection points between our bodies. Sharply, she tugged my head forward, bringing my cheek against hers.

Good girl .

She wanted me, so she was taking me—but like hell was I going to let her drive.

With her body still undulating in my arms, she turned her head, leaving our lips just an inch apart. I breathed her air; she was breathing mine. I couldn't resist. I lowered my lips to her neck and I pressed them against her skin.

That was clearly the moment when I crossed the Rubicon. We weren't dancing anymore; this was foreplay. Her body practically purred with lust, quivering in my embrace. She rotated in my arms, pulling back in the process. I didn't let go of her hand. Nothing could have made me let go of her at that point.

We faced each other. Her eyes started at my chest and traveled higher, surveying my mouth. Her eyeliner was smudged and her chest heaved, accentuating her generous breasts. She stopped moving; we were the only ones standing still on the dancefloor.

Briefly, doubt entered the picture. Maybe I had misread it. Maybe I had taken it too far. After all—she was a fucking vision. She looked like she was handcrafted to make men weak with desire. Her curves. Her waist. That damn mouth . I could have devoured her in that moment. I wanted to grab her so hard that she would feel me for days and grow wet every time she thought of me.

I was about to apologize to her when her expression softened. To my surprise, she began to smile at me. It was inviting. Gorgeous. Genuine . I wanted her to smile at me more often. I needed her to. I tugged her towards me, letting her know I didn't want any of this fucking space between us. Then she was back on me, this time with her front flush against mine. Her breasts pressed into my abdomen and her arms rose to the back of my neck.

We moved together to the music, grinding to the fast beat—our bodies too close for our professional relationship to ever be the same. I knew it; she knew it. Neither of us gave a flying fuck. My hands planted on her ass, gripping her over her tight leather skirt. I decided I loved leather. I decided it was the sexiest thing I had ever put my hands on. From today forward, I was going to buy a skintight leather skirt for every woman I would ever date.

Cassie tugged on the back of my neck, bringing my face closer to hers. She weaved her fingers through my hair, clutching me like I was her property. Her lips touched my ear as she writhed on me, clearly unbothered by how public this was. "Did you follow me here?"

"Yeah." I didn't lie.

"What for?"

"I wanted to know more about you."

"Oh yeah?" she probed, her tone laced with disbelief. Her hips jerked against me, basically begging my cock to make an appearance. "What did you learn about me?"

I pulled my head away from hers so I could stare at her. At the same time, I raised my hands up from her ass and dragged them to the waistband of her skirt, letting my palms rest on her bare skin. She inhaled sharply, and I knew I had caught her off guard.

"I learned you should dress like this more often."

"Maybe I always dress like this," she responded, her voice crackling as she whispered in my ear over the pounding bass line.

"Do you?"

Cassie didn't answer. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on mine, attentive but unrevealing. "What else did you learn?"

"I learned that you're so fucking hot I can't even remember why we hate each other so much."

The words escaped me before I could really consider their gravity. I didn't regret them though. Once they were out in the open, my intentions had been laid bare. I wanted her; now she couldn't ignore it.

She was a stone-cold fox though. My admission didn't faze her. On the contrary, it seemed to delight her. She raised the corner of her lips into a faint smile. "I remember why." Her hands traveled down from the back of my neck to my chest. They pressed there, taking in hard muscles and gripping at them through my shirt like she resented the fact that my body called to her. "I hate you because you're a vengeful egomaniac."

I pulled her closer, holding her against me so firmly that when she breathed, I could feel her abdominal muscles pressing against me. This was dangerous, bordering on the point of no return—where I would have been content and willing to fuck her right there in the crowd. "And I hate you because you're a holier than thou princess."

"I hate you because you think being rich makes you important." She rose on her toes, again bringing her lips just an inch from mine. Her scent overwhelmed me. Perfume and sweet lipstick. Whiskey and beer.

"And I hate you because you're a goddamn mystery to me," I murmured.

This time, I didn't wait for a response. I kissed her—hard. Our lips met and the connection was pure heat—a decade of tension igniting into potent, insatiable desire. Her taste went straight to my head, urging me to explore her. I did, pulling in soft, plump lips. I wanted this mouth to be mine. I wanted to wage wars if it meant nobody else could ever indulge in this wicked mouth but me.

We only kissed for a few seconds before a groan escaped her—want and hunger leaving her and hitting me in all the right places. My tongue parted her lips, tasting her. I loved her warmth and the way that she let her body fall right into mine. She could melt into me and I wouldn't mind it.

I brought my hand up along her spine, sliding it under the loose hem of her shirt. I planted it flat on her back, right on top of her bra clasp. She nodded when she felt me under her shirt, letting me know I was allowed to touch her there. I wondered where else I could touch her—there were so many places I wanted to touch her.

Suddenly, she broke away from our kiss to put her lips against my neck. She sucked in, drawing the soft skin by my Adam's apple between her teeth. She groaned as she let her tongue touch me, sucking so forcefully that it stung. I savored it. I wanted her to mark me—to stay on me for days, weeks even. As she sucked, her body shuddered against me. My other hand moved from her waist to her ass once more. I gripped one cheek in my hand, palming her fiercely. She was all softness under this leather. She was all decadent, responsive heat and smooth skin, begging to be grabbed.

Her lips returned to mine, drawing me into a full and unyielding kiss. Our tongues had fully familiarized themselves with each other at that point. It still wasn't enough. There was so much more of her I wanted to explore, and I could feel the bounds of my resolve wearing down. I went from abstaining from any kind of indecency in public whatsoever for six years, to openly making out with Cassie in the middle of a nightclub. I was just getting started.

"You're so fucking sexy," I told her, breaking away from her lips only as long as it took me to say that. I gripped her ass with my hand, squeezing it so tightly that she gasped into my mouth. "You don't care that we're doing this on the dancefloor."

"I love it," she managed to say as she pulled away from my lips. I felt her body pressing against my cock, grinding on my growing hardness. "And I hate you for being such a good kisser."

Boldly, I slid my hand from the back of her bra around to the front. I touched her over the thin lace of her bra, palming her breast in my hand, hoping she could feel my fingertips digging into her luscious skin. "Not the only thing I'm good at."

"Asshole."

"You love it." I gave her breast a squeeze, wishing I could do more. "Look at you, letting me touch your tits here. You don't care if anyone's watching us?"

Cassie opened her eyes and looked right into mine. She shook her head as she watched me, lipstick smeared and her expression wild with lust. "Baby, I prefer it."

"I can do more," I murmured, rubbing my palm over her hard nipple. Even through the fabric, I could feel it peaking against my touch, begging for my lips to wrap around the swollen flesh. "Let me take you home to my bed. Let me show you how hard your body wants to come for me."

She groaned, still grinding those sumptuous hips.

"I'll come in you," I went on. "I'll fill you up so much that you'd do anything for my cock, no matter how much you hate me."

In response, she put her mouth back on mine. She let out another moan of approval when I pinched her nipple, massaging it between my fingertips. "I can't wait."

"No?"

"No," she insisted, pulling away from my lips. She shook her head for emphasis as she looked at me. "I can't wait. I need you."

I leaned forward to press my forehead against hers, letting our sweat mix in the most primal, intoxicating manner possible. "Say it again."

"What?"

"Say it again, Cassie."

She peered up at me through long eyelashes, her gaze unfaltering. Once again, in that way that already made me crazy, she fixed her bottom lip between her teeth. "I need you, Marcus. I need to have you."

Yes . The thought alone was doing it for me. Now that I'd heard the words, I was a man possessed. I released her body from my grip and wasted no time carving a path for us off the dancefloor. Bodies gyrated and moved around us, keeping us in a tangle of limbs. I teetered between desperate and frustrated, but when I looked back at Cassie, I saw she was smiling. When we emerged from the crowd, she didn't hesitate to pull me off course. I didn't object, but I did ask her where we were going.

"I used to work here," she surprised me by saying as we bypassed the lines for the bathroom.

Cassie led me down a peeling, darkened hallway around the corner. The sound of the music faded with each passing second as we ventured deeper into the club. We reached a door at the end of the hallway. It was dented and heavy, with stickers applied in a thick layer over it.

I pushed it open and reached in to flick on a light switch—and to my surprise I saw it was a bathroom. It wasn't a communal one with stalls. Instead it was a single bathroom, clearly for employees. It was confined and dim, and even chilly from a small, open window by the ceiling.

Cassie shut the door behind us and locked the heavy deadbolt. She turned around and faced me. We stared at each other in the low light from the single bulb affixed above us.

I took a step towards her, moving slowly. Her eyes stayed locked on mine, focused. Carefully, she released an exhale as I took another step forward, closing the gap between us. Her back pressed against the door. I rested my forearms against it as well, encaging her with my body. She gazed up at me, her breathing growing heavier.

"Cassie," I said. I savored her name.

"Marcus."

"Do you want me?"

She did .

I didn't need to ask her. I could tell by the way her body was undulating against mine, like she simply couldn't hold back. She was rolling on waves of desperation.

"Yes." Her voice trembled slightly.

"How bad?"

"So bad," she answered, exhaling as she said it like the admission relieved her.

"Bad enough to let me play with you in a nightclub bathroom?"

She nodded, no hesitation. "Yes."

In the dim light, I was taken aback by just how beautiful she was. When she looked up at me, I could tell she didn't see anything else around us. I had her attention—all of it. I had no idea how desperately I wanted it until I was practically bathing in it. I lifted an eyebrow. "You can't wait for it? You're that eager for me?"

"Yes," she insisted. She raised her hands and put them on my chest, planting them flat on my t-shirt. "Please."

"Shh," I said, bringing a hand down to rest my index finger against her lips. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asked, speaking against my finger. Her breath was warm and inviting. I couldn't wait to kiss her again.

"Don't beg me." I lowered my other arm and I rested my hand on her waist. My thumb began to caress the skin above the line of her skirt, teasing her. "You should never beg anyone, Cassie. I should be begging you."

She didn't respond. She simply pressed her tongue through her lips and wet my index finger.

"Unless you like that," I mused, watching as she parted her lips to bring her mouth over the top of my finger. Fuck. "Unless you like begging me. Maybe you do. Maybe you want to beg for my cock, Cassie."

Silently, she nodded—and holy shit, I could barely keep it together. I somehow managed to steel my expression, watching as this incomprehensibly sexy woman sucked on my fingertip and told me she wanted to beg me for my dick.

"Cassie Pierson," I murmured. I pulled my finger out from between her lips before I replaced it with my own mouth for a quick peck. "You surprise me."

"You talk too much," she replied. Gracefully, she pulled away from my touch and ducked past me so she was standing in front of the white porcelain sink. Still facing me, she braced her hands on the edge and hopped up, positioning herself so she was sitting on the edge of it.

"Come here." She beckoned at me with her fingertip. "Please."

Stubbornly and against all instincts, I stayed in my spot by the door. "What for?"

"Because I need to feel you." She brought her fingers to her waistband and began to skim the edge of the leather. "I saw you earlier, touching that woman you were dancing with. I couldn't stop watching."

Surprised, I allowed a soft smile to reach my lips. The thought of her watching me could rewire my entire brain. Cassie Pierson watching me and wishing she were the woman in my arms? Fucking hell, I could die happy now. "You saw that?"

Cassie nodded.

"So, you knew I was here?"

She nodded again. "Come touch me. I need it. I can't stop thinking about it."

Narrowing my eyes, I shook my head. "You gave me such a hard time when I came up to you…"

"I love messing with you," she responded with a smile. "You're so fucking adorable when you're being serious."

I moved from the door and stood in front of her. Slow and controlled, I brought my hand to her chin and gently held it between my thumb and my index finger. "Did it make you jealous?"

Cassie kept her expression unrevealing, but the goosebumps that peppered her skin betrayed her cool. "What do you mean?"

"When I was dancing with that other woman. When I was touching her. Did it make you jealous?"

Wordlessly, Cassie nodded. She kept those big brown eyes on mine, staring at my expression. Eventually, her own expression shifted into near agony—like she was drowning in impatience.

"Were you worried I was going to fuck her? That I was never going to notice you because I was too busy putting my hands on her?"

Again, she nodded—and that sent heat right through me.

"Did you hate her, Cassie?" I whispered it, putting my lips near hers. "Did you hate that I wanted to fuck her?"

"Yes," she cooed as she reached forward and hooked her index fingers through my belt loops. Her actions were firm and possessive—and greedy as hell.

"Tell me why."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me why you were jealous. What did you want from me?"

"I wanted you to fuck me," she declared, tugging on my belt loops as she said it.

"Even though you hate me?" I placed my hands on her bare thighs and ran them upwards. "Even though I tried to get you fired? Even after I humiliated you at work today? You're that fucking horny, Cassie?"

"Yes, Marcus. Please."

I drew in a breath through my teeth before I shook my head. "I don't think you deserve it."

Cassie paused, a frown setting in on her face. " What ?"

"Yeah, I don't know if I want to fuck you," I continued, airily taking in the way her cheeks flushed pinker with each second. "After everything you've put me through, why would I want to gift you with my cock? You think you've earned that?" My hands began to push the hem of her skirt up, revealing inch after inch of her delectable, tan skin.

"Dickhead."

"My cock isn't for girls who insult me," I continued. When her skirt reached the point where her ass was pressing it against the sink, I clicked my tongue. "Up."

She didn't hesitate to lift her hips, one side and then the other, so I could continue to raise her skirt. I made it over the curve of her ass and smiled as the minuscule red thong she was wearing came into view. Her body was otherworldly, by far the most exquisite thing I had ever laid eyes on. Another time, another place and I would have taken a few hours to kiss every inch of her. I would have run my hands over her and whispered a limitless list of promises—all in the name of this body. But tonight we were in a nightclub bathroom—and this was going to be fast and frenzied.

"My cock is also not for women who can't get to work on time. God, Cassie, you look so good." I lowered one hand to cup her mound, feeling the warmth of her pussy against the palm of my left hand.

She mewed lightly at the contact before she quickly narrowed her eyes. "Then fuck me, you asshole."

"Ah, the insults again," I mused. I began to massage my palm against her, caressing her pussy over the thin fabric. Heat and wetness met my skin, testing my resolve. "No, you're definitely not getting my cock tonight."

"Seriously?" She gasped as my knuckle pressed the lace between her folds, seeking her clit. She brought her hand up to the back of my neck and pulled my mouth down to hers. "Don't you want to be inside of me?"

I did. I wanted to be inside her so much that I would have sold off all my Libra shares in a heartbeat and resigned myself to a mundane cubicle job, even if it just meant a few minutes with her. But I didn't tell her that. I just continued to tease her pussy, smiling as she began to whimper.

"You drive me crazy."

"I like it that way." My lips found hers again. The kiss felt familiar now, deep and laced with anticipation. I took my free hand and placed it on her hip bone, briefly massaging it over her bunched-up skirt. My hand drifted, traveling along her bare stomach and inciting shivers from her as I grazed her abdomen. I brought it up to the loose hem of her shirt and grabbed a fistful of cloth. I tugged on it, tightening her shirt around her breasts.

Cassie released my lips and paused with her nose against mine. "Touch more of me."

"Answer a question for me first."

"Stop teasing me."

"I'm serious. Answer a question for me and I'll touch you wherever you want."

She paused, frowning. "You're really serious?"

"Yep." As I waited, I slowly slid my hand up her mound and poised my fingertips right underneath the front edge of her thong. They danced there, taunting her. All I had to do was slide my hand down, and I would make direct contact with her sweet, bare pussy,

"Whatever, fine. What do you want to know?"

I tightened my grip on the handful of her t-shirt and smiled as I said, "Be honest. How long have you wanted me to touch you?"

Cassie inhaled sharply and looked away. Seconds passed. When she looked back at me, the desire clearly outweighed her frustration. "Ten years."

Ten years .

A smirk escaped onto my lips; I couldn't even stop it. I didn't want to stop it.

She rolled her eyes. "Are you happy? Ten years ago, I saw you in the library and I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen on another human. Two weeks ago, I was so nervous to see you again, I made myself sick at the thought. Honestly, fuck you , Marcus."

"Same," I said simply.

Cassie frowned. "Wait, what ?"

I nodded. "Ten years ago, I wanted you so much it hurt. I used to think about you nonstop. And then you fucking wrecked me, Cassie Pierson. You really did."

I expected her to apologize. That would be the rational, normal thing to do. Right now, any two rational, normal people would apologize to each other and put water under the bridge.

But if it wasn't readily apparent, Cassie and I were not rational, normal people. We were two grown ass adults who just spent weeks harassing each other relentlessly. And we were both drunk, horny as hell, and my hand was working its way into her thong where her clit was awaiting my full attention.

"Ten years," she murmured.

"Ten fucking years."

We were kissing frantically now, too hard for either of us to breathe. I was done playing. I was done teasing. My hand lowered and grazed the slick center of her folds. She was wet , nearly soaking. Unearned pride washed over me when I felt her. An expletive escaped my lips.

I ran my fingertips by her entrance, probing softly with the tip of my index finger. She nodded, humming into my lips as we kissed. I gave a quick exploratory push into her and she groaned lowly.

"More?"

"Please."

This time, I pushed the length of my index finger into her. Cassie loved that. She pulled away from our kiss and tossed her head back, her ponytail whipping against the mirror behind us.

"Marcus," she uttered, a smile spreading across her face. "Put another finger in me. Please, baby."

"Anything you want," I replied. I pressed a second finger into her and began to pump, working my hand in and out of her. She groaned again, heat flushing her skin.

"I love it," she whispered, eyes shut tight. "I love it so much."

"You can take more." I adjusted my hand as I lined up a third finger. "You can take more of my hand in your hot pussy, Cassie. You want more."

More nodding. "Yes, Marcus. I want it so—"

She inhaled sharply as I filled her with a third finger, her pussy now tight around my hand. She clenched around me, pulsing with desire as she accepted my fingers into her hot channel. I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her lips, letting my tongue graze her lower lip.

"I need to see more of you." My eyes raked over her, starting at her soaking red thong and glistening pussy, where my fingers were working her. They moved along the tan skin on her bare mound, sun-kissed and smooth. They traveled over the leather skirt bunched up around her narrow waist, and they settled on her breasts, still hidden below her shirt. Clutching the hem of her shirt in my hand, I raised it up.

My first sight of her gorgeous breasts would be forever burned into my brain—and I wouldn't have it any other way. She was wearing a black lace bra and the full cups cradled soft, decadent breasts like I had never seen before. She was stacked, far more than I expected with her petite frame. While my hand completely engulfed her pussy, it didn't even come close to covering half of one of her breasts.

"Hold that for me." I pushed her shirt higher.

"Just hold it?"

"Hold it," I repeated, motioning for her to take her shirt. "And don't fucking let go. If you let go, you're going to cover up these incredible tits, and I'm going to be extremely disappointed if that happens."

Cassie smiled softly. "You like them?"

"Of course I do," I said, frowning. "Hell, I think I just found religion."

"Touch them wherever you want."

I hooked my finger over her bra cup and tugged it down just an inch. Suddenly, I paused. There against her soft, luscious skin, a glint of something caught my eye. A surge rode through me, first recognition and then pure obsession. I pulled her bra cup down even lower, revealing her nipple. I couldn't help but murmur, " Fuck ."

I pulled down the other cup, and that's when I knew I was a goner. Cassie had pierced nipples. There was a small silver bar with ball ends on each side, fixed horizontally through each one. The metal glinted against her soft, pink areolas. It looked dangerous and inviting all at once, like the sweetest taboo I had ever seen. I glanced up at her face, where I found her watching me. Assessing me. When I grinned, she did the same.

"You're too good to be true," I declared before I leaned forward and took her nipple in my mouth. The peak was firm against my tongue, beaded and erect as I sucked. Her piercing left a faint metallic taste I immediately wanted more of. I sucked harder, grazing my teeth over the edge. At the same time, I brought my hand up to her other breast. My fingertips found her hard nipple and began to massage it.

She was moaning loudly now, saying my name every other breath as I began to work my hand in her pussy. She was drenched, moving her hips as I fucked her with my fingers.

Her body was undulating freely now, shifting with each stroke of my hand. I could feel her tightening around me. Her hips mimed like she was being fucked by my cock. When I pressed my thumb against her clit, she cried out.

"I want to make you come, Cassie," I grunted when I pulled my lips off her nipple. "I want to watch you come on my hand. Can we do that?"

She nodded, staring down at me. "Please. I want it so bad."

"Cassie, look at you ," I said. Hastily, never stopping my hand against her pussy, I kissed a path up her bare breasts, along her throat, and up to her lips. "Look at you." I kissed her. "Pierced tits out, letting me fuck you with three fingers. You're shameless. Do you like it like this?"

She wrapped her arm over the back of my neck, hooking her elbow around me. Nearly mindless, she kissed me again, nodding as she did it.

"You like being open for me like this? Exposed for me in a club? You would have let me fuck you out there, wouldn't you? Right on the dancefloor." I pressed my thumb harder against her clit, massaging it as my fingers pumped in and out of her.

"I'd let you take me anywhere," she responded, panting now. "Marcus, it feels so good…"

"Go over the edge for me," I murmured. I nipped her lower lip once and darted back down to take her nipple in my mouth again. "You want to. Your pussy is dying for release, Cassie. Come on my hand. Come for the guy you hate so much."

I gave her nipple a hard suck, tonguing her piercing. At the same time, I flattened my thumb against her clit as I curled all three fingers in her pussy back towards me, pressing on the top of her canal. Seconds later, her body tightened. I heard her inhale sharply and she held her breath for several seconds.

Suddenly, Cassie threw her head back, banging it against the mirror over the sink. She didn't seem to notice. She cried out, coming hard around my fingers. Her hips thrusted against my hand, begging me for more. I didn't stop pumping. I kept going, working my fingers in and out of her until the pulsing against my hand subsided.

When she was done, she pressed her forehead against my shoulder and murmured, "I hate you for that."