Chapter 1

Isip my soda water as the thumping bass line of whatever mix the DJ is playing vibrates through the club floor. The bar is crowded, but I hold my space on the bar stool I claimed an hour ago when we arrived, undeterred by the crowds around me clamoring for a space of their own.

One look at the scowl on my face stops the guy grumbling about me hogging the seat, and he takes his complaining elsewhere.

A nightclub is not my idea of fun, no matter how much my friends insist that I'm young and free and should act like it. At twenty-five, I'd much rather be at home in my own crowd and noise-free apartment than out with a bunch of drunk strangers dancing to an indecipherable mix of songs. But it's Kade's birthday, and as one of my oldest friends, I'll suffer the discomfort in order to celebrate with him.

Though, currently, I can't find his face in the crowd so he seems to be doing just fine on his own. I spot a few others in our friend group, laughing and joking at the edge of the dance floor, but my gaze skates over them, drawn back to the person who captures my entire focus in every room we're in together.

When Lacey Scott is close by, everyone else ceases to exist.

She sways to the music, full hips swinging side to side to the beat, arms stretched over her head, and face tilted back so the multi-colored lights send blue and pink over her flushed complexion. Her long blonde hair is tied up off her neck in some sort of plaited design that looks both intricate and perfectly messy. There's a bead of sweat dripping down her spine, following the low back of her blue dress. My eyes trail it, taking in the curves and dips of her body.

I shift in my seat as my cock reacts to my perusal of her body, pressing against the zip of my jeans and making me grimace. It's getting really fucking hard to keep up with the just friends relationship Lacey and I are supposed to have. I try and fail to remind myself that I can't have her the way I so badly crave.

She's not just any girl, she's my brother's ex-fiancée.

The reminder of what he did to her makes my teeth grind and fists clench. Edward, my brother, never deserved her. They were supposed to get married last month. Hell, I was supposed to be his groomsman. But five months ago, not long before their wedding day, Eddie up and fucked off with some new girl.

Turns out, my asshole brother had been cheating on Lacey for months. Not only did he cheat and lie to her, but he broke up with her and immediately left the country to go on some swanky, expensive-as-fuck holiday with his new girl. He left Lacey with a broken heart, a sense of utter betrayal, and a huge fucking mess to clean up.

When I heard what happened, thanks to my brother posting on social media with some girl I'd never seen in some hot sunny country somewhere, I immediately ran to their shared apartment to check on Lacey. I always liked her, but I never let myself dwell on that. She'd been my brother's girl, after all.

I only intended on offering her comfort and some support, given she had been left with the horrible task of contacting all the vendors and guests for their wedding to tell them the wedding was off. I'd taken that task off her hand after listening to her sob down the phone to yet another relative asking why the hell the wedding was canceled and what happened. I handed her a tub of ice cream, a thick fluffy blanket, and snatched the phone out of her hand.

That night, I worked through the list and informed everyone with a gruff, dark tone that ensured nobody asked any more prying questions, and sat with Lacey as she sniffled and finished the whole tub of ice cream in one sitting.

Most of her friends had also been Eddie's friends and now that they'd broken up, they sided with him because, of course, he surrounded himself with assholes like him.

Lacey didn't deserve a second of the struggle and pain Eddie caused her. And I did everything in my power to soothe that pain.

Now, a few months later, she's part of my friend group like she's been here forever. My friends love her, and the longer she's around us, the more she comes out of her shell. The urge to growl at my lifelong friends like I'm a goddamn caveman whenever they get too jokey or close to her is getting impossible to hide, though.

Because I want her on a deeper, much more personal level than any of them do. On a level that nobodyknows her.

Lacey is a virgin, a fact she admitted through tears as she explained all the arguments she'd had with my brother because of it.

I try very fucking hard not to think about that particular fact as my gaze stays glued to her body while she dances. My eyes flick to the side when movement catches the edge of my vision. A man's approaching her, a drink in his hand and a smirk on his face. My chest grows tight and my jaw aches with how hard I'm clenching it as he stops beside her, trying to join in her dancing.

Lacey pauses, her eyes going wide as she stares up at him. She takes a step back, and he follows, not allowing her the distance she clearly wants.

Rage floods my veins, and before I know it, I'm on my feet, not giving a single fuck when someone immediately takes my seat. Nothing else matters but Lacey.

"...come on, dance with me," the random guy is saying as I get close enough to hear them. Lacey shakes her head, and the glint of discomfort in her bright blue eyes snaps something inside me.

The second I'm close enough, I grab the guy's shoulder and throw him away from Lacey, forcing him to give her the space she's so clearly asked for already.

"Get the fuck away from my girl," I snap at the man, my voice coming out as a growl. Even over the thump of the music, I know he hears me loud and clear.

Lacey hears me too, if the breathy gasp that leaves her pouty lips is any indication.

"Whoa, dude, calm down," the guy says back, pulling a face as he looks between me and Lacey.

"Don't make me repeat myself," I snarl, having no qualms about punching this asshole if he doesn't leave her alone in the next two fucking seconds.

The dude mutters something under his breath, sneers at Lacey, then stalks off to the bar. When he's out of sight, I turn back to Lacey, focusing all my attention on her again.

I know she's as sober as I am, but her pupils are blown wide, consuming the beautiful blue. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed. She's staring at me with an expression I've only ever dreamt of.

"Are you okay, Lace?" I ask, stepping close to her so she can hear me over the music and the crowd. I don't want to have to shout at her just so she can understand what I'm saying.

She nods, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. I watch the move with interest, my cock hardening further. Christ.

"I think so," she murmurs back, taking a step closer to me so that we're almost touching. "I just…um…I feel a little flushed."

I blink at her, scrambling for some self-control. But fuck when she's looking at me like that, I can't find a single thread of control. She's been wearing it down for months.

Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, and I break.

One hand around her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck, I drag Lacey against me and kiss her the way I've been dying to for months. The first taste of her, sweet and sultry, makes me groan against her mouth.

Lacey kisses me back without any hesitation, her hand fisting my shirt against my chest. Her lips part as she makes an addictive little whimpering sound that goes straight to my cock, and when she flicks her tongue against mine, I feel as though she's set me on fire.

I hope the asshole that tried to hit on her is watching. I hope everyone in this fucking place is watching. I'm staking my claim, announcing it to both us and the world: this girl is mine.

I need more. I need all of her. Hell, I'm so out of my mind with lust from our kiss that I'm seconds away from fucking her right here in the middle of the dance floor.

"More," Lacey whines when I pull away from the kiss. Her eyes are glassy with lust, her breaths coming in heavy pants that make her breasts bounce, her lips swollen and wet from kisses.

"Yes," I agree, voice husky. "More."

She clings to me as I wrap my arm around her waist and rush us off the dance floor, away from the crowd. I want to throw her over my shoulder and sprint the fuck away from here, but she's wearing a dress and I refuse to let a single person in this place get a glimpse at her perfect ass.

I make a beeline straight for the bathrooms. Without checking if anyone else is in line waiting, I yank open the door, thankful that the bathrooms here are single-stall rooms. I slam it behind us, locking it without letting go of her, and then finally gather her up into my arms fully, lifting her so she sits on the edge of the counter next to the sink.

I claim another burning hot kiss, both of us moaning against each other, months and months of tension finally unraveling between us. My hands cup her thighs, pushing up the hem of her skirt to feel her skin, warm and so fucking soft, against me.

"Fuck, Lace, fuck," I pant against her lips, unable to find the right words for what I feel right now. "God, baby, I've wanted you for so long."

Lacey moans and shuffles a little so she can part her thighs, making her skirt ride up even more to expose the purple lace panties she has on underneath.

"I need you," she says, echoing my own thoughts. Lacey's breath shudders as it leaves her lips, my hands sliding higher. My thumb grazes the wet fabric of her pants, and feeling just how hot and ready she is for me makes my eyes threaten to roll back in my head. "Did you mean it?" she asks, quieter and more uncertain than before.

I pause, catching the insecurity in her voice. "Mean what, baby?" I ask softly, one hand coming up to cup her chin and direct her to look at me again. Touching her sends sparks through me, followed by waves of relief. I'm fairly sure I'm dreaming if not for the fact none of the filthy dreams I've had about this girl come close to the real thing. Nothing could prepare me for the softness of her skin, the smell of her perfume and the flush of her cheeks, and the way her thighs shake when I let my thumb coast over the damp patch on her underwear again.

"When you told that guy that I was your girl," she whispers, as though bracing for me to deny it and tell her I don't want her after all.

As if I could ever lie to her.

"I meant it more than I can even say," I tell her honestly, my grip on her chin loosening so I can skate my hand up her neck. My fingers tangle in the silky soft blonde locks at the base of her neck, holding her still for me. "And now I'm going to prove it. Prove I want you more than air. Prove I've been drooling over you for months. Hold on to the counter, baby, and let me prove that you're mine."