Chapter Three - Fiona

" Wow! You were so right, Rachael. Dancing is so good for the soul, and I've almost forgotten about that plague called work," I burst out, panting, not one bit upset that I'm a little hot and sweaty from being on the dance floor.

" See. I told you so! So much fucking fun, and I'm drunk off my ass in here because all the men are extremely hot," Rachael concludes, her face as flushed as mine from dancing. Sophia and I cackle and, as a trio, we get more drinks at the bar and then find a corner of the club to sit down in to rest our weary legs.

"I love this DJ. He's always pumping out good music," Sophia yells out, pumping her fist and still bopping her head to the hardcore trance beats. She raises her hand to the DJ, and he waves back. If I ever want to go out and guarantee myself a good time, Sophia and Rachael are the women to do it with.

Settling in next to her, I grin as she sweeps her ginger hair back from her face. If you didn't know her any better, people would find it strange to see this outgoing and bubbly girl, when day-to-day she's eating people for breakfast in the courtroom.

Rachael and I are the only ones who know her so intimately. "He sure is. I feel so alive!" I proclaim, fanning myself as I strain my eyes to look through the strobe lights, and the haze of writhing bodies on the dance floor.

Rachael giggles, wiggling her eyebrows as she sips her fruity cocktail. "So fun! And the night is young. I think we should play like a dare game to spice things up," she suggests, pointing at me.

Maybe its liquid courage peeking through, or the fact I think I look super-hot in scarlet red, but I'm feeling extra confident tonight. "I'm up for the dare. Let's do it," I shout out over the music as more people join our booth.

Sophia and Rachael exchange hesitant glances, but I'm keeping my word. I want this. Whatever challenge they set, I'm on it.

"Okay, but you have to follow through and not chicken out," Rachael tests.

"I won't. I'm down for the dare," I tell her bravely, the beat of my heart rushing around my ears.

"Okay, okay, since you want to go first and you're willing to take the plunge," Rachael says excitedly with a drum roll, "you have to go to the bar and kiss the first man who approaches you."

"The first man who approaches me," I say slowly, with a serene smile. I nod my head, reaching into my purse and popping a breath mint. "Okay, I'm going to head to the bathroom first and freshen up. I'll head to the bar right after."

" Don't run! We're going to be watching, and you're going to be timed," Sophia calls out as I wink back at her. The line is short when I head in, but the vague thought I had at the back of my head during the week about losing my virginity is coming to the forefront.

I'm ready to prove my friends wrong in all ways, and the alcohol in my system is helping. As I reach the bar, the slight increase of nerves begin to kick in, but I promised myself I'd follow through.

The bartender scoots down to my section of the bar with a smile on his face. "What can I get for you?"

"Umm, I'll take a tequila sunrise," I tell him as he smiles, and I giggle, pointing to my friends, who are watching me like a hawk from the sidelines. Turning to them, I slyly point towards the bartender, wondering if he counts. They shake their heads as I continue sipping, thinking about my limited interactions with men. They've been few, and the ones who have approached me in the past have been gross .

Not having a father figure in my life hasn't helped, either. I don't even know who the ghost of a guy is. My friends—especially Sophia, being a law student has offered to help me find him.

"No," I told her firmly on the day we spoke about it over lunch. "If he can't reach out to find me, then why should I go hunting the guy down? Fuck that."

Letting the memory slip, I vow to not let the ghost of a man haunt my present. It's not as if I don't want a boyfriend, I'm just afraid of being hurt by the wrong type of guy.

I've played it smart. All my other friends have been played by men. Even Sophia and Rachael.

Taking a sip of my sunrise, I feel as if I've dodged a bullet. I've got enough drama at work, and I'd rather stay away from trouble and drama altogether. But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like I wouldn't mind sharing my life with somebody.

Tonight is a little fun, and I don't have to take it any further. I turn my body slightly to the dance floor, checking to see if there's anybody I like, but there are too many bodies and they're cloaked in dark light, so I can't recognize anyone.

Staring at the empty barstool in front of me, I feel a weight drop in my chest. Maybe nobody's going to approach me, but just as I'm losing hope, a tall man, whose dark, enigmatic presence sends chills down my spine, appears.

Slowly, I lift my head as the tall, bearded man in a black leather jacket, slacks, and polished shoes approaches.

Holy shit. Who is this guy? I can feel his importance as he stands by the empty barstool, the dark heat radiating from his pale skin. His eyes almost look like deep, dark orbits of space, and for whatever reason, I know they're not for diving in, but I'm so suffocatingly hypnotized by the man that I want to.

This man is fucking dangerous, and he's the perfect type of man to ruin my life. Charming like a snake and attractive. The direct opposite of what I want in my life.

"Is this seat taken?" he asks politely with only a hint of a curve on his mouth.

"No, this seat isn't taken, feel free to sit down," I tell him in a bubbly voice.

"Hi, I'm Ruslan. Nice to meet you." I shake his hand, the ripples of sizzling heat dancing between our palms. It's scintillating enough for me to retract my fingers from his palm with a confused frown. Ruslan is like a live wire of hot-blooded energy, and it's one I'm not familiar with.

"Nice to meet you too," I croak, my streak of temporary confidence wavering under the intense weight of his gaze. I withhold my name hoping it will make me seem more mysterious.

Ruslan's hooded eyes hold my attention as he openly admires my body from top to toe. "You're hard to miss in that red dress. It fits you perfectly."

Blushing, I hold my own, smiling demurely back at him. "Thanks, you look very handsome too. Do your tattoos mean anything?" I ask, feeling tongue-tied. Ruslan's deceptive smile broadens as his thick hands tap the bar. "That's a long story, but yes every patch of ink on my body has meaning."

"Oh, they do? So why do you have three skulls on the inside of your forearm?" I question as Ruslan surveys me.

Ruslan chuckles darkly, signaling the waiter with one finger, his gaze returning to me.

"Do you really want to know?"

The dirty scoff after the question shoots tingling shivers down my spine, but there's something about his ruthless undercurrent that thrills untapped parts of me.

Remember this doesn't have to go any further. He's just a dare. A hot player dare, but still, that's all he is.

"Yes, I'd love to know," I taunt as I listen to his order, feeling my confident spark return.

"No, you don't want that story right now. That might be for another day—girl in the red dress," he teases back, leaning in.

"Presumptuous much?"

Ruslan chuckles. "I guess it might be, but a man can only dream, can't he? You're that beautiful, I'm finding it hard to concentrate," he says with a deep rumble in the base of his throat.

Smooth. So smooth, Mr. Player. "Nothing wrong with dreaming," I quip, an intense heat flushing from head to toe as I do my best to match his banter. He might not be Mr. Right, but he's good enough for this dare.

Our bodies are inches from one another, and there's an understated forcefield of heat emanating between us. It's as if there's nobody else in the club but us.

"Oh yeah? I do that to you?" I say breathily, my chest rising and falling.

Ruslan scoots his chair closer to mine, the musk of his masculine scent and cologne rendering me speechless.

Wait for the right time. Just wait.

"Yes, so much so, I forgot to ask if you want a drink. It looks like you've finished that one." Ruslan eyes the bottom of the tequila sunrise, a smile quirking his enticing mouth.

"Why not?" I shrug, smiling at him.

Ruslan grins, tapping the side of my empty glass and signaling the bartender. I watch as he surveys me, but in a flash, he's pulling his stool closer to mine. "What should we cheers to?" he asks.

"We should cheers to a fun night out," I say absentmindedly. Raising my glass, I clink mine together with his, but he shakes his head.

"No, what we should cheers to is you blessing me with your presence," he says, pouring on the compliments. "And the fact that you're here with your friends and you choose to sit up at the bar with a man like me."

This is the time. This is the time.

"How about we take it one step further, then?"

You're out of your depth but keep going anyway. Leaning forward, with the slow thrumming pulse of my heartbeat in the base of my neck, I offer my lips in the shadows of the club, chasing the thrilling conclusion of the dare.

I'm unprepared for the gentleness of the kiss, his mouth offering mine a safe landing, God. It feels good to kiss him, and it's as if I'm melting into Ruslan, the darkness of the night owning us. His lips meekly open their prized possession, digging for treasure as I experience the softness of his tongue tangling with mine. The tenderness doesn't last, but I don't care, Ruslan's already got a stronghold on me, and I don't want to get out of it either.

I feel a large hand at the base of my neck clamp over it as he draws me deeper into his mouth, his kiss becoming rougher. But still, I don't back away. I let him take possession.

Once I draw back, I run a finger over my swollen mouth, impressed, and intimidated by his experience at the same time. Breathing in a deep sigh, I let my heartrate return to soft, even beats, the club continuing to spin around us.

Ruslan unlatches himself from me as I look at him dead center in his lifeless eyes. How does he remain so unaffected by what we just did? What does he know that I don't?

Ruslan takes a moment to speak, offering me his dead eyes. "I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I didn't offer it," I reply seductively.

"And? What is it?"

"Fiona."

"Fiona." He rolls the name off his tongue so dangerously that goose bumps form on my arms. Finally, he smiles, leaning back in, tucking my hair behind my ears. "Why don't we go somewhere else that's more peaceful?"

Taking a beat, I lick my lips, the music changing cadence. It's time to lose my V card. I look at this virtual stranger, taking a deep breath. I know he's going to take me to a hotel. This is it. "Sure. More peaceful is a good option."

"Finish your drink, and I'll take you somewhere nice."

Readjusting my purse, I smile inwardly, not believing I'm about to really do this. Holy shit, am I going to do this?

Threading a needle through the crowd, I turn back to see Sophia's mouth wide open in disbelief, and Rachael cheering me on.