Page 25 of 1 Last Shot

The colorful cursing of the bartender as he waves security over.

But I don't see any of that. Because all I see is Kane.

The second the shout sounds, the only thing I can focus on is Kane curling an arm around my waist and spinning me to his other side. My back presses against the bar top, and Kane presses against… me.

I gasp at the sudden change in position. With Kane's arm holding me tight against his body, we're flush against each other from chest to thighs. I swear I can even feel his heartbeat against mine.

But it's not just his rock-hard body pressed against me that has me unable to breathe. It's also the way he's looking at me.

Despite our close moment at the yoga studio, this is the first time I get a good look at his eyes. They're brown, which is why they didn't particularly stand out before, but now that he's mere inches away from my face, I can see the flecks of gold flashing like lightning around his pupils. And with his gaze now focused only on me, I can't help but wonder if that's a good descriptor of Kane as a person: shrouded by darkness at first glance, but with so much fiery light hidden beneath the surface.

I try to speak the words thank you. I can't remember for what, or how we got here, but it's so ingrained in me to show appreciation that I will my mouth to form the words.

Except, the second my lips move, and Kane's focus drops to them, I forget everything I wanted to say.

Kane doesn't seem to have that problem. It takes him a moment to tear his gaze from my mouth, but eventually he says in that deliciously deep voice, "You should pay more attention,Isabella. We wouldn't want you to get hurt."

And at the reminder of our conversation from only a minute ago, the haze clears from my head. I go to push on his chest to put some space between us, but immediately realize that my hands are already clutching his arms. I swallow roughly and push him away, forcing myself not to admire the feel of his rock-hard arms. He goes easily.

"Thank you," I tell him. "For… pulling me out of the way."

I can't decipher the look he gives me. I watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, then steps past me to drop some bills on the bar.

He pauses beside me. Then his lips are at my ear, just barely brushing the skin as he whispers, "And for the record, you knew my name first, princess."

And then he's gone, leaving me with no breath and a rapidly beating heart.

10

KANE

I'm on edge when I step out of my apartment the next morning. More on edge than usual. Not because I have to work a double shift at the strip club today, or because my shoulder still hurts like a bitch from the bad shot I threw in training this week.

I'm in a bad mood because I can't get my new neighbor out of my fucking head.

Last night after the bar, I showered and changed instead of just passing out like I usually do, all because I still had her intoxicating scent in my nose. I scrubbed my chest because I could still feel her perfect tits pressed against me, and I brushed my teeth twice because I could already taste what it would be like to bite into that deliciously plump bottom lip of hers.

And yet, the thing that Ireallycan't get out of my mind, even twelve hours later, is that she saidthank you.

I'm an asshole. Certifiably. It's been a very long time since I've wanted to give a shit about anybody, which means there is no reason not to blunt my responses. Not only is it easier to say what I really mean, but it also keeps a very welcome wall between me and the rest of the world. Usually, it only takes a single conversation to get people to wise up to my disinterest and convince them I'm not worth the attention. Then I can be back in my own head and free of everyone else's bullshit.

Apparently, that doesn't apply to Isabella.

Because no matter how many times I push her, mock her, try to put distance between us… she pushes back. And somehow, she's doing it with a smile on her face.

It's infuriating and confusing all in one go.

I can't for the life of me figure out why she would care enough to even give me the time of day. I've offered her nothing, yet she keeps coming back.

Maybe she just wants a ride on the wild side.

Plenty of good girls have made it obvious to me that they just want a dirty fuck before they go back to their perfect lives, and normally I have no problem giving them just that. But that doesn't feel like the game Isabella's playing.

Andthatthought has me grinding my teeth so hard I expect them to crack.

Memories start to flood back from last night of her body pressed against mine. As much as I don't want to admit she's attractive, I can't deny that a) I'd be lying to myself, because b) my body definitely reacted to her last night. I had to angle my body in a way that she couldn't feel how hard she made me with her flirting. Though in hindsight, maybe I should've turned the heat all the way on and scared her off once and for all.

My mind drifts to what that would feel like. Thoughts of Isabella underneath me, moaning and begging for more, have my cock instantly turning to stone again.

---