“Hello, mami,” he said, licking his lips. “I’ve got an appetite for some curves tonight.”

I followed his gaze and felt relief when he nodded slightly at the dark-haired woman dancing across from the blonde. She was slightly shorter with an hourglass figure, and Luca wasted no time working his way behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. Whatever he murmured against her ear had her giggling and relaxing back into him, their hips moving in sync with the beat of the music.

The third woman radiated fuck-off vibes, practically glaring as I approached. She was probably the group's watchdog and perhaps the designated driver with the way her sharp gaze was free of the haze of alcohol. It wasn’t the slender brunette I was after, though.

The blonde’s lips parted with a gasp as I approached and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her body flush against mine. She was warm, slightly damp from dancing in the heated crowd, and smelled of citrus and fresh linens. Hell, she could be a walking ad for fabric softener with that smile. I envisioned her hanging crisp white sheets in the sun on a summer day.

“Hey, goldilocks,” I purred, wrapping a tendril of her platinum hair around my finger as piercing blue eyes met mine.

“And which bear are you?” she fired back. Spirit. I liked that. “Too little, too big, or just right?”

“Too big,” I answered confidently, and her cheeks flushed crimson.

She laughed at that, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “That’s what they all say.”

I found my lips curving at the sound of her amusement and trailed my fingers across her bare belly, flirting with the waistband of her skirt. “Maybe I’ll let you find out how true it is.”

She licked her painted pink lips, and my eyes followed the tip of her tongue and the glossy shine I wanted to taste. I satisfied my need by brushing a thumb across her plump lower lip, feeling the graze of her bottom teeth over the roughened pad.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” Her words were quiet enough that I mostly discerned the meaning from her moving lips. It was enough, though.

My cock hardened painfully at the prospect of finding out how she felt on the inside. First, I’d use my fingers and tongue. Then I’d fuck her so hard she’d struggle to walk straight and be left without doubts about my size or ability to please.

I toyed with the dip at the base of her throat as we danced, the delicate bones I could easily break. Instead, I dipped my head and kissed them, running my tongue over the ridges and tasting the saltiness of her sweat. Her moan vibrated my lips before I pulled away with a triumphant smile. She fucking wanted me, and I could give her what she needed.

For the first time in years, I wanted to take a woman home, take my time exploring her body, and make her come undone for me. It was a dangerous hunger she’d awakened in me.

I looked behind me, but Luca and his little Latina were nowhere to be seen. The grumpy makeshift chaperone had also abandoned my goldilocks to her fate. Though I didn’t believe in signs, I believed in taking advantage of an obvious opportunity when one presented itself. And the toned little goddess in front of me was a golden opportunity.

I threaded my fingers through her hair and angled her head to take her lips. She tasted like gin and cotton candy, with an underlying hint of whatever toothpaste she’d no doubt used just before going out. Her tongue met mine when I pressed past those neon-pink lips that matched her shirt, and I breathed her in as if I could suck her into my soul.

“Come back to my place,” I rasped, grazing her ear with my teeth and tugging on the silver hoop she wore in the lobe. My fingers found the hardened peaks of her nipples through her shirt, and I pinched until she drew in a sharp breath. I could feel her body softening against me; her will bending to mine as I seduced her in the middle of the crowd and began to lead her toward the exit.

Her eyes were unfocused as I brushed my thumb over her wrist in soothing circles. When my fingers threaded through hers and I brought her knuckles to my lips, she looked up at me. A flirtatious smile tipped the corners of her lips.

“My mother taught me not to take rides from strangers,” she said glibly. “Stranger danger and all that. I don’t even know your name. Women who wander into the night with men often disappear.”

It wasn’t until she giggled that I realized my jaw had dropped. She’d turned me down. While she appeared to be nonchalant, I could see her decision was firm, and I wasn’t the kind of man who forced myself on random women. They always knelt at my feet willingly. Until tonight.

“Cosimo,” I answered, kissing her knuckles in farewell. “My name is Cosimo. Goodnight, goldilocks.”

I spun and walked out of the building, refusing to look back because if even a shadow of regret passed over the blonde’s features, I might not have been able to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and hauling her home to cuff her to my bed until I was finished with her.

Crisp autumn air cooled my heated flesh as I found my car and headed toward Deception to spend the rest of the night cleaning my dungeon. The woman had no idea how true her words had been. I was a dangerous man.

My little goldilocks had saved herself from falling into the bed of a killer.

Chapter Four

My hands shook as I packed a bag to take to Deception for my audition. It hadn’t taken much to get Franco, the manager, to agree to see me audition. He’d asked if I could work a crowd while I worked the pole, then told me to come in on a Thursday to prove it.

After coming face-to-face with Cosimo Neretti at the club, I felt more confident about my role. I’d practically made that man drool, and I got to shoot a few barbs of my own. He wasn’t as frightening as everybody said, either. Sure, the man towered over me, and his lips were warm and soft, his touch electrifying—but I hadn’t succumbed. I was more than ready to get the operation underway.

So I grabbed my bag, caught a bus, and walked the last two blocks to the strip club, hoping I looked enough like the other dancers with my hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. I couldn’t very well show up in slacks and heels for this kind of interview. At least, not the type of heels I wore at the Bureau. I had high-heeled cowgirl boots in my bag to match the little costume I would don for my first performance.

I took a deep breath as I pushed through the front door of Deception and came face-to-face with a man at least three times my width.

“Evening,” he muttered, arms crossed as he took me in from head to toe. The music in the background made it difficult to hear him. “You here for Franco?”