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CHAPTER 1
Dawson
“Bingo!” Nolan screamed, his shrill voice nearly exploding my eardrums even though he was at least three tables away.
Instinctively, my jaw tensed, his excitement like nails on a damn chalkboard.
“Fucking hell, I was one away from winning!” I groaned, ripping the sliver of thin bingo paper in half.
“Spend all your stripper money from the calendar so soon?” Cade ribbed me, his new boyfriend, Weston, shaking his head. He was still red in the face from the last round of karaoke.
“You’re not supposed to show the firehose upfront, you know. That’s what OnlyFans is for,” Weston jabbed, flashing a cocky grin.
I rolled my eyes.
“No, and fuck you,” I said sarcastically, throwing Mitch, Cade, and Weston into a fit of laughter.
“Sore loser,” Cade said as he drained the last of his beer.
I watched in disdain as Nolan fucking Harding stumbled up to the stage, like a deer who’d been hit by a car.
What the hell has him out of his office this late, anyway?
He had the audacity to shove his black, nerdy glasses up his nose just a hair before grabbing his winnings, the light of the stage shining on him like some damn halo.
But Nolan was far from an angel.
He was, in fact, the kryptonite to my Superman, the Joker to my Batman.
He was my arch nemesis.
I watched him with a scathing look as Miguel handed him his winnings, his smile stirring some sort of hurricane inside of me.
Those pouty lips, that perfect jawline...
The thought of those lips wrapped around my cock until I’d face fucked the glasses right off his pretty face had fueled more of my fantasies than I cared to admit, but who wasn’t prone to a hate-fuck fantasy every now and then? It didn’t mean I liked the guy.
I most certainly didn’t like him, and the desire to make his life a living hell was only equal to my need to run.
Run away from this damn disaster of a night.
At that moment, Nolan looked up directly at me, catching my gaze. I didn’t miss the blush that spread across his nose, continuing on to his cheeks. The sight immediately caused my brain to spur those hate-fuck fantasies at the wrong time, causing my damn cock to twitch. I grunted in response, breaking his gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden.
“Fuck this, I’m out,” I said as I pushed away from the table, leaving Mitch to browse his phone while Weston and Cade made out like two teenagers on prom night.
Mitchell waved a hand in the air, not looking up from his phone. “Toodles, Mr. March,” he said dryly.
“Nice meeting you, Dawson,” Weston said politely, between breaths. “Officially, I mean.”
I waved him off with a half-smile, but he’d gone back to playing tonsil hockey with Cade.
I made my way toward the bar to pay my tab, feeling only slightly buzzed. Max saw me coming a mile away, reaching over a group of patrons to hand me my check, which I quickly paid.
“Thanks, Max,” I said as I stumbled over some douchebag’s big ass feet that were sticking out.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” Bigfoot spoke, turning to me with an angry expression.
“Keep all hands, arms, legs, and feet inside the airplane, asshole, and I won’t have to,” I nipped. Max shot me a scathing look as the man sweetly told me just where to shove his gigantic foot.
