Page 7 of Spring Break Fling

Her eyes met mine, and for a second, the noise of the club seemed to fade away. “I… I guess I do.”

I waved Marco over again. “Another round for the lady.”

“Already?” he asked, with a smile. “I like her.”

While he went to make the drink, I leaned closer. “So, Idaho, what’s the plan for the rest of the night?”

“Stick with my friends,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

I grinned. “Doesn’t look like they’re sticking with you.”

She glanced toward the dance floor, where her friends were already lost in the crowd. When she looked back at me, I saw a flicker of uncertainty. Then her shoulders squared, and she lifted her chin. “I guess I’ll have to improvise.”

“Improvise with me,” I said, bold as hell.

Her lips quirked into a smile. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Marco said, sliding a napkin across the bar.

I laughed and shook my head. “Tell me your name,” I said to her.

“I’m Hannah.”

I already knew that, but I liked hearing her say it. And I only took what was offered.

“Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

“And you are?”

“Trouble,” Marco said and put a fresh drink down on the napkin. “We’ve been over this. This one’s on the house. You two have fun.”

He went to the other end of the bar and I looked at Hannah. “I’m Nikko,” I said. “And I’m the guy you’re going home with tonight.”

3

HANNAH

Well. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Two hours ago, I was sipping a questionable cocktail with my friends, rolling my eyes at their relentless attempts to get me to “live a little.” Now, I was stumbling through Nikko’s front door with his body pushed against mine. I knew what was going to happen. I wasn’t drunk enough to blame this on the alcohol.

The intoxication I felt was from him, not the few drinks I had already sweat out while we danced. He had slipped past all my inhibitions with that smile, those eyes, and the way his body moved. I was choosing to get naked with a man I didn’t know, and instead of fear, all I felt was excitement.

The rational side of me had long ago given up on trying to talk any sense into me. My friends were all bad influences, I decided. They encouraged me to do this.

If I ended up on a true-crime documentary on Netflix, it was their fault.

The door shut behind me with a definitive click, snapping me back to the present. I barely had time to register the scent of leather and musk before Nikko’s hands were on me. He pinned me gently but firmly against the wall, his body radiating heat. His lips hovered just above mine and his dark eyes burned with a mixture of mischief and raw hunger, making my knees feel alarmingly unreliable.

“You just made the best decision of your life,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like gravel dipped in honey.

“Did I?” I managed to squeak out, though the fire in my cheeks probably gave away how much I agreed with him.

He smirked, and if my pulse hadn’t already been racing, that cocky little curve of his lips would have done the trick. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Before I could overthink the situation—or say something embarrassingly self-deprecating—his mouth found mine. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a full-on, take-no-prisoners assault. His lips moved with a confidence that left no room for doubt. I melted into him like butter on a hot skillet. His tall, hard body was holding me against the wall.

My hands moved up to his dark hair. It had been slicked back when I first met him but his hair product had given up. Shoulder-length black hair fell around my hands. The guy took bad boy to the next level. His eyes were like staring into ice. His lips were ridiculously full for a man. Any woman would pay a shit ton of money for those lips. And the eyelashes that framed those beautiful blue eyes were thick and long. No man should look this good.