Chloe Thompson plays it safe and wears sensible shoes, until she collides with the most sensual man she’s ever met. A yearning to break down her boundaries with this handsome stranger puts her lifelong, good girl status in jeopardy. Could a pair of naughty girl stilettos really be so bad?
Constantine Knight, the owner of the trendy bar Midnight Luna, can’t wait to cross paths again with the petite brunette haunting his dreams. Her shy manner contrasts the brazen empty hook-ups leaving him lonely. One night with his fantasy woman might not be enough.
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“Constantine Knight at your service.” A seductive grin tweaked one side of his mouth, exposing white teeth. He reached out and took her hand, bringing her knuckles to his mouth. A soft kiss brushed across her skin, creating a shiver of desire. Her knees became jelly and she feared they might buckle.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” His voice caressed her ears, her skin, her soul.
She gulped and blinked repeatedly, attempting to find her voice.
“Chloe. Chloe Thompson.” Her husky tone caught her off guard. She swallowed and wet her dry lips.
His sensual gaze followed her tongue. His chest broadened with a deep inhale. He leaned toward her ear and whispered, “It’s good to meet you, Chloe Thompson.”
The sexy rumble of her name in his voice caused her heart to race. No man had ever brought her to such a fevered needy peak with only a few words. His scent. The slightest of touches.
His stare roamed over her body and she felt naked before him. Yet, no longer nervous. Her usual prudish nature didn’t chastise or warn her to run.
She liked the desire building in her center. The interest of this gorgeous man enveloped her and she didn’t want it to end.
But she was a relationship kind of girl. No one-night stands. No kissing on the first date. No sex until after three months of dating.
Constantine made her want to slash and burn all of the rules she held dear. His dark sexy eyes offered sin. His full lips suggested pleasure. And his warm touch, yes, he still held her hand in his, declared the promise of exquisite heat between them.
The vibration of her phone dragged her from her naughty internal struggle. With regret, she took her hand from Constantine’s and retrieved the device. Reality rushed in. Another text from Jill flashed on her screen: Sorry. Coffee on me tomorrow.
What was she still doing here? This message was her cue to leave. Before she got into trouble. She didn’t pick up drop-dead-gorgeous men for casual fun.
“I’m so sorry about your shirt. I’ll pay for dry cleaning,” she said, stepping around the man who oozed sexual exploration from every pore. “I have to go.”
She turned away.
His reclaimed her arm. The heat of his touch seared her skin in the most pleasant way possible. His breath fluttered across her cheek. He smelled of vintage red wine, cool aftershave, and dark desire.
“Come back soon, Chloe.” His voice slid under the collar of her shirt and spread over her skin, sending tiny jolts sprinting to her sensitive areas. “I’m here every night.”
She stepped forward and his hold vanished. She didn’t look back. Didn’t dare.
Outside, the warm night air did nothing to cool the fever pitch of longing coursing through her body. A brisk walk, four blocks to the BART station, and the train ride home seemed to pass in seconds. Her appetite had dissolved. Her mind swam with flashes of those smoldering colorful irises, his chiseled jaw, and rock-hard body she wanted to do more with than just smudge.
Chloe. The rumble of her name in his voice caused another shiver.
Sure, they met because she face-planted on his shirt, but he’d continued their interaction. His interest in her seeming genuine.
Constantine Knight. Her tall, dark, and handsome stranger had an unusual and unforgettable name. A strong name. Just like the man.
Constantine. The name fluttered across her mind with the wings of a sleek, dark raven. Wasn’t that the name of an angel? The sexy man she met had a vibe more devilish than angelic.
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