I'm about to play along with this man who thinks he owns me since he bought me a drink, so I can plan an escape, when a rough, tattooed hand lands on the man's shoulder. The newcomer moves between us.

Ty.

I exhale in relief.

"This one is an employee," Ty growls, voice rumbling through the techno music.

The man scoffs. "She's wandered in off the street, you mean. Besides, employees don't accept drinks."

"You mean this drink?" Ty asks. He takes the gin and tonic—my gin and tonic—and slugs it back in one gulp. Grimacing, he continues. "Thanks. The next one is on me."

With a curt nod, Ty drags me off to the side, away from Mr. Hands-On who doesn't take no for an answer. I shiver, but not from cold.

Ty whirls on me as soon as we are alone, boxing me into a corner. I have that feeling again, the one of crossing a panther on the prowl, but this time, he's not out of place.

I am.

I'm most definitely out of my league in this club, out of my comfort zone, but he stalks through it as if it were a deadly jungle, and he reigns as king.

In a dark, fitted T, his ropey muscles ripple as he crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," I say, angry at his attack. He was my hero two seconds ago. "Do you have any idea how noisy it is downstairs? I needed a drink, but I don't have any money."

He pauses, taking me in, considering my words. "And Devon's fully stocked wet bar in the office didn't have anything to tempt you?"

At the words tempt you, I sense something changes in him. He's moved closer to me, his frame is both more tense, ready for action, but turned fully towards me.

Heat stirs in my cheeks, and flows downwards, warming my chest and pooling lower, between my legs. I'm hyper conscious of my breasts that are only covered by thin silk. At that thought, my nipples peak.

He notices.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I just wanted to have some fun for a change."

"If you wanted fun, you shouldn't have signed the contract."

"Too late for that, but I won't let it stop me from having a good time."

"You should have taken me up on my offer to talk, because it means exactly that. Devon won't trust any men from outside around you. Your life belongs to this club now."

There's a lot there to unpack, but I pick up on a detail. "Outside?"

He hitches his chin towards the club. "Any of them, in here, out there. And those of us on the inside, the ones who belong to Stay Gold, too, well, there's one rule we never break."

"What rule is that?" My hand has strayed to his chest without me realizing it.

We both notice at the same time.

He glances down, and it's too late for me to take it off him. He is warm under the soft cotton of his tee-shirt. There is a faint odor of smoke, danger about him, mixed with spices—bergamot, citrus, something darkly masculine.

"The rule not to touch the women who work with us. It's for their protection. The Stay Gold must always be a safe place, not even heartbreak is allowed in."

This piques my curiosity. It's not the first time this no-touching rule has been mentioned, and it makes me instantly want to test its limits. Would he resist me?

Was it fair for me to play this game?

I step closer.

"You never, ever break the rule?" My hand winds upwards to the bare skin of his neck. I trace the outlines of tattoo on his sensitive, smooth skin, along the spikes of some strange creature, hidden by the tee.

He freezes for a second, letting me touch him.

Then, in a sudden movement, he has me around the waist and he lifts me high, only to set me immediately on the ledge of the wall behind me, at bar-table height. He's wedged between my knees before I even realize what's going on.

As tall as he is, he's nearly eye-level with me like this. He scoots my ass on the ledge closer to him, widening my legs, until I'm nearly pressed to the firm planes of his abdomen.

Gripping my hips, he growls at me. "You want the truth about the rules? About this club? Or do you just want to break everything you can, in order to get some revenge?"

I gasp. He's right. I want to break this place.

But mostly, I want to break Devon for leading the gang, for being the first and loudest one saying Keith died in an accident. I don't think Devon or any of the guys here hurt Keith—I can't believe that. But they are lying.

And I want to tear this place to pieces the way my life fell apart, while they were building their business on its ashes.

To get what I want, I'll have to be a bad, bad girl, breaking my own rules, too. My back arches slightly, lifting my breasts. Suddenly I want to be touched, I need it.

My mouth waters at the thought of how bad I could be, if I just let go. My fingers waltz over Ty's shoulders and across the top of his wide, hard back. Music pulses through me, fast as my heart, throbbing in my bones, egging me on.

Do it, it whispers.

Beyond us, on the dance floor bodies entwine and gyrate, moving to the strident, insistent beat that vibrates through me. I want to be a part of that dance. Move and entwine, pulse to that rhythm devouring my will to resist.

*** ONC 920 word count. Hit the star and thank you for reading!!! ***