No, she had been that kind of woman. Now she was different, and she needed. Needed to forget who she was and just feel.
Can’t work the cases. Can’t sleep at night. Can’t even close my eyes without remembering…
Sam took a deep breath.
Forget.
Right then, she’d do just about anything to forget.
Sam had left the crime scene hours before. When she’d gotten back to her place, the invitation to this expensive party had been waiting on her porch, courtesy of her meddling mother. The woman thought Sam might find a potential mate at one of these boring society gigs.
Sam didn’t want a mate. She just wanted a screw. Hot sex. Hard and wild. And she knew the perfect man to give her everything she needed.
Her perfect man stood across the room from her, separated by the crush of bodies. The party was too hot and too noisy by far with the fake laughter and high voices and the people who were pretending to be interested in each other.
Pretending. She was so sick of pretending.
Sam snagged a drink off a waiter’s tray. She downed the champagne in two gulps and pushed her way toward her target.
He’d know who she was. Sam didn’t doubt that. Well, he’d better know.
They’d had sex two weeks ago. Sex that had left her sore and aching and satisfied. Satisfied—for a time.
Until she’d wanted more.
She really hoped that the guy remembered her.
She sure remembered him.
Max Ridgeway. Tall, dark, and sexy. The man who’d made her come in two minutes. The man who’d made her scream.
The man who’d turned her on to casual sex.
Max was lover number three in her lifetime, not that he knew that. She’d been sure to play the game. After all, she could pretend, too. She’d acted cool and confident and made sure that she didn’t screw things up.
“You.” His voice, deep and rumbling, caught her, and she looked up to see him striding toward her.
Game face, girl. Get it on. Sam lifted her chin and let her lips curl into a smile that was as fake as all the others in the room. Forget. Forget everything but him.
Why try to pick up someone else when he was there? He’d be all she needed. He’d be…
Hot enough to banish the chill from her body.
Max caught her wrist and pulled her close. All around them, men stood in their perfect tuxedos and women smiled in their designer dresses. A high-end party. One packed with people who had too much money and too much alcohol.
His face—really not handsome, but sexy, so sexy—leaned in close to hers. At six foot three, Max was big and muscled with skin tanned a light brown. His midnight black hair curled just a little too long over the back of his collar.
The first time she’d seen him, she’d known that he would be the one for her. She’d gone into the bar, taken one look, and picked the strongest man in the place.
“You left without a damn word.”
Huh. Anger hummed in his words. She wet the lips that she’d carefully painted for tonight. Part of the mask. Normally, she didn’t give a damn about makeup.
She’d come to this party for one reason. Him. She wanted more.
“I’m here now.” She rose onto her toes and whispered the words close to his mouth.
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Baby, your timing is shit.”
Sam almost smiled. Would have, if she’d been a different woman. Instead, she blinked at him, not just because she was trying to appear cool but because the contacts in her eyes were driving her crazy.
“I came to find you,” she told him and thought about kissing him. But no, not yet.
“And I f**king looked for you.”
Now she was surprised. She’d figured that the guy would just move on to the next woman on his list.
“Come with me.” His grip on her wrist was almost bruising. Almost, because Max knew his strength. When he started walking, shouldering through the crowd, she followed because she wanted out of there.
A few moments later, his left hand slammed against the glass door, sending it swinging open, and then they were outside on the balcony. The crisp air of late autumn cooled her body. Max kicked the door shut behind them and finally, finally, the noise was gone.
It was just them.
“When you approached me in the bar, you didn’t know who the hell I was, did you?” A lamp shone down on him and revealed the faint lines near his blue eyes. The light cast a dark shadow behind him, making him seem even bigger.
Anger had thickened in his voice. What, couldn’t the guy just enjoy the sex like she had? What was the big deal? Sam forced a shrug, letting one shoulder rise and fall. Max still had her wrist, and she could feel the rough calluses on his fingertips. Not born into money, not this man. And when she’d seen him the first night in that bar, wearing his faded jeans and beat-up jacket, she hadn’t thought—
“You ran when you woke up and realized just whose bed you were in.”
She hadn’t exactly been concentrating on her surroundings when he took her home. Sam had been busy yanking off his clothes. But with the harsh light of morning, she’d seen…
The picture of his stepfather on the mantle. A man she’d met before. A man her own mother had dated once upon a time.
“You just introduced yourself as Max.” Her voice came out husky. Not deliberate that. But his eyes—such a bright blue—narrowed, and she heard the rasp of his breath.
“And you’re Samantha,” he said.
First names—that was all you were supposed to need for casual sex, right? “I am.”
“What do you want from me?” he demanded as he trapped her against the brick wall to the right of the door. So warm, oh, his flesh seemed to burn hers. She could feel the thick length of his arousal pressing against the front of her dress. A short, skimpy dress that she’d found buried in the back of her closet.
“I want more.” The truth. She could give him that much.
A growl rumbled in his throat.
“I don’t care that you’re rich.” Yes, let’s just put that out there. She hadn’t run because of his money. Hadn’t gone to him for that and hadn’t run away because of it. She’d left because the night was over. “I don’t want forever.” The fake promises of happily-ever-after wouldn’t suit her.
His fingers freed her wrist and wrapped around her waist. “What do you want?”
My life back.
She pushed her hand between their bodies and let her fingers rest over his racing heart. “I told you…. more.” Sex. Passion.