Curiosity edges out my better judgment. “How long will you be in town?”
“For good,” she says, surprising me with the defiance in those big blue eyes. “I left my job, left my cheating ex-boyfriend, packed everything I owned, and here I am.”
Damn.
Macey worked as a newscaster for a Latin TV station in Miami. She double-majored in Spanish and journalism in college, earning both degrees ahead of schedule. She’s smart and driven, and ambitious. Which is why it surprises me to hear her say she’s just thrown in the towel on it all.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It explains the sadness radiating from her that I picked up on earlier. “So, what’s on your agenda now, other than the hot, sweaty pounding you mentioned?”
Looking up at me through her eyelashes, she murmurs, “Why don’t you finish that drink first, and I’ll tell you.”
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the erotic atmosphere that has loosened her up, but she’s more carefree now, becoming positively playful. “Are you trying to get me liquored up, Macey?”
“And what if I was?” A slow, sassy smile uncurls on her mouth.
Holy fuck. This girl is going to be trouble; I can tell in an instant. The flirting. The drinks. She’s trying to push me into action. Topping from the bottom.
So Macey wants a big bad Dom to show her the ropes? I should paddle her ass for showing up here tonight. But this can’t be like six years ago where I lose my shit completely, only to have her waltz out of town again when the next opportunity pops up.
Chapter Two
Macey
God, I hate how seeing Reece transports me right back to that shy eighteen-year-old girl I once was—the one who fell hard and fast for her older brother’s best friend, only to have him suddenly end things right before I left for college. Back then, the naive me wanted to tell him everything, to admit the extent of my feelings and then come clean to my brother about my relationship with Reece. I wanted to take things to the next level, one that existed in the light of day instead of sneaking around behind closed doors.
Of course, none of that happened because he broke things off before I ever got the chance. The heartache wasn’t as bad as losing my parents, but it was damn close. Reece meant everything to me back then.
I spent my whole first semester at college floating around in a fog. That’s what led me to double majoring. I filled my schedule so completely I had no time to sit around and feel sorry for myself. And I guess it worked because I eventually got over Reece, graduated early and with honors, and then moved on and dated other men. It all felt like I was just going through the motions, but somehow the years passed and I moved on.
But as I look up into his hungry dark eyes, I know none of it is true. Apparently I’ve never really moved on at all, because when things in my life fell apart again, he’s the one I ran to.
I knock back my drink in a single gulp, because heaven help me, I need some brass lady balls for what I’m about to do. It’s a new year and a fresh start for me, and I’m grabbing what I want and running with it. No regrets. Life’s too damn short.
Showing up on New Year’s probably wasn’t my smartest move. Of course, my brother is out somewhere, probably drunk or worse after what that skank of an ex-fiancée did to him. So that left me with staying with either Nana or Reece. And considering I didn’t want to wake up an eighty-year-old woman, I typed Reece Jackson into Google and closed my eyes, praying for a search result and that he was home tonight.
What I got instead shook me to my core. Apparently, twenty-seven-year-old Reece Jackson is the multimillionaire owner of Chicago’s hottest underground sex club. I never would have pegged him for a Dominant, but it makes sense. He’s always been intense and demanding. I just can’t believe Cameron never mentioned it all the times I asked about Reece.
He’s even more devastatingly handsome than I recall. He’s tall, masculine, and extremely fit. His dark hair is cut short, with just enough to grab onto. He still has the features I remember, but now they seem more refined. Some things are definitely new, though. Dark tattoos hidden behind the sleeve of his shirt, circling his wrist, suggest a sleeve decorating his arm. I want to see more. He never had a single tattoo when I knew him. He’s the man I measured all others against, and the reason no one has ever measured up.
Reece lifts his drink to his mouth and looks at me over the rim of the glass. I know he’s noticed me checking him out, but he doesn’t call me out. “You want to talk about the ex-douche?” he asks, his voice a harsh growl.
“Tony?” I snort. “Not particularly.”
“Humor me, Pancake. I need to understand this.”