“Exactly, but I’ve been there and done that. No, thank you. Man or woman doesn’t matter. Ian is mine and only mine.”

“So, what about you? Did he like the idea of a woman touching you?”

“Yeah, but it was just the heat of the moment,” she dismissed.

“You know, you could always talk to Daniel and see if he could set up a special scene for you two?”

She paused, a small smile creeping along her lips. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Babe,” Ian called from the kitchen. “The oven is beeping.”

Carina rolled her eyes. “Is there a fantasy at Voyeur that he can turn off the timer and pull the food out of the oven?”

“I mean…Daniel should at least try and create one. Women would be lining up.”

We both laughed and headed to the kitchen toward the group of men.

Toward Mr. Arrogant and Sexy.

And conceited, I reminded myself. Focus on the most likely inflated ego.

I hung on the edge of the kitchen, sipping my wine, wanting to observe instead of putting myself to the test under the fire of his gaze. But luck wasn’t on my side because as soon as Carina interrupted their man-talk, he turned, zeroing in on me.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, but I ignored them, offering the same cold stare from earlier. In return, he offered the same smirk.

On cue, my nipples pebbled. Traitors.

Thank goodness for spilling coffee on my blouse this morning, forcing me to wear a thick enough sweater to hide my arousal.

He’d taken one step, his intent to prowl closer to his prey, when Brianna came back, intercepting his attack. His gaze bounced between me and her. His struggle to be polite but continue on his path was cute. So cute that I couldn’t help but allow a barely there smile to curl my lips. Allowing a slight raise of my brow in victory before turning away to claim my seat at the dinner table.

He had a woman for the night practically begging for him to fuck her. Leaving me free to enjoy my meal in peace.

Or so I thought.

2. Amara

Chapter 2

Amara

“Is this seat taken?”

I looked up, up, up past the sharp line of his clean-shaven jaw and into the shadowy blue depths of his eyes. Shocks of energy zipped down my spine to my core, and I struggled to remain aloof.

“Unfortunately, not.”

“Good,” he responded joyfully. As if I begged him to sit beside me, he pulled the chair out and made himself comfortable. “We didn’t get to properly meet earlier. I’m—”

I whipped around, giving him my full attention. “I really don’t care who you are. I don’t plan on being some lucky woman for you to fuck, so let’s not waste time.”

Most men shriveled at that point. Or snapped at the blatant rejection.

But this man? He smiled. Actually, fucking smiled.