I slowly lean forward and grasp her shoulders, my face going straight to the smooth, olive skin of her cheek. I could get drunk on her scent alone. I feel her tensing under my touch, and I laugh on the inside. These hands, lady, will give you hours of pleasure. My mouth, my tongue, my cock.

“It’s a pleasure,” I whisper. It really fucking is. A very unexpected pleasure.

She moans, and I smile, easing up on my grip, lowering myself so I’m at her eye level. “Are you okay?” I can feel my lips curving into a smile as she lifts those stunning chocolate eyes to mine. I’m so fucking happy in this moment. And it’s . . . freeing, actually.

She suddenly seems to snap out of her trance and steps back, and my hands drop to my side. I inwardly pout. “Hi.” She virtually coughs it out. “Ava, my name is Ava.” She holds her hand out to me.

Her voice. Fuck me, I’m a goner. And I’m physically trembling. I really need to stop drinking. I take her hand and squeeze but pull away abruptly when I’m struck by an electric shock that flies up my arm and stabs at my heart, making it suddenly buck wildly.

What the fuck was that?

Dazed and massively confused, I repeat her name, it falling naturally from my lips, no other words coming to me. Oh Jesus, I need to be shouting that when I’m hammering into her. I want to make her scream, claw at me, bite me. She’s just staring at me—this painfully beautiful young woman is staring at me, and for once in my fucking life, I’m stumped. No words. But plenty of thoughts.

I need to offer her a membership. She can have it for free. My heart is booming for the first time in years. Is it excitement? Anticipation? I don’t know, but I tell you what I do know . . .

I’ve never seen a woman so clearly. Never wanted one before I’ve had a drink. This woman though? It’s instant, uncontrollable attraction, and that is so very unfamiliar to me. So unfamiliar, in fact, I have absolutely no idea how to be.

“Yes. Ava.”

I shake myself out of my useless state as I step away, aware I’m crowding her. I’m not dealing with the kind of woman I’m used to. I also slip my hands in my pockets, restraining them. Everything feels out of control—my mind, my mouth, my body. “Thanks, John.” I glance across to him where he’s standing by the door, giving him a look that tells him I’m in unchartered territory. But he knows that. He knew it the moment he met Ava O’Shea at the door.

He smiles. Leaves.