Alan had always trusted his instincts—until tonight.
The man across the bar looked like trouble wrapped in silk: sharp suit, slow smile, and eyes that carried the weight of someone who’d seen too much and gotten away with all of it. Alan didn’t know his name, didn’t know why he couldn’t look away, but when that gaze landed on him, it was like being chosen.
He shouldn’t have let the stranger buy him a drink. He shouldn’t have leaned in when their shoulders brushed. Yet every word the man spoke was dipped in something dangerous, every glance daring him to step closer to a line he couldn’t even see.
Alan laughed when he should have walked away. He answered questions he should never have entertained. And when the man’s hand finally lingered at the small of his back, guiding him with effortless possession, Alan didn’t resist.
He didn’t know what he was getting himself into—only that the heat in the stranger’s eyes promised both ruin and ecstasy.
