SEDUCED BY THE STRANGER (Dirty Little Secrets, #1) by Alex Elliott Page A

drink? Can’t hurt,” I say in response to the proposition of doing another shot of pretty-colored liquor. We’ve done everything from Alabama Slammers, a round of fireballs to flaming B-52's, and fine. One more.
    Brooke orders singles this time. “Anyone up for a bump?” She pulls out a vial of coke, but I shake my head.
    We’re seated upstairs, overlooking the dance floor in a club her uncle owns. Wall-to-wall people crowd the place with a line outside, and security up the wazoo. Techno thunders from the speakers, and I can’t resist tapping my foot.
    “Isn’t that George Clooney?” Rowena asks, pointing to a man with an attractive woman.
    “Yep. And his new wife,” I reply. “God, what a catch. Funny and handsome.”
    Katrina pulls my hand and shouts, “Xavia! Come dance with me!”
    I shift my focus to the dance floor, then pensively glance over at my friend. “If you promise not to step on my toes.” I raise the shot glass placed in front of me.
    “Deal,” she replies.
    “To getting laid.” Brooke clinks my glass, then I tap everyone else’s before tossing back the shot.
    Both Kat and I rise on heels that should come with a warning against drinking and dancing.
    “This is my favorite song!” she declares.
    “You’ve said that at least three times,” I admonish her but laugh as we descend the stairs, and blow through the crowd toward the dance floor.
    Four of us flew down to New York for the weekend. We’re hanging out in Brooke’s dad’s brownstone, clubbing all night, and I don’t care that within the last two days, I’ve downed several liters of alcohol. It’s June, classes are over, I’m twenty-four, and for once, I’m not going to sit and worry about my future. Not when there’s a bounty of handsome men around who smile at me, beguiling enough to make even me believe that I could do something crazy...say, ditch my friends in a New York City second, and lose myself.
    When in Rome—am I right?
    The men giving me a once over have no idea who I am, and don’t frigging care! That’s why I love escaping Boston and getting lost.
    “We’re almost sprinting!” I shout.
    “Don’t want to miss the best part.” Katrina doesn’t stop until we’re out in the middle of the dance floor. Soon afterward, she’s sandwiched between two guys and shouts, “Come join us!”
    “I’m good.” I close my eyes. This is what it’s like to be free! I lift my arms, swivel my hips, the music blaring all around...and when I open my eyes, I see him. From flying high, I’m tumbling fast.
    My brain sizzles.
    I stare across the dance floor at a man. More like some mythical hunter... Orion.
    I shiver from his power. Projected. It’s his eyes.
    Brighter than exploding twin stars.
    They consume me.
    Obliterate my next thought and the one after that one.
    I swallow, and gather he’s not just some run-of-the-mill handsome hunk. He’s got this stare that slices through the bodies gyrating next to me, and right into the center of my being. I want to look away—Christ, I tell myself—look the hell away...but I can’t. Instead of being mortified that Mr. Gorgeous is staring holes in me, I’m excited. He’s seated maybe twenty feet away, behind the cordoned off VIP area at a table with three other men—all of them in suits. He doesn’t seem to be focused on their animated conversation. No, he’s zoning in on one target...me.
    He lifts a glass to his mouth, and over the rim, he watches me dance. There’s something so familiar about him. No way could I have met him at one of my family’s parties. He’s not only gorgeous—there’s an intensity about him. Proof that I’m caught in a mind-screw-fest as I dance for him—nearly a whole song.
    Mesmerized, I let go as though I know what he wants. I don’t feel cheap or sleazy—he makes me want to be daring. Provocative. And in return, I want to tempt him like he’s tempting me. Trailing my fingers down my breasts, I alternate rotating my shoulders