Hell, I knew I should’ve stayed home and dyed my hair today, I’m even annoying myself.

Standing, Rachel excused herself and made her way down the hall to the bathroom. As she passed a room that Shelly must have converted into what now looked like an office and gym, Rachel smiled and moved across the space to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

This is what I need installed in my place. The only problem was that she didn’t own her place. She rented, so bolts in her ceiling beams were not allowed.

Turning to leave for the bathroom, she walked past the old desk in the corner and happened to glance down. There, sitting on the desk, was an official-looking piece of paper that had Mitchell & Madison, Attorneys at Law written across the top.

Cole.

Rachel felt her pulse accelerate as if he were in the room with her. Gingerly, she let her fingers creep onto the paper as she pulled it closer to the edge of the desk. Ignoring the contents beneath the header, she peered at the writing across the top, focusing on the address and phone number printed boldly under the firm’s name.

Before she could even think about it, she took out her phone and snapped a picture of the letterhead. She dashed out of the office, ran straight into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. Moving to the edge of the tub, she sat and stared at the number.

It’s Sunday. He wouldn’t be there today. Would he? What if he is?

Quickly, she dialed the number before she could change her mind. After three rings, just as she suspected, a recorded message came over the line.

“Hello. You have reached the law office of Mitchell & Madison, and we are currently closed. If this is an emergency, you can reach Logan Mitchell at 312-555-1467 or Cole Madison at 312-555-7173. Thank you, and have a good day.”

Rachel hung up and stared at the phone. She thought about what she was going to do for less than two seconds before she hit redial. She quickly typed the digits following Cole’s name into her contacts. After she ended the call this time, she stared at his number like it would bite her.

Should I or shouldn’t I?

Oh, what the hell.

* * *

Cole was halfway home from Lake Forest when his phone began ringing, the sounds coming through his car speakers. Glancing at the display, he didn’t recognize the 773 area code number offhand. Pressing the button on his steering wheel, he was about to answer as a car cut in front of him.

“Jesus!” he cursed as he slammed on the brakes.

He noticed there was silence in the vehicle, and he realized no one had said anything on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. Hello?”

More silence. “Hello?” he greeted again.

That was when the call ended.

He stopped at a red light and decided to call the number. With the unprofessional way he had answered, maybe the caller hadn’t realized it was him. As the call connected, he waited for a greeting. When nothing came, he decided to speak up. “Hello, this is Cole Madison. You just called me. I wasn’t sure if you had the wrong number.”

The light turned green, and he slowly pushed his foot on the accelerator, letting his Peugeot purr as it began to move.

“It’s Rachel.”

Immediately, his eyes glanced at the number on the display. Rachel? Well, now, isn’t this interesting?

“Hello, Rachel.” Tapping his finger on the steering wheel, Cole finally cleared the traffic and let the car power forward. “Rachel? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, like she was annoyed that she was.

Cole couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at her tone. “Okay, I was just checking. This is a surprise. How did you get my number?”

“Do you really care?”

“No, not really. But you don’t seem to be saying much, so I thought I should fill the silence.”

“With questions you don’t really care about?”

“Well, it was that or ask you why you are calling, but I’ve figured out that answer already.”

He thought he heard her scoff softly before she spoke again.

“Oh? And why did I call you?”

Surprised at the feeling of satisfaction he felt at that moment, Cole replied, “Because you want to ask me something obviously.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh, come on, Rachel. I hardly think you hunted down my number to make sure I got home alright after Thursday night. It’s Sunday. That’s a wide window of time for something to have happened to me.”

“Okay, you’re right. I didn’t even think about you after you left Thursday night.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

Cole chuckled. “Did you just stick out your tongue as well? You’re lying, Rachel, but that’s okay. You’ll tell me the truth soon enough, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

* * *

Oh hell. This man was god-knows-where, and he had her locked in a bathroom with her hand pressed between her denim-clad legs.

“And how do you plan to do that?” she whispered, surprising herself by how much she wanted to know.

“Rachel, I am not going to sit in my car and talk you into an orgasm. If you wait and show me that you have some kind of self-discipline, I’ll give you one in person.”

Immediately, she removed her hand. She clenched her teeth and shook her head. She hated that she was already doing what he asked.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she questioned as she clutched the phone tightly.

“No, I don’t think so. Are you?”

“No, I’m not, but you promised not to touch me.”

During the silence that followed, she felt her heart start to thump faster with each second she waited. One, two, three, and then his voice slid through the phone with a carnal promise.

“I don’t need to touch you to make you come, Rachel. You have hands, don’t you? Just wait, so I can watch. Tonight at ten. I’ll see you where we first met.”

She was about to reply, but as her mouth parted, the call ended.

Then, there was a loud banging on the bathroom door.

“Rachel! You okay in there?”

She jumped up as though her ass was on fire. Clutching the phone to her pounding chest, she moved to the door and unlocked it to find Shelly standing in front of her, her brow arched.

“Yep, I’m great. Look, I’ve got to run,” Rachel said quickly as she brushed past Shelly.

She briskly walked through the hallway into the living room. Rachel picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and then waved to everyone before she headed to the front door.

“Rach, wait up!” Mason called to her as he got off the couch.

He followed her out the door to the elevator. Pressing the button, she looked up at her brother and tried for a genuine smile. It was best not to let him see the holy-shit feelings currently pumping throughout her entire body.

“Rach? What the hell?” Mason asked, stopping beside her. “You’ve been acting so strange lately. Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, I know things have been stressful, but…well, you’re acting a little more—”

“A little more what, Mase? Crazy? Harebrained?”

Shaking his head, he reached out and pulled her into a hug. “No, none of that. You just seem so different lately. I can’t put my finger on it. Even your usual crazy has been different.”

Leaning back, Rachel looked up at him and patted his chest. He smoothed a comforting hand down her hair and picked up the ends.

“What color is this going to be tomorrow?”

Without missing a beat, she told him, “Red streaks.”

When the elevator arrived, Mason reluctantly released her. “That’s a vivid choice.”

Stepping into the empty space, Rachel hit the lobby button and wiggled her brows. “I’m feeling particularly daring. See you tomorrow, Mase.”

“Night, Rach. Be careful.”

As the doors swooshed closed, she promised, “Always.”

* * *

It was nine fifty in the evening, and Rachel was exactly where she had been the first time she had met Cole at the bar in Whipped.

After rushing home from Josh and Shelly’s, she had spent the afternoon dyeing her hair. She loved the final look. Throughout her black hair, chunks of red were loud and flashy. It reflected the way she was feeling right now.

Rachel had pulled her hair back into a sleek tight ponytail. She had a deep crimson gloss on her lips with smoky dramatic eyes to match. All afternoon, she had debated on what she would wear to meet up with Cole again.

Do I want to make him work for it? Or do I want this to be an easy conquest?

In the end, she had decided on her black leather miniskirt with the silver zipper that ran from top to bottom in the center, and she had paired it with a red-and-black lace corset.

Sure, the outfit was minimal, but in the end, it gave off the right message. What exactly is that message? Well, that’s easy.

You think you can keep your hands off this, Cole? Prove it.

* * *

The minute he stepped into the club, Cole let his eyes move over the sea of people. It was amazing how not one of them even registered as being worth his time. Focused on one thing only, he searched for the reason he was here tonight.

He moved deeper into the main crush, and that was when he spotted her. He thanked every fucking entity he could think of because she was standing there, expecting him. The alternative would have been to just drag her off somewhere and introduce himself in the most intimate way imaginable. His tongue in her mouth came to mind.

That wasn’t necessary though because the woman standing at the bar with her elbows resting on it was staring directly at him. Like a magnet, her smoky eyes pulled him through the gyrating bodies until he reached the other side. He was now only steps away from her. Letting his eyes run down over her, Cole had to consciously hold himself back. The woman standing in front of him was just his type. And I plan to show her I am hers. The only thing that would have made the situation better was if everyone in the room would get the fuck out.

She was dressed in the same tiny black skirt she had been wearing the first time he had seen her and a corset that looked more like an expensive piece of lingerie.

She seems to like those.

That wasn’t what was killing him though. Around her neck was a pretty little piece of black satin. She had tied it into a small bow, making a choker out of it.

Fuck.

Clenching his hands by his sides, he finally brought his eyes back to her provocative stare. That was when she arched an insolent brow, like she wasn’t affected by him at all, and then she turned to face the bar, giving him a fantastic view of her backside. Her long legs were encased in sheer black stockings with a bold seam running up the center of each leg and ending somewhere beneath the skirt that was barely covering her ass.

Moving up beside her, Cole rested his arms on the surface of the bar and turned to face her. If she wants to play games, then let the games begin.

* * *

Rachel was trying to regain her composure.

Watching Cole stalk through the crowd toward her while she remained where she was, trying to appear cool, calm, and collected, had taken every ounce of her concentration and willpower.

All black. He was dressed in all black, and when contrasted with that sexy blond hair, the impact was so effective that Rachel had to remind herself not to beg him to take her.

Turning to face him, she saw he was resting against the bar, staring at her. As their eyes collided, she felt the thrill of anticipation zing up her spine. Without a word, he moved closer, trailing a finger along the cool surface. It drew her eyes, distracting her, just as he knew it would.

He moved to stand behind her, and without touching an inch of her skin, he spoke clearly and concisely into her ear. “Come.”

Rachel turned her head as he moved away from her. Narrowing her eyes, she watched him walk around the bar without a backward glance. Taking a deep breath, she tried to gather her wits as she followed. She rounded the end of the bar and saw the corridor that led down to the private rooms at Whipped. Although she’d known about the rooms, she had never been in them.

Do I really want this? Do I even know what the hell I’m doing? This all started from what? Fear and boredom. I’m not sure I’m ready for someone like him.