⚠️ This chapter contains non-explicit scenes of unwanted physical contact. Reader discretion advised.

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Bass slammed into my eardrums like a personal grudge, but after years of haunting this place, I barely flinched.

Sitting on a barstool, I hugged an empty tray tight to my chest as both my thumbs typed swiftly on my phone.

[Aiden • 11:42 PM] cant go home rn. working

[landlord • 11:43 PM] I've been waiting in front of your door for several hours now, better show up before I destroy your shit!!!!!!!

[Aiden • 11:43 PM] whoa calm down gramps. balance will git paid fs jus go to sleep alr? tmrw morning il buy u ur fave coffee nd pay you in full, deal?

The landlord left me on read. Although I tried to sound optimistic, I couldn't help but worry about my balance, three months behind on rent.

I sighed.

I had nothing left to sell, and my brother’s meds were running out.

It wouldn't surprise me if I ended up on the streets.

A tap on my shoulder broke my thoughts. Behind me, I saw my workmate, Dalton.

"Whad'ya want?" I brushed his fingers off.

"A customer asked you to clean their table."

I just raised both of my eyebrows at him—not saying anything back.

But he didn't budge. He stayed and rolled his eyes.

"Aiden—" he pulled me off the barstool and made me stand on my feet. "Room 4."

My mind cursed him for being so naggy, but I gave up and went anyway.

While weaving through the tables, dodging elbows and trays, people kept calling me—asking for drinks, cleaning, and even for Dalton's number.

I was everyone's favorite errand boy tonight. Nights like this always blurred together—faces, noise, lights, all the same. Maybe that's why I noticed things I shouldn't.

I groaned at the sight of people eating each other's faces, but I couldn't look away—the sight oddly amused me every time.

But then, something gleaming made me stop, behind an oblivious couple grinding against each other with their eyes closed.

I cracked my knuckles and felt the pull of temptation—wanting to look away from a half-empty lip gloss lying on their table.

The club was dark, save for the lasers and the disco ball. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, but they all seemed to be doing their own thing.

If I were the owner, I’d have put it in my bag—so really, I wasn’t stealing. I was teaching them a lesson.

I inhaled, picked up the pace, and smoothly swiped the lip gloss as I passed.

I got it, and no one noticed.

Lightness surged through me... But the high never lasts. It never does.

By the time I reached Room 4, shame had already climbed back into me.

Staring at the lip gloss in the light, I cursed. By the looks of it, this isn't anything cheap.

It's Dior. I don't even need this. Why did I take it?

I rubbed my thumb against my palm as if I could scrub the sin off of me, grinding my teeth together like it could turn back time.

No matter how hard I try, I can't stop.

And I hated that. I hated being a kleptomaniac.

I tossed it to the corner and fixed myself, curling my hand to knock at the door... but then—it opened before I could even touch it.

A tall guy leaned against the door frame as if he'd been expecting me. A glass of whiskey dangled from his hand, while his black tank stretched across his wide chest. His messy brown bangs half-veiled his clean brows, one of which arched in quiet amusement.

He locked those deep brown eyes onto my blue ones as his faint vanilla scent slipped into my nose.

I looked away, checking for clutter or company inside the room, but before I could look longer, he shifted, and his broad shoulders filled the doorway as he leaned against the frame.

"Eyes on me," he murmured, then tipped back his glass in one swallow.

I looked around, waiting for someone else to laugh. No one did—just him, me, and that heavy, lust-soaked air.

"How about you move? I've got work to do." I shot back, not even pretending to be polite.

He gave a sly nod and stepped aside, ushering me inside the dim, red-lit room.

I was expecting to see a mess on the table, but it was all perfectly fine except for the wet puddle of condensation from the bowl of ice.

I reached for a rag to wipe it when the click of the lock made my shoulders stiffen.

He dropped onto the sofa, proudly manspreading as his head tipped back, exposing his throat.

"Sexy."

I stopped. "What?"

A mischievous smirk tugged at his lips. He shook a bundle of cash in his hand. "Tip?"

My attention went straight to it. I didn't hesitate. He sat as if he knew exactly how badly I wanted them.

I stopped in front of him and reached.

But before I could grab it, he stood up in one smooth motion, lifting the cash above his head.

He stood about three inches taller than I, and no matter how I strained, I couldn't reach it.

"A–a–ah~." He wagged a finger close to my face. Something in his grin made my gut twist. "You think you deserve this after just wiping the table?"

It was too late when I noticed his arms snaking around my waist. I lost my balance as I tried to avoid his touch.

Before I could step back, he caught my wrist and pulled. My knees hit his thigh, knocking the air out of me; the next thing I knew, I was in his lap.

His face burrowed against my neck. I winced, fighting the urge to gag at how close he pressed.

My hands fumbled against him, trying to create even an inch of space.

The music from the club was fading into a dull hum behind my skull as I tried to overpower him and escape from his crushing grip.

But then, my eyes caught a flash of metal far behind him—a shiny lighter.

Any sane person would've screamed, but sanity doesn't stand a chance against habit.

I gritted my teeth while I reached for "my" lighter without a thought. Our bodies pressed even more, and I could've sworn I heard him moan.

His hands landed on my waist, trying to sit me back down.

"Relax, angel. I'm all yours tonight." His fingers touched my neck, pulling me closer as if my movement pleased him.

His head slid lower, from my neck to my chest. Then, he bit my fucking nipple.

"Get the fuck away!" My hands flew to his hair—pulling his scalp until his neck bent backward. He responded with a groan, catching my hands and pushing me back onto the sofa.

He hovered over me; our noses brushed against each other. No one talked or reacted. And it was as if he were waiting for my next move.

I scoffed. "Money's just for show, huh? I'd have gone straight to the police and filed a complaint against you." 

"Probably would've gotten more from the compensation."

His grip on my wrists tightened. I yelped.

"It wasn't just for show." One of his hands glided, tracing my body as he reached for my thigh. He caressed me with his huge hand, lifting my leg, wrapping it around his waist.

His collar pressed against my nose, his sweet scent making it hard to believe this was real.

He nibbled on me, kissing the side of my head.

My cheeks burned. He touched the most sensitive parts of me, and I could feel my body reacting. I hated this, but I hated considering him even more.

Should I just? I mean, I'd have a lot of chances to swipe his lighter if we did.

"Fine. Do you want me?" I asked. 

He nodded with his face buried in my hair.

"Would you give me everything in your wallet then?" He nodded again.

I lifted his face with both of my hands so I could see him. His gaze was clouded as he sucked his lower lip.

Then, I pulled him into a kiss. It wasn't anything romantic. It was something that would only last for a night. My hand slid under his top, and I felt the subtle definition beneath his shirt.

When we pulled away, he gave me a peck on my lips before asking, "You're thin, you sure you wouldn't snap in half?" His hand grabbed my ass. "Can you handle me?"

My eyes widened. The high vanished instantly.

"Wait—you're on top?" I stammered. His hold tightened on my legs as he leaned closer.

"What's the problem with that?"

I gulped. I should've left while I still could, but I didn't.