PROLOGUE • PASSION WITH A DROP OF MARTINI

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J O D I E

FOUR YEARS AGO

FUTURE'S RICH $EX blasts around the bar as I nurse a glass of martini. I stare at the area leading to the restrooms and I laugh to myself. My friend Brittany is so hell bent on getting laid by a jock, a crazy hot one with a a dash of boyish cuteness by the name of Nick Stones. I look again and I see her walking out of the restrooms and heading for the doors with him behind her. But not before she turns and shoots me a wink. Yes, she's definitely getting laid tonight. I'm counting on it.

Nick Stones has a crazy hot friend too. He came by here a couple of moments ago and the first thing I noticed about him were his light hazel eyes, and the way they popped under the lights of the bar. He wore a black blazer with a plain white t-shirts and some dark pants. With this sharp jawline that could tear your fingers off in one swoop, dark olive skin and long fingers, adorned with silver rings scattered amongst them. And his chest, his white t-shirt did it absolutely no justice, and I'm not ashamed to admit that my first impulse was to grab him, shove him to a corner and just roam my hands around that chest.

Sue me. I'm a woman with eyes. And needs.

I'd admit, I've always been a rule follower. With an absentee mom and a deadbeat and verbally abusive father, I never had time to grow up. I was always following the rules, keeping my ass in line. And let's not forget letting some jock swipe my v-card in freshman year of college. Not very responsible? Try me.

But then again, I've never been one to act on my body's impulses, at least not always. And I'm definitely not shy, I'm just calculated, at least I guess. I look at the spot where a dark olive broad chested hazel was sitting, and I don't see him. It's them I feel the light brush against my arm, and a figure sitting next to me.

"Cielos," I try to catch my breath as his aura envelopes me. Good heavens. The bar lights definitely make those eyes pop. It's then I notice his long black waves of hair, like a horse's mane and the sudden urge to fist my fingers around them, while massaging his scalp envelopes me, heat pooling in the area below my lower abdomen.

"Amo i tuoi occhi," His rich deep accent drags me out of my haze and traps me underneath the piercing of his eyes. And now I have a much closer look at his long lashes, long enough that they curl at his eyelids, and his cologne, masculine, so minty and fresh, almost divine, unreal, that I just want to bask in it. I've heard enough languages to know that he just spoke in Italian, although I have no idea what it means. Or why it sounded so sexy.

I'm I breathing?

"Um........." I start but I trail off when someone else sits beside me, and shift in my seat, assessing my current situation. Rich accent hottie on my left, Ken doll look alike stranger on my right.

"Man, I'm a huggeeeeee fan, can I get your autograph, my teenage sister is a huge fan- and I mean, have-your-pictures-all-over-her-room-walls-fan, she will go nuts," Ken doll look alike gushes and rich accent hottie grins, pride glistening in those eyes. Ken doll look alike grabs a pen and notepad from his duffel and gives rich accent hottie to sign an autograph. Ken doll lookalike chooses now to look at me, finally noticing my existence.

"Die hard hockey fan?" I ask, my voice coming out a little low and husky, and I'm forced to clear my throat. At least I do it a little silently. Ken doll look alike smiles, and nods, ears turning red and eyes fluttering. Woah?

"Yeah," He answers, "You?" I swear I just saw him gulp.

"Not really, ice is not my thing, and I hate cold seasons so yeah," I grimace as a childhood memory washes all over me. It happens in a swift way. One second I'm with my friends and I fall and I sink onto the ice, and the next, I'm back at the bar, threading my fingers together.

"I'm Steven, welcome to Seattle, it's always cold," Ken doll look alike finally introduces himself.

"I'm Jo-"

"Here's your autograph," Rich accent hottie passes Steven's notepad to him and Steven nods, almost sharply as they access each other.

"How's the off-season going for you, man?" Steven asks Rich Accent Hottie.

"It's great," His voice sounds like waves on an ocean surrounded by a mountain, bouncing back and forth, producing a cool breezy sound. "Training, prepping, it's great," Those hazel eyes flicker to me and back to Steven.

"Congratulations on the Stanley Cup win, y'all earned it," Steven tells Rich Accent Hottie and he nods, and this time I don't see pride. I see a dash of happiness, joy and when those eyes stare at me, what I see in them makes me want to run for the hills. But I don't.

"Well I will get going," Steven grabs his duffel. He's two steps away when he turns, his eyes flickering between Rich Accent Hottie and me before he asks. "Didn't catch your name, beautiful,"

"Jodie," I smile a little and I swear I feel his stare on my back and goosebumps rise all over my shoulders. Steven smiles at me, walking away and I quickly look back to Rich Accent Hottie. And I can't look away. And I don't know why.

"Alex," he drawls and I hear the Italian in him, and I swear, I hear a little Puerto Rican. He just told me his name.

"Lex," I blurt out, and I swear that sounded like 'sex' to my ears. Holy Mary, Mother of God, SOS.

He studies me and his hands reach for me. His hands grab a couple of wavy curls and he toys with them, teasing them yet massaging them. I want to protest, but he looks so focused, and then he looks up at me, tucking a couple of locks behind my ear. I freeze when my face contacts with his long fingers, our eyes long and I shiver under the weight of his stare.

"Amo i tuoi occhi," He whispers the same words from a moment ago. And as desperate as I am to know the meaning, I suddenly prefer a little ignorance. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and our eyes are still locked on eachother.

"Marrone intenso," He whispers again, his intense eyes searching mine. He finally catches himself, and that's when he sighs, his hand retreating from my face.

"Forgive me," He says and I bite the side of my cheek to stop myself from smiling like a giddy idiot. What's happening to me? He raises a brow at me and I nod, unable to form words, unable to comprehend what the hell is happening between us. Electricity? Desire? Want?

"Jo," he whispers, and I feel his voice everywhere. He is everywhere. Around my ears, my shoulders, my abdomen and my lady garden.

I've never actually loved my name. Jodie Alba Henning. According to my mother, she gave me Jodie, and my gramps gave me Alba. And Henning, well, my deadbeat dad didn't want anyone finding out about me, so he just had the doctors write any surname that they could think of. Had my gramps named me, I would have been called Alba Fernández de Córdoba, but when I moved from my small town somewhere in El Paso to Seattle in Washington DC, I answered Jodie Henning, and that seemed to work just fine. No one figured out that I was a latina just by reading the first names in my file- well, until they saw me.

I am a beautiful woman with her own insecurities. My hair is long and thick in a million curly waves. My full breasts started growing enormously when I was nine, and they've been growing more and more ever since. My hips are rounded, and my ass has its very fair share of tiger stripes, outlined all the way to my hip midsection, and my abdomen-my biggest insecurity- well, let's just say it folds a little when I sit. I love my body, most women get implants for what I've got- my huge rack and my bootie. I'm a solid 5'5 and I love my heels, boots and pumps.

I'm not exactly wearing "fuck me" material. I'm in a letter graffiti print dress that outlines all my curves and a pair of black sneakers. Yes, the night I decided to wear sneakers is the night I meet Lex. Does the universe hate me or love me? I have no idea.

"This is going to sound a bit weird," Lex chuckles, and I feel it everywhere- the huskiness, the warmth, the everything. I nod, urging him to continue. He gets closer to me, his lips next to my ear and his warm breath fanning my skin. "What's your middle name?"

"What's yours?" I throw back and my breath catches, my voice coming out the opposite way I intended.

"Intelligentone," He whispers, the word lingering on his tongue, and hanging between us as he pulls away from my ear, pinning me with the sexiest grin I have ever seen. And to my shock, he answers me.

"Mateo," the corners of his lips lift, curling into a small smile. It feels like my breath is knocked out of me. Mateo. Even his middle name sounds like desire lingering beneath the waves of a sexual ocean.

"Alba," I respond breathlessly, and then he's back to playing with the strands of my hair.

"Alba," he whispers, his eyes deep in thought and his lips pressing into a small grin. I lean closer and this time, he whispers against my lips. "Breaking dawn," He says the meaning of my name and the air between us cackles with more electricity. And I haven't even kissed him yet. Are we going to kiss? Our noses brush against each other, before he pulls away, his previous grin is gone, replaced by intense desire and pure need. He licks his lips, and suddenly, I feel a rush of need all over u body all the way to my toes. I want that tongue marking every inch of me. And I just know it- my panties are soaked.

"Bellissima," He mutters, another Italian, and I don't have the heart to ask him. I find it mysterious, enticing and slightly dangerous. And I love it. The sudden want for him to say more things in Italian rushes all over me, and I'm not in the slightest bit ashamed. "You stared a lot," he points out and I almost shrink. Of course he caught me staring.

"Well," I start, my brain looking for an explanation, anything, "You're a hockey player and you're probably the biggest person here, so yeah, I stared," I shrug nonchalantly, but I know I'm totally giving myself away. God help me. A deep rumble erupts from him and I fight the urge to grin, like the idiot I am. I just met him for God's sake, and he's been saying things I may have to Google translate when I get back to my apartment.

I finally look around me to find the bar empty. I grab my iPhone and I glance at the screen. 11:34pm, it reads. I've always managed to be at home before 10:00pm, but today, tonight seems different, slightly overwhelming, and I don't even want to go home. I want to stay here and admire his face, his jawline, his eyes, his long fingers- I want to stay under the sight of those hazel eyes. And for a fucking long time. Holy Mary Mother of God, help me.

"You might be a celebrity and all, but we're closed," a voice snaps me out of my sexual haze, and we both suck in a sharp breath, turning our gaze to the impatient bartender.

"Right, sorry," I apologize before Lex gets any word in, and I toss my bills on the table. My chest almost hurts and my heart beats so fast underneath his stare. It feels so good, so right, yet so dangerous. In my mind, I imagine myself kissing him, roaming my hands around that chest of his. I snap out of it, walking out of the bar without a look at him.

Control yourself, Alba.

I mentally caution my body. I'm only a few steps away, a minute away, when I hear footsteps behind me, followed by a voice that melts my panties in a second.

"Alba!" He yells and I freeze in my steps. I repeat a mantra in my head, 'don't turn around', but my body betrays me and I turn around. And even under the darkness, this man glows. "Jo," he whispers, coming closer to me. I'm not shaken, instead I brace myself for the sweet smell of his cologne. The urge to shove him against a wall and just feel him comes back in full force, and I can't seem to ignore it.

He leans into me, and our noses brush, only slightly. I shut my eyes, enjoying the feel of him. His arms wrap around my waist, and I'm enveloped in his warmth. His steady breath washes over me, goosebumps taking over every inch of my skin. And I melt. I just melt. My hands make their way, as they involuntarily roam around that chest. God. So firm, so built, almost surreal and yet so right. I don't even notice that he's watching me until I blink up at him, and I find those light hazel eyes boring their charm and spice inside of me. My hands roam more and more, until they make their way to his belt. We're in an alley, and I really don't care.

"Fanculo," he groans- a choked sound and he tilts my head to face him. He has a whole foot and probably more over me and so he towers me. He leans down, slowly, each movement a beg for my permission, which I nod to. And then he kisses me.

My imagination did this moment no justice. It's like a breath of fresh minty air, only this time with more exploration. It's a feeling no words can describe. It's like I've been dead but shocked back to life. It's not calculated, not greedy or selfish. It's a feeling beyond carnal satisfaction, as we both draw out our first moans together, against each other's lips. It's pure lust brought to reality, tried and true. It's a hungry kiss, like he's been dying to do this. Our tongues meet, and they twirl around each other, his grip on my waist tightens and I lean into him, my arms wrapping around his torso. I pant and moan into the kiss, and he does the same, the sound of his, deeper, throaty, and so fucking husky. He kisses me like he doesn't deserve me, he kisses like a prince, deprived of his soulmate, but finally meeting her and never wanting to let her go. We both draw in sharp breaths, the kiss deepening and an imaginary fire surrounding us. We're dancing to a tune, played by our souls, mine curious, his dangerous.

We pull away slowly, clinging to the almost magical feeling. He searches my eyes with his and his throat bobs. And for the first time tonight, his eyes flare with uncertainty, and a dash of nervousness.

"Where do you live?" He chokes out, high on adrenaline. Maybe I wasn't the only one feeling that. Maybe he felt it too.

"Two blocks away," I breathe, my voice coming out husky and needy.

"Need a ride?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WE ARE A MESS of kisses and hickeys when we enter my small apartment. Everything is uncalculated, messy, intense, real. The feel of his lips on my neck and shoulders, the feel of his huge little man, poking and pressing against my full ass, the feel of his want, need, the feel of his aura, his scent, his freaking cologne. The way his hands grab my huge rack, the way he curses, in both English and Italian, the way he grabs them, unable to grab a handful of them, and grabbing more than. My nipples stand in salute, aroused at the way he worships them on the couch of my small living room.

Kiss and nipping them, biting them, licking them, squeezing them, caressing them, repeating those motions, over and over again. I'm out of breath, clasping my thighs together, as pure need drips from my lady garden, coating and soaking my panties. He doesn't let me clasp them together, he spreads them apart, nudging a knee in between them, approaching my center.

Cielos.

Cristo.

Fucking hell.

I pulse against him, eliciting a guttural groan from him. He pants at my lips and this time I initiate another kiss. I grind my clothed pussy against his knee, desperate for a release. And I chase it. I chase it as I kiss him, I chase it as I moan into his mouth, I chase it as I bite on his bottom lip, I chase it as he pinches my nipple with his fingers, I chase it, I press on, I grind and grind, and I open my eyes to find him looking at me.

Primal.

So I fix my eyes on him and I continue grinding. I've had ex boyfriends that couldn't make me orgasm. I've had enough insecurities about my body, hell, I still do. I don't always feel comfortable intimately, I have good days and bad days, somedays I am, somedays I bring myself to orgasm, some days I struggle and give up. I've had selfish partners, guys who cared more about their satisfaction than mine. But here I am, staring into the eyes of a man I just met, about to go over the edge, and the feeling is so fucking good. My body shivers and pulses, and my orgasm hits me. Fuck. Jesus. I come apart in front of him, drowning in another world, with him, electricity cracking in my veins, arteries, organs. I feel it everywhere. I crash onto another planet and it feels right. This feels right.

"Welcome back to planet earth," His voice welcomes me as I recover, and then I look around us. He's still fully clothed, my dress is ripped open and my boobies are just staring at him and my lady garden is throbbing, asking for more already. Lex pulls his need back, and it's obvious what just happened. A pool of wetness crowns the knee section of his pants and I shudder in embarrassment. Oh Goodness.

"Mi fai entrare," He whispers, a small smile at the corners of his lips. Okay, I want to know the meaning of this one. I raise my brow, asking for a meaning and he chuckles. That husky sound. "I'll tell you some other time," He says, and I grin sheepishly. "I promise, none of them are bad things," His rich accent bounces back and forth around my ears.

"Alright," I smile and I stand on my feet, adjusting my clothes. He steps in front of me immediately. I half expect him to leave, to run for the hills. Some of my insecurities crawl in and I bow my head, rubbing my hands on my hips, arranging my dress. Lex doesn't budge, he just towers over me, drinking me, salivating me.

"Got any ice cubes?" He asks. It's such a harmless question, but it takes me back to the book club I joined in college and the crazy things we read. I nod, of course I have ice cubes. When I get them for him, he smiles, his long arm collecting them. He makes himself comfortable, and he takes off his blazer and arcs a brow at me.

"Show me your room," He smiles, and boy I do just that.

We approach my door and I insert the key, unlocking it. And suddenly this feels like I'm opening myself up to him. Vulnerability sneaks into my mind. I take a deep breath and we both walk in.

I watch as he takes in the room. My twin bed lies at the left side of the room, close to the wall. My mirror follows suit, with all my lady stuff around it. A small dark rug crowns the middle, on the floor. The right side of the room is my dresser, drawers and a couple of celebrity pictures. I'm one of those girls that never got over her Justin Timberlake phase. Lex's lips curl into a smile when he stares at the pictures of JT on my wall. He observes me for a minute and a full smile plays on his lips.

"I never imagined you a JT girl," He smirks at me and blush coats my cheeks.

"I'm full of surprises," I tell him and he sets the cup of ice cubes on my reading table.

We both approach the mirror and he stands behind me. My breath hitches at the sight of us. It's then his hand toy with my nipple through my dress. God, this man appreciates foreplay. A lot. I arch my back backwards, feeling his huge erection once again, pressing my ass, just as his other hand squeezes and spanks an ass cheek. I moan uncontrollably, not expecting that but needed more of it already.

"Fanculo," He hisses, "tu mi

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