30 Lays in 30 Days - The List Book 1

Chapter 1

There wasn't a sexy way to ask; I simply yelled over the beat of the bass, "So...do you want to fuck?"

Clear green eyes sent a question back and I didn't have to hear him to know what he was asking. Really?

"Seriously! You, me, sex?" I pointed to each of us, then performed an embarrassing mime. It was meant to be the two of us, entangled in a hot embrace. Instead, it looked more like I was channeling mating hippos. So smooth, Cat.

Thankfully, he nodded, his easy, wide smile putting me at ease. Sliding cool fingers around my elbow, he led me from the tiny dance floor of the small, exclusive lounge restaurant. As the music faded behind us, he finally spoke. "I have a place upstairs. If that's okay?"

"It's fine." It really was. I'd been expecting to have sex in the alley behind the club. Or maybe a bathroom stall. Anything else was a step up.

A one-night stand with a total stranger. If I didn't know me, I would have totally judged me.

We left the lounge and stepped out onto the main drag in Broadbeach, a wealthy suburb on the Gold Coast. The street was bursting with Friday-night crowds, swanning between restaurants and nightclubs, wearing their finest and up for anything.

The throng of affluent and good-looking people flowed around us as we turned into the fancy foyer of an apartment building. He steered me across the marble floor to a set of glass elevators and my pulse thrummed high in my neck, tension coiling inside me.

Once the doors closed and the world began to drop away from us, we pounced on each other. His silky blond hair felt delicious wound between my fingers, and even in my six-inch red Prada heels, he was still tall enough for me to have to tip my face up to meet his.

His lips met mine, burning and smooth. Sure, I was tipsy, but my memory of our dance floor pash wasn't exaggerated; he was an amazing kisser. Here's hoping he's just as good with ... other stuff. I giggled accidentally and he pulled back.

"Everything okay?"

I tried to look serious and not drunk. "Yup. Just...you know...feeling good."

He smiled and tilted his head. "I'm Jackson."

"Hi, Jackson." I leaned back in to continue the kiss.

Jackson reached for my chin, stopping me mid-pucker. "That's the part where you say your name."

"Oh." That wasn't part of my plan. "Does it matter?"

Jackson laughed. "It does to me."

"Okay, then. I'm Cat. I'm not actually a slut, you know."

His laughter increased. "All right."

I knew how I must sound. I tried to explain, my syntaxes scrambling to keep up. "I'm just in desperate need of sex. Sex with someone that's not my ex. I have an ex, by the way. His name is Richard. I suppose that doesn't matter. Anyway, I've only ever had sex with him before, and I need someone else to purge him from my system." Sweat beaded at the back of my thighs as I nervously glanced at the elevator lights. "Wow, how slow is this elevator? It's like the ones from Gray's Anatomy when people spend like twenty minutes inside. I talk a lot. Sorry. If you're not into this still, I get it..."

Jackson grabbed my hands and pulled me back to his chest just as the elevator finally pinged and the doors opened. "I don't think you're a slut. And I promise to help purge you."

"Thanks," I said, breathless again at his nearness.

We moved swiftly down a hall and into his apartment. I tried to take in my impressions of the space, the high ceilings and feature walls, but since my tongue was busy exploring Jackson's mouth and his hands were inside my white, flimsy dress, I wasn't really paying attention.