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One Night Only
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My heart is racing as I knock on his door.
Jace Randall is the artist who inspired me to become an art critic, but he’s also an incredibly handsome billionaire who’s agreed to let me interview him.
Then his door opens and I realize the photos of him don’t do him justice.
The man in front of me is a dream, and as his eyes scan up and down my body, my mind goes blank when he utters the words, “How much?”
Savannah Birch can’t get Jace out of her mind, and when she tries, she finds herself at the Gilded Cage. She’s almost as intrigued by what she finds at the BDSM club as she is by the man she wants to forget. No shirking violet when it comes to sex, she encounters a masked man who introduces her to a world she hardly knew existed. A world that might just be able to erase any thought of Jace Randall.
Don’t miss One Night Only, another steamy stand-alone novel in the Billionaire’s Muse series by M. S. Parker.
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It was too fucking hot outside, but it had been a hell of a week, and I needed to unwind. And not the eating ice cream and binging on Game of Thrones kind of unwinding. I needed dancing, drinking, and fucking, though I wasn’t particular about the order.
The sun was almost down by the time I stepped back outside, but New York City was still sweltering. Then again, it was the end of June, so the heat wasn’t surprising. Even in my barely-there dress, my skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat when I climbed into the cab. I gave the driver the club’s address and grimaced as the backs of my thighs stuck to the seat despite the air-conditioning.
I grew up in Indiana, so it wasn’t like I wasn’t used to the heat, but there was something different about a suburban summer in the Midwest as opposed to the Big Apple. Like all the worst parts of sun and heat and humanity came together in the worst possible way. It was one of the few things I didn’t like about the city. Everything had to have some downsides, right?
My best friend was shouting before the cab even pulled to a stop.
“Savannah Birch, you sexy little bitch, get your ass out of there and get over here!”
Oh shit, he was drunk already.
“Here.” I handed the driver a couple bills. “Thanks.”
I’d barely gotten two steps away before six feet, five inches of gorgeous gay man enfolded me in an entirely too sweaty hug.
“How much have you had to drink?” My voice was muffled as I tried to push him away. I loved him, but it was too fucking hot for this mess.
“You were late,” Everett explained as he hooked his arm through mine and practically pulled me to the door. “So Lei and Lorde decided we needed to play a drinking game. I’m losing.”
I shook my head. “You know, one would think that seven years with those two would’ve taught you a thing or two.”
He gave me one of his devastating grins and winked at the bouncer as we went inside. He always got flirty and flamboyant when he drank, which was usually why Lei and Lorde liked to make it happen. A drunk Everett was a sight to behold.
Everett and I had been inseparable since the first day of kindergarten when Titus McPherson stole my Captain America lunchbox. I’d gone after him, but not before Titus spilled the contents everywhere and stomped all over them just because my brother, Jonathan, had called his brother a booger eater, which was, of course, a deadly insult for a manly preschooler to offer. I’d been ready to knock out a tooth or two when this scrawny little thing with platinum blond hair and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen came up, shoved Titus hard enough to knock him on his ass, then said I could share his lunch.
He officially came out to me in seventh grade, but I’d suspected his sexual preferences when he joined me in mooning over whichever boy band was the most popular at the time. Fortunately, I’d never harbored any romantic feelings for him, so I was able to be totally supportive after he had the talk with his parents.
“You’re late.” Lorde Mayfair and I bonded over a shared birthday when we met at NYU freshman orientation. She had a degree in Metropolitan studies, but currently worked as a sales clerk at a high-end fashion boutique while she decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. As a result, she never quite understood the dedication the rest of us had toward our careers.
“And you look amazing,” I said as I took in the cute sundress that did wonders for her pleasantly plump figure. With her youthfully cute face, short chestnut brown waves, and blue-green eyes, she still got carded even though she was twenty-five.
“So do you,” she said as she gave me a loose hug before sitting back down.
“See, Everett, some people understand personal boundaries,” I teased as he plopped down in the booth. He stretched his arms out across the top of the seat and ruffled Lorde’s hair.
“Hey, I can’t help it that you’re so huggable,” he countered. “Like a teddy bear. An angry teddy bear.”
I glared at Lorde, who gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look, and pointed to the fourth member of our party.
Lei Oshiro was the most unassuming member of the group, and the youngest at twenty-four. A second-generation Japanese-American, she spoke the language fluently and often used it to confuse men who wouldn’t quite take no for an answer. Because she was on the quiet side, most people didn’t realize that a devious personality lurked behind those nut-brown eyes.
She shrugged. “You know how easily I get bored.”
“Time to catch up!” Everett announced as he jumped up. “I’m buying this round.”