Free Filthy Gorgeous Lies: Book 1 by Sophie Night

CHAPTER ONE
    I’m seriously crazy.
    Even as I scan the crowded bar for Michael’s face, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here. When he called me this morning, he’d said he was in New York for business and that he’d love to see me. Just hearing his voice after six months of silence had made my heart skip. After the way things ended between us in Michigan, I never thought I’d hear from him again.
    I glance at my phone. It’s nine ten. He’s ten minutes late and there’s no message from him. He’s staying in the swanky hotel above the bar. Maybe I misunderstood and he wanted me to meet him in the lobby?
    I’m debating whether or not I should text him when a man slides onto the stool next to me. I don’t look up from my phone, but I can smell his expensive cologne and I can feel his eyes on me.
    “Are you waiting for someone?”
    A British accent rolls off his tongue, smooth and sexy. Instinctively, I look up and into a pair of pale blue eyes. For a minute, the air is caught in my throat and I can’t breathe. He’s gorgeous — at least six feet tall with dark, wavy hair and a strong, angular jaw. But it’s his eyes I’m drawn to. They’re so pale, they almost look colorless against his dark features.
    His gaze slowly rakes up my body and settles on my breasts, which are practically falling out of my dress. This was the sexiest dress I owned and I’d chosen it to tempt Michael. I want to tease him, make him want me. But what I really want is a good fuck. It’s been too long — six months, to be exact — and my body is hungry for it. But not so hungry I’d take a stranger to bed.
    I place my phone on the bar and smile. “I am, actually. He’s late.”
    The handsome stranger signals to the bartender, orders a scotch and another of whatever I’m having — an apple martini. It’s my favorite drink, and the only thing I order when I’m at places like this.
    When the bartender returns with our drinks, I take a sip. The tartness makes my lips pucker, and he laughs.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Lexi,” I say.
    “Cole,” he offers back.
    He leans back with an air of self–confidence that few men posses. Finger tracing the rim of his glass, he watches me. “You’re waiting for your ex.”
    It’s not a question or a judgement. It’s an observation and his accuracy startles me. I try to play it cool. “Maybe I’m waiting for a blind date,” I say.
    “I’m guessing you’re a nice girl. And nice girls don’t wear dresses like that unless they’re hungry for a good fucking.” I suck in a sharp breath, shocked by his crude words. He smiles. “And you don’t look like the type that fucks on a first date.”
    I arch a brow, annoyed a complete stranger would presume to know anything about me. “You seem awfully confident about that.”
    Reaching out, he touches his finger to my necklace, just above my collarbone. It’s a double strand of pearls interspersed with pale pink and green gemstones.
    “Pink pearls.” He smiles to himself and drops his hand. “Expensive. More than someone in their early twenties can usually afford. I’d wager they’re a gift from your mum.”
    Actually, they were, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I didn’t want to feed his cockiness. “What does my pearl necklace have to do with my unwillingness to fuck on the first date?”
    “It speaks to your innocence,” he says simply. “Your purity. Your vulnerability.”
    There’s something in his eyes — a dark hunger that sends tingles down my spine. My nipples tighten and heat spirals through my veins. I try to push the feelings away, but they won’t budge. This man does something to me — something I can’t quite explain. Even to myself.
    My phone vibrates, breaking the spell. I glance down as the screen lights up. It’s a text from Michael.
    Sorry, babe. Flight was delayed. Just landed at JFK.
    Disappointment washes over me. Damn. By the time he gets here, it’ll be late. Way late. And I’m opening at