BY KERRI ANN
“State your name for the record.” They ask.
“I don’t know.” I never know.
Since the accident I’ve been a woman without a name, a home, a history. I have no memory of the woman I was before and it’s painful to think I could forget about myself. But I’ve decided I’ll find out who she should be. Stepping into the club I have no misgivings about what I’ll like and what I’ll find, but he wasn’t it. Tall, dangerous, hands that roam everywhere I need them to and a voice like silk. I don’t want to see his face, I want him to be a mystery like I am.
One night is all I’ll need to feel, to be caressed and revered, then I can go back to being no one in the crowd.
Fate had a different plan.
I am a fighter. I fight for what I believe in and I fight for the people I care about, but I’ve never been the guy fighting for the girl, they fall at my feet. My club is swimming with sex, women and able bodies to take to my bed, but I don’t. Find your relief, enjoy them and set them loose — anything more and your head gets twisted up. That was my rule.
When she stepped through the door I knew I wanted her, I wanted to taste her and feel her soft body up against mine. I had to touch her. I had to see the color rise in her cheeks.
Did I know it would become more?
Maybe I should have stayed away.