Lola: I’ve seen the way women in line behind the velvet rope look at William Fox, like he’s an Armani-clad St. Peter at the pearly gates. Except Panic isn’t heaven, and this bouncer is no saint. He’s been tempting me to sin ever since I started working here, but Fox’s slick smile and bad-boy swagger tell me everything I need to know about him. Still, a girl has needs. And Fox looks ready to fulfill every last one—at least for a night. . . .
Fox: I’m not used to being ignored—especially by women—but Lola Daye is different. The pretty bartender with the red lips and icy blue eyes seems perfectly happy pretending I don’t exist. Too bad, because the more she ignores me, the harder I fall. So I’m floored when she answers my drunken, flirty text with a yes. Lola claims she only wants a fling, but after one kiss, our bodies are speaking the same language. And I’m ready to prove that what we have could be forever.
No cheating. No cliffhangers. And no dress code.
Don’t miss Sidney Halston’s Panic series:
PULL ME CLOSE | MAKE ME STAY | KISS ME BACK | WHAT ABOUT US
And look for all of her hard-hitting MMA romances:
AGAINST THE CAGE | FULL CONTACT | BELOW THE BELT | LAID OUT | FIGHTING DIRTY | STACKED UP
Praise for Sidney Halston’s first Panic novel, Pull Me Close
“A magnificent story full of deep emotion that will get you straight in the ‘feels.’ . . . Sidney Halston nailed it with this one.”—New York Times bestselling author Sawyer Bennett
“Pull Me Close is a heart-gripping story about one of the most beautiful things in the world: the power of love.”—New York Times bestselling author Aurora Rose Reynolds
“An intriguing tale of anxiety and depression so authentic that readers will feel as if they are in the story with the characters. The plot is fresh and tackles a fascinating topic. The relationship between the main characters is very intense and consuming. . . . A great read!”—RT Book Reviews
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Six months later. . . .
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and without having to turn around I know William Fox is close by.
When I got the job at Panic, I was happier than I’d been in years. Knowing how packed the club gets and the prices of the drinks, I knew my tips would double my income. But then I crashed into Fox. Literally. And that feeling of happiness changed into something I hadn’t felt in years.
For a long time my existence has consisted of work, sleep, eat—rinse and repeat. I’ve been so focused on survival, I’ve pushed all my needs and wants aside for so long that I hadn’t realized how much I’ve missed having a connection with a man. And, the connection I had with Fox was serendipitous. It was immediate, intense, and electric. I’m not talking love at first sight. No, I’m talking lust and hunger, and a desire to pull that thick beard toward me and kiss him with reckless abandon.
Sometimes I think I can feel his deep, gravelly voice when he’s near or maybe I can just sense he’s in the room by the way women turn their heads and stare.
Even after half a year of knowing the man, I still don’t really know much about him except that people seem to gravitate toward him. He’s charismatic and funny and talks a lot. I also know he’s confident and a little bit arrogant, and there’s an air to him that screams money and power.
From the moment he crashed into me, I’ve known we’re as different as two people can be. From his designer suits to the way he styles his hair; the man is obviously well-off. He always smells of that men’s cologne, the expensive one that they give samples of at the mall. I don’t know how much a bouncer at a nightclub can possibly make, but Fox has it in spades.
And because life isn’t fair, God has been abundantly kind to the man by not only blessing him with wealth and charisma, he also has sex appeal the likes of which I’ve never experienced, which is why every time he walks by, I want to jump him like a cat in heat.
So, naturally, I avoid him. And have since the day I crashed into him.
I ignore the little pinpricks on the back of my neck and refuse to look back at him.
My palms sweat and my heart starts to beat faster every time he’s near. On a normal day, I’m awkward, but when he’s around I’m just . . . weird. I mean, the man had to ask me for his hand back when we first met. I was mortified.
I see the way other women look at Fox; the smiles that spread across their faces when he lets them into the club. As if he’s Saint Peter standing in front of the pearly gates. Except club Panic isn’t heaven and Fox is no saint.