Lena stayed until last call at the hidden speakeasy bar, drinking her final cocktail. The place had an intimate, golden glow, dark wood, velvet booths, and jazz playing softly. Behind the bar, the bartender moved with magnetic confidence. Tall, tattooed arms, sharp jawline, and dark eyes that seemed to see right through her.
His name tag read “Rafe.”
As the last patron left, Rafe locked the heavy door and flipped the sign to Closed. He turned to her with a slow, knowing smile.
“Everyone’s gone, Lena. You stayed for a reason.” His voice was low and smooth like aged whiskey. “Care for something off the private menu? After-hours only.”
Her pulse quickened. “What’s on that menu?”
Rafe stepped around the bar, rolling up his sleeves. “Sensory. Filthy. Unforgettable.” He lifted her onto a ba
