16. Kylie
16
KYLIE
Jude hadn’t been kidding about the Dancing Horse. It was in desperate need of an update. And decent management. It made my uncle’s bar look like the height of luxury by comparison.
But it was loud and people were dancing and drinking, and it looked like fun. Mason seemed to know where we were going, and he led us through the crowd, gripping my arm tightly. I was glad for that, both because I wasn’t big enough to push my way through people as he did and also because I wasn’t a hundred percent steady in my high-heeled sandals.
Mason stopped at a round table and tossed the handwritten reserved sign onto the floor. “That’s for us?” I shouted over the noise.
“Of course. Our friend’s in the band.” He pulled the rickety chairs around so that we could all face the stage. I was eager to watch Jude play. I hadn’t been able to see the band when following Mason through the crowd, but I’d heard them, and I thought they were pretty good. Better than this dump deserved, at any rate.
The rock song they were belting out wasn’t something I recognized, but it was good with a pounding rhythm that seemed to enter my bloodstream. I liked the sound, but I still couldn’t see them well.
Sitting up as straight as I could, I tried to see over the heads in front of me, but all I could see was one guitarist. It was a woman with spiky hair and black thigh-high boots. I could see the end of another electric guitar next to her—maybe that was Jude’s? I folded my leg under me, trying to gain some height while not stabbing myself with the heel of the shoe.
Mason noticed my predicament. “Here.” Without any further discussion, he reached over, scooped me up, and settled me on his lap. Wow. His muscular thighs and broad chest made for more comfortable seating than that old chair had. For a moment, I was self-conscious about sitting in his lap, but no one seemed to care. In fact, a woman at a nearby table was thrilled to snag the extra chair for her friend.
Now I could see—but to my disappointment, Jude wasn’t there. There were only five of them, two guitars, a drummer, a keyboard, and a singer. Why wasn’t he playing?
The singer was a blond guy about my age, and he wasn’t bad. I wondered if Jude sang. Probably, since he was so musical. Maybe he’d swap out with the singer or one of the guitar players at some point?
Mason’s chest was warm against mine, and it felt good since my arms were bare. Not that it was cold in here. In fact, it was too warm for the number of bodies in the room, but I still appreciated Mason’s warmth. He had on a black button-down shirt and jeans. I’d seen more than one woman checking him out as we waited in line outside. He definitely looked good tonight. On the ride over, I kept seeking out glimpses of his upper chest where his buttons were undone.
Parker looked nice, too. He had on jeans, a gray shirt that stretched tightly across his ripped chest, and a black jacket. I caught his eye and gave him a smile.
The band switched numbers, and I returned my gaze to the stage. Something flew up in the air at the corner of the stage, and my attention was pulled to the drummer. He was doing a very cool thing where he’d hit the drum three times and then flip the drumstick up in the air, catching it neatly on the fourth beat. It was a pretty cool trick. I hadn’t been all that into live bands in the past, but I appreciated people so talented that they made it look easy. Now, the drummer was?—
Holy shit.
The drummer was Jude.
I did a double take, my jaw dropping. I’d just assumed that he played guitar in the band. Or maybe keyboard. But drums ? He didn’t seem the type, except… right now, he kind of did. It was like seeing him in a whole new light. A really sexy light.
He had on tight black pants that were ripped at the knee. His blazer was black and open in the front… and he was shirtless under it. That seemed completely unlike him—Mason was the one who spent most of his time shirtless in the suite—but good God, he looked hot. Was that really the kind, intelligent, and funny man I roomed with?
Mason smoothed my hair away from my face and his warm breath caressed my ear. “He’s good, isn’t he?”
“Amazing,” I said. And then I couldn’t help it. “He looks amazing, too.” Probably that was a thought I should share with a female friend, but there weren’t any around, so Mason would have to do.
He chuckled. “He wears eyeliner when he’s on stage, you know. Or should I say guyliner?” His legs shifted under me and I resettled myself into a more comfortable position while Mason continued speaking in a low voice. “If you want to throw your bra up there, I’d be more than happy to unhook it for you.”
I turned to respond, and the back of my head rested against his shoulder. “So nice that you’re always ready to lend a helping hand.”
Mason’s arms snaked around my waist, and it felt like a seatbelt. A hard seatbelt corded with muscle. “For you, anything,” he said in my ear.
A harried-looking waitress in her thirties arrived with the pitcher of beer that Mason had ordered. Since he had his hands full, Parker poured and handed us glasses. We toasted to Jude and his band and then all three of us grimaced when we drank. The beer was weak and warm.
Mason downed half his glass but complained about it anyway. “Let’s order something else.”
I shook my head. “Don’t bother, the drinks here suck.”
Parker raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was your first time here?”
“It is, but we passed by the bar on the way in.”
“So?” Mason said.
“So, one bartender wasn’t drawing a pint right, the other was shaking a drink that was supposed to be stirred, and the area behind the counter was a huge mess.”
“How do you know all that?” Parker asked.
“I have eyes. And I bartend at my uncle’s place in the summers.”
Mason shifted his legs under me. “Chicks who tend bar are hot.”
“Yeah, and they love being referred to as chicks, too.”
“Touché,” he said while Parker actually laughed. It was soft, but I heard it, and I shot him a smile.
The band finished the number they’d been blasting out, and the lead singer announced they were taking a break.
“Excellent,” Mason said. A guy at a nearby table stood up, and Mason reached one long arm out and snagged his chair, dragging it over despite protests from the other table. I started to transfer to it, but Mason held me in place, his nose nuzzling my neck. “That’s not for you.”
A moment later, Jude appeared, looking more animated than I’d ever seen him. His face was flushed and there was a gleam in his eye as he sat down next to me.
“That was amazing,” I said, meaning it. “I didn’t know you played the drums, too.”
Jude started to respond and then frowned. “I’ve got a crap ton of drumsticks back at the suite. Haven’t you ever noticed?”
I thought back. “Once I saw you doing some stretches with them before you took out your guitar. I thought all musicians must warm up that way.”
“Some do, usually the ones who play drums.”
“She probably just thought you were a wannabe drummer,” Mason said.
Remembering something else Mason had said, I leaned forward, squinting at Jude. “You’re not wearing eyeliner. Mason said you were.”
Both men laughed.
“Mason says a lot of things. You might want to be careful which ones you believe.” Jude held out his arms. “My turn.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but Mason did. He transferred me over as easily as if he’d been passing a plate to Jude. Then I was sitting on the musician’s lap. I could feel the bare skin of his chest at my back.
Parker, who I didn’t even realize had left, returned with a whiskey for Jude.
“Where’s mine?” Mason demanded.
“You can have one when you learn to play an instrument,” Jude told him.
I took a sip of my beer, not liking the watered-down taste, but it seemed to be a good night for letting loose. I’d been balanced on the lap of one hot man and now another, and I wanted to enjoy the feeling without getting in my head. The week was over. Classes were done. Now was the time for drinking, loud music, and hot men. Fortunately, there were a lot of those around.
Jude’s thighs weren’t as thick and muscled as Mason’s, so I twisted around until I could get comfortable. I ended up sitting sideways across his lap with my legs dangling off one side. He immediately put his hand on my back and then slid it up to massage my neck. Damn, it felt good. I arched my back and leaned into his touch.
Despite the fact that I was sitting on Jude’s lap and he had his hands on me, two giggling women walked right up to him, their ample breasts practically in my face. “You sounded great up there. Can we buy you a drink?” It was obvious they weren’t talking to me.
Jude gave them a smile. “I’m good, but you ladies enjoy your evening.”
They looked like they would’ve enjoyed it more if Jude dumped me on my ass and went with them, but they retreated.
“Does that happen often?” I asked.
“Hell yeah,” Mason said before Jude could answer. “Chicks dig a guy in a band.”
“Again with the word chicks,” I commented.
Jude grinned. “He does have a point, though. When we were still setting up, a woman asked if I wanted to go upstairs and get to know her better.”
“There’s an upstairs to this place?” Parker asked. I was glad that he was following the conversation and not staring off into space like he often did.
“Yeah,” Jude said. “I’m not sure what’s up there. I think it used to be an apartment or something.”
I looked over at him, intrigued to discover how close his face was. How close his mouth was. “I can’t believe you have groupies.”
“I can,” Mason said. “That’s why Parker and I never bring any dates here. They’d end up drooling over Jude.”
Jude frowned at Mason, and a moment later, I realized why. We all looked at Parker, who’d gone pale.
“Sorry, Parker,” Mason said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Parker nodded, but he looked troubled. It didn’t seem likely he’d be ready to date for a long time.
Still feeling bad for him, I brought my glass to my lips but Jude grabbed it, redirected it, and took a big swallow. “That’s terrible,” he said.
I giggled. “That’s why I didn’t offer it to you.”
“Kylie’s a bartender,” Mason informed him.
“Really?” Jude’s eyes sharpened with interest. “That’s hot.”
“Says the drummer who has women crawling all over him.”
He smirked. “Including you.”
“I’m not crawling, I’m sitting,” I protested.
His hand slid down my back and squeezed my ass. “That’s a start.”
“Hey!” I said out of habit, but truth be told, it felt really good to be sitting this close to him. But then there was a whine from the audio system, and someone struck a few notes on an electric guitar.
“That’s my cue,” Jude said.
“Have fun,” I said, yelping a little as his strong hands circled my waist and set me on my feet.
“Leave some, er, women for the rest of us,” Mason said. I had a feeling he would’ve used different terminology if I hadn’t been there.
Mason patted his lap after Jude left, but I shook my head. “I can sit on a chair, you know.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”
I couldn’t help grinning back. He had a point.
As Jude’s band resumed playing, people started dancing. Well, dancing was a relative term. Mostly it was a lot of people jumping up and down or thrashing around while their drinks splashed out of their glasses.
“Want to dance?” Mason asked, and I was pretty sure my jaw dropped open. Mason danced?
Caught off guard, I mumbled, “Sure.” He held out his hand and I took it, getting to my feet.
“Watch our stuff and our drinks,” he said to Parker, who nodded. I smiled at him before Mason led me to the crowded dance floor.
Crowded was good, though. It meant I didn’t have to worry too much about moves. There was only enough room to stand very close to Mason and sway my hips back and forth.
Mason wasn’t a bad dancer. He was athletic and fit, that much had been clear since day one in the dorm, but he also had good balance and coordination. His hand snaked around my back and I stepped closer to him, feeling the heat from his skin. Then someone bumped into me from behind, and I stumbled against Mason’s hard body.
He grinned down at me as he steadied me, a glint in his blue eyes. Because he was so much taller than me, his hips were pressing against my abdomen, and I could feel that he was growing hard. I bit my lip, wishing his cock was positioned a bit lower so that I could grind myself against it.
Then Mason twirled me around and pulled me back against his chest as he wrapped his hands around my waist. He must’ve bent his knees, because then I could feel the bulge in his pants against my ass. All those times I’d listened to him stroking himself—and pictured what it might look like—came back to me. His cock felt large and substantial.
I closed my eyes as I leaned against him and glided my hands up my sides, then over my head. Blindly, I reached for him, one hand closing in on his short hair. Somehow, the other one touched his lips, and I felt his tongue dart out and lick my finger. God, this was hot. I loved feeling his hot, hard body behind me.
A drunk guy and his buddies pushed past, and Mason pulled me back a step to avoid them. But one of the guys stopped to stare at me.
“She’s hot,” he slurred to his pals, as if I weren’t a person, just a thing. And as if I wasn’t being held by a big, strong man.
The other men came back, and one had his phone’s flashlight on. He pointed the light at my face and then panned it down my body and back up again. My jaw dropped open at the man’s audacity and I felt Mason tense behind me.
“Very hot,” one of them said.
The light returned, shining in my face, and I blinked and turned my head.
“What’s with your eyes?” one man said, his breath reeking of beer. “Look, they’re two different colors.”
“Back off,” Mason growled, holding me tight, but it was so crowded, there wasn’t anywhere for us to retreat.
“They are, they’re different colors!” A third man, this one drunker than his buddies, seemed excited. Then to my horror, he reached toward my breasts. “I wonder if her nipples are the same color.”
Mason yanked me back, but the guy managed to get a handful of the front of my shirt. I cried out as he pulled it toward him, staring down my shirt. Then a large hand appeared in front of me, trying to dislodge the drunk’s fingers. There was a mighty tug and I was afraid the seams of my shirt would give, but they held. Then Mason was in front of me. There was a loud smack and then the awful drunk was on the floor.
Horrified, I watched as the guy’s buddies clenched their hands into fists, glaring at Mason. A hand grasped my arm and I shrieked, whirling to defend myself, but it was just Parker. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.
“But what about Mason—” I protested. Three men were in front of him, their fists raised.
“He can handle them.”
Parker led me off to the side of the room. Trembling, I looked around. Where the hell was the bouncer? Wasn’t he supposed to stop this sort of thing? What if those guys hurt Mason? They were drunk, but there were three of them. Then suddenly, Mason wasn’t alone. Jude was there, and the two of them took care of the drunks quickly and decisively. The last of the inebriated assholes gave up the fight when Jude’s fist connected solidly with his nose.
Parker wrapped his arms around me as I stared in shock. From a dim corner of my mind, I noted that the band was still playing, minus the drums.
“Are you okay?” Parker asked.
“I—I think so.” I tried to take stock. Nothing hurt, but I could feel that man’s hand pulling my shirt away and his eyes on my breasts. It made me shudder.
Parker mistook my shaking for chills and peeled off his jacket. He put it around my shoulders and I slid my arms into it gratefully. I felt better once it was on. It just figured that the one time I went out without more than one shirt on, some jerk tried to peel it off.
Mason strode up to us. He had a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you okay?” I asked anxiously.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s Jude?”
My question was answered even before Mason pointed back at the stage. The loud number the band was playing now had a drumbeat again.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Mason said. He pushed his way through the crowd and I followed him closely. Parker was only a half step behind me, and he actually stepped on my heel once, but I didn’t mind. I liked knowing he was there and that he literally had my back.
We were quiet as we walked to Mason’s Jeep. When we got there, Mason tossed his keys to Parker. “Can you drive?”
“Sure.”
Mason opened the back door and I climbed in, although I didn’t quite feel ready to sit by myself. But I didn’t have to because Mason got in after me. He waited until I’d put on my seatbelt and then he put his arm around me.
He kept it there for the whole ride back.