Chapter 12 – Beau #2
The blonde must see the violent rage in my eyes, because he gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “This place is lame anyway.”
“You can come with me, sir,” a cool voice says from behind me.
It’s Peter, his face smooth and professional.
My manager must have been watching the whole thing.
Maybe he doesn’t need to be fired, after all.
He can work under probation until he learns that Velvet & Vice will always choose keeping its workers safe over keeping rich customers happy.
“Make sure you show security his picture,” I tell Peter. “If I find him back in my club again, I’ll have him arrested for trespassing.”
Peter leads the blonde away as he stutters pathetic apologies.
I turn back to Brinley, who isn’t smiling gratefully at me like I’m her knight in shining armor.
She’s glaring like I’ve royally pissed her off.
Well, I’m angry, too. I need to be angry because anger is safer than the other thing.
Angry is Luke’s best friend making sure Luke’s sister doesn’t get herself into trouble.
The other thing has no excuse.
I take Brinley’s arm, careful to keep my grip firm but not rough.
She doesn’t fight me as I pull her to the back of the room, through an exit, and into a private back hallway.
Nobody ever comes back this way unless they’re taking out the trash at the end of the night.
It’s completely empty, other than a few steel shelves stacked with cleaning equipment.
The heavy door slams shut behind us, leaving us alone in the hallway with nothing but the distance thump of the bass. I glare down at Brinley, who’s glaring right back at me. Without her usual glasses, her eyes feel almost too open. Like I can see too much.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap.
Brinley tips her chin up and looks me dead in the eye. “It’s a public venue. I can be wherever I want.”
I step toward her, and she retreats instinctively, stepping back against the wall.
Good. She should know how fucking serious I am.
Taking another step toward her, I press my hands against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in with my arms. I’m close enough to smell her perfume—something warm and sweet that I know I’m going to remember later, alone, and hate myself for.
My jaw tightens. Every muscle in my body is telling me two opposite things at the same time. Take that last step forward. No, scratch that, walk away. She’s Luke’s sister. She’s nineteen. She’s off-limits in every way that matters. I need to walk away now.
Her big brown eyes dart down to my mouth and I have to fight the urge to lick my lips.
Walk the fuck away, Bishop.
“What’s your problem, anyway?” she mumbles. “It’s not like you ever really talk to me, and now you drag me back here? What do you even have to say?”
Fuck, what do I have to say?
“I’m just looking out for you. You can’t just go around looking like this in a place filled with horny men.”
“Looking like what?”
Like a fucking wet dream.
I scowl. “You know exactly how good you look.”
A flush spreads across her cheeks. “What, are you jealous?”
I scoff. No way. It’s laughable, really, the idea of me being jealous of the other men who can dance with Brinley. Touch her. Feel her tight little body against theirs.
Realization dawns in her eyes. “You are . You’re jealous of the guys who danced with me.”
“You didn’t dance with anyone.” She breaks into a smile, and I realize just how much I’ve given away. Now she knows I was watching her, that I was keeping track of her dance partners.
That she has way more of my attention than she should.
Her eyes grow slightly hooded. “You can touch me if you want,” she says softly.
No, I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
Brinley’s hand closes around my wrist. She pulls my hand away from the wall and sets it against the side of her neck. Her skin feels so fucking soft, like warm silk. Her pulse point flutters under my fingertips.
I want to drag my hand further. Down the slope of her shoulder, over her collarbone, down to her full breasts. Her chest rises and falls in short, shallow breaths. She wants me to keep touching her.
Does that mean she’s forgiven me?
If she wants me to touch her, she must not hate me, right?
Because right now she’s standing here with her pulse hammering against my palm, looking at me like I’m the only person in the building.
Part of me wants to believe this means the slate is clean.
That she’s decided I’m not the villain of that story.
Even if I know I don’t deserve that absolution. Not even close.
Eventually, she lifts her chin. “Beau…”
Fuck, hearing my name from her lips does something to me. She sweeps her tongue over her lips. I almost groan when she bites the lower one in a way that makes me crazy.
“Will you kiss me?” she whispers.
“Brin, I?—”
“I dare you,” she says. Quiet. Steady. Like she’s been holding it in her chest for years.
Something in me breaks. The wall I’ve been building ever since I first noticed her, since she stopped being a kid and started being someone who made it hard to breathe when she walked into a room.
It doesn’t crumble slowly.
It detonates.
My lips slam down on hers, crossing that line that can never be uncrossed.
When her plush lips part for me, I know I won’t regret it.
Because kissing her is nothing like I imagined.
It’s worse. It’s better. Brinley’s mouth is softer and sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted.
Her lips move greedily against mine, just as hungry as I am.
Her hands fist the front of my shirt, her curves soft against my body. I tangle my fingers in her hair while I angle her head so my tongue can sweep against hers. She makes a sound against my mouth that almost drops me to my knees.
Fuck, would she make that sound if I moved my mouth lower? What kind of noise would she make if I had my head between her legs? Has anyone else even kissed her there?
The idea of being the first man to taste her pussy is far more appealing than it should be. God, if I just get to the elevator, I can bring her back to my place and?—
Luke’s face flickers into my mind, his eyes sharp with betrayal. He’d never forgive me for this. He’d take our friends with us—the only family I’ve ever had that stayed.
I pull away fast, like I’ve accidentally touched a hot pan. Brinley’s hands, which were clutching my back, fall down to her sides. I stare at the ground and step back, far enough that I can’t feel the ghost of her heat radiating toward me.
I run my hand through my hair, smoothing it. My eyes stay glued to the tiled floor. I can’t look at her, because I know that if I do, I’ll kiss her again.
“That can’t happen again,” I mutter.
Brinley doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her looking at me. I don’t want to know what emotion is lingering in her eyes. Regret? Anger? Sorrow? Any of them could stick in my mind long enough to break me.
I spin on my heel and walk away. I have to leave first. Shoving the heavy door open, I stalk back into the club and across the dance floor. Dancers scatter out of my way, not eager to get in the way of a tall, muscular coward practically sprinting through them.
Once I get to my office, I shut the door and press my back against it. My hand shakes as I brush my fingers over my lips. Fuck, I can still taste Brinley.
Kissing her was a mistake. An impulse brought on by adrenaline and proximity and bad judgment. Thank god I stopped myself before things went too far. It was just a kiss. I don’t have to tell anyone about it, and I very much doubt Brinley will, either.
Eventually, my breath starts to slow. This isn’t the end of the world. Luke’s never going to find out, because this was a blip. A kiss that can’t have lasted longer than a minute. Chances are, I’ll forget about it by tomorrow.
Except I don’t.
Not the next day. Not the next week. Not by the time I see Brinley again at Luke’s place two Sundays later.
She walks in wearing a sweater that’s too big for her and no makeup, looking exactly like she always does.
She’s not the siren in the black dress anymore, but my entire chest caves in anyway when she looks at me.
I don’t forget the kiss because it’s just not the kind of thing you forget. It’s the kind of thing that rewires you. And for the rest of my life, whenever someone asks me when I knew, the answer will be that hallway. Her chin tipped up. Her voice steady.
I dare you.
That’s when I knew I was fucked.