6. Ronan
“ A nd then she said ‘No way! You first!’ and I said ‘No way, you first!’ and none of us went at all!” Sherrie and Georgia throw their heads back and cackle with boisterous laughter.
I gulp my drink, long since needing to move on to the hard stuff.
“Another round?” Connor’s eyes twinkle. Sherrie’s hands have been glued to his chest since we walked through the club doors. It’s only a matter of time before they make their way south to his lap. He knows he’s getting laid tonight and he’s as happy as an alley cat in a tuna factory.
Georgia hasn’t been as forward, but I’m guessing that’s more on account of me being …
me. I’m not outgoing and flirtatious like Connor.
That’s not to say I don’t know the right words or that I even need to say anything to attract women.
But I’ve had plenty of them tell me that I’m intimidating—my green eyes are broody, my hard jaw is unyielding to easy smiles, my tattoos and buzz cut give me a dangerous edge.
Whether they find all that attractive or they’re attracted to the idea of taming me, I can’t be sure.
Either way, women throw themselves at me without me having to lift a fi nger.
It drove Tasha crazy. She’d get so jealous, accuse me of cheating on her. No one seems to believe that I never touched another woman while I was with her, but I didn’t.
I have since she dumped me. Twice, back in Indy.
Both were girls I picked up at a club. I ended up at their places.
Neither were anything to think twice about.
Pretty, but without personalities. Decent lays, but nothing mind-bending.
I was relieved to be walking out their doors, tossing their phone numbers as soon as I rounded the corner.
Maybe that’s why I’m not making too much of an effort tonight. I’d be just as happy to go home alone and sleep. Banging strangers from bars isn’t for me. I like to know the woman I’m sliding my dick into.
“I think I want to switch to something less sugary. What are you drinking, Ronan?” Georgia sidles closer to me.
That’s what it’s been all night—her nudging my thigh here and there, grazing her fingers over my biceps occasionally.
She’s batted her lashes plenty. Subtle moves to let me know she’s interested but unsure how aggressive to be.
But with each drink, the leash that holds her self-control back slackens.
“Jack and Coke.”
“Is it any good?” She smiles sweetly at me. She really is as stunning as that picture I saw, though a lot of it is makeup.
I hold out the drink to her.
She leans over, parting her lips for the tip of the straw. She makes a point of looking up at me through those soulful milk-chocolate eyes as she sucks. “Mmm … Yes. I definitely want this.” She finishes it off with a swipe of her tongue along her bottom lip.
Yeah, I’m definitely getting laid tonight, if I want it.
“All right, this waitress of ours is never coming back. We’ll go to the bar and grab a round.” Connor tilts his head, signaling for me to follow. “Don’t let anyone take our spots.”
“Never.” Georgia giggles as I climb out of my seat in the shadowy alcove at the back of Sin. We’re in the nightclub’s VIP section, and apparently, it’s impossible to get a table back here, but Sherrie is best friends with one of the managers.
I’m not gonna lie: I’ll take a VIP booth in the dark over the crowds of sweaty bodies.
But that’s where we’re heading now, as I follow Connor toward the closest bar, hordes of people surrounding it, the music pulsing louder with each step.
I’ve never seen so many scantily clad, beautiful women in my life.
The per capita of hot bodies in Miami is off the charts.
I guess there’s something about beach life—when you live in a place where you own almost as many bikinis as you do other outfits, you tend to go the extra mile to look good in them. And damn, these women look good.
I spot our cocktail waitress approaching.
Full gold, orange, and black paint from head to toe, and she’s wearing nothing but heels, a G-string, and pasties to cover her nipples.
It’s one helluva uniform for a nightclub.
All the servers are dressed and painted like various animals.
Ours is a lion. Or a lioness, to be exact.
“I was coming over to you guys,” she purrs, not an ounce of shyness over her revealing outfit or my appraisal of it as she steps closer to me.
There’s maybe an inch between my chest and her double-D tits.
They’re obviously fake but beautiful, nonetheless.
“I’m so sorry. We’re short-staffed tonight. ”
It could be the Jack, but damn, this costume is sexy. So is her confidence. If I had her in the VIP area instead of Georgia, I’d be more eager. “It’s okay. We needed to stretch our legs.”
“What’s your name?” Her lips graze my earlobe.
“Ronan.”
“Hi, Ronan. So, is the brunette at your table your girlfriend?”
“Just for tonight.”
She grins. “My name’s Becca.”
“Hey, Becca. Does that paint rub off on hands?” My gaze drops to her breasts, my palms itching to feel the weight of them.
“It will if they’re wet. And my boss wouldn’t be too happy about smudges this early in the night.”
“That’s too bad.”
Her lips part. “But how about later?”
I jump at the feel of a palm smoothing over my groin; I don’t have to check to know it’s hers. I can’t get away, even if I want to. I’m surrounded by people in every direction, all of them clueless as the lioness server rubs my dick.
“I think you are incredibly sexy. Why don’t you give me your number and we can …”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Connor’s large frame about ten feet away, standing too close and menacingly to some lanky guy for it to end well.
Shit . “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta help my friend. Come by the table.” I skirt past her and push through, trying to will my erection down as I close the distance. I grab hold of Connor’s shoulders and squeeze. “Hey, what’s up, bro?”
“Look who I ran into!” Connor exclaims with mock cheeriness.
“I don’t know this guy.” He’s skinny and has a vibe to him—his pants are tapered, his shirt fitted and untucked.
I can’t see his shoes, but I’d bet they’re polished and slightly wing-tipped.
He’s nervous, that much is obvious by the way he keeps glancing around him, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, pushing it off his face.
For Connor to lose his charming edge, he must be pissed. And he’s a big guy. Whoever this hipster-fucker is, he better be afraid.
“ This is Ryan’s ex, David,” Connor explains through gritted teeth.
Oh .
“He works at Wolf, in accounting. And that girl over there works in reception.” He nods toward a pretty, tall blond standing about five feet away.
Ohhh .
“I was telling David how sweet it is, the way he had his arm wrapped around her. You know, since he broke up with my sister last night.”
Fuck. The dick isn’t just with another girl. He’s with a hotel coworker.
Poor Ryan. She’s gonna hear about this by Monday morning.
The fact that she has to work in the same place as her ex is bad enough, and now he’s dating someone else there.
What is it with hotels and staffers banging each other like rabbits, thinking no one will find out about it?
The outdoor crew guys have a bad rep, but these office people aren’t much better.
A quick glance around shows me that five different bouncers are watching, ready to move in. I don’t want to get kicked out. Not before I see Becca again. “Come on. You’ve gotta let Ryan deal with this in her own way. You’ll only make it worse. Let’s go.”
At first, I don’t think Connor’s going to listen. But finally, he moves away, carving a path straight to the bar.
“How the fuck does he land a chick like that?” Connor yells over the music. “He’s got to be a hundred pounds soaking wet. Does he have a giant curved dick or something?”
“I don’t get it either,” I agree.
“I mean, my sister and him were one thing, but …”
“Ryan’s not exactly hard to look at.” She has a sweet, wholesome face and a killer ass.
“You know what I mean. She’s all scholarly, doing her master’s and shit.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Connor eyes me. “Why? Have you been checking her out?”
“ No way .” It’s an automatic response. A lie, but a necessary one. Sisters are off- limits.
Connor leans over the bar, sizing up the choices. “Good. Because I don’t think I’d be okay with that.”
I snort. “Dude, then why do you keep trying to push her on me?”
“Because I like to bug the shit out of her. But if I ever thought she’d actually bite, I wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll bite. My dick. No thanks. I like it whole and attached. But you know what?” I pat Connor’s back. “I’m glad to see you actually do know how to be a good brother and give a damn about something besides getting laid.”
The bartender comes by. Connor orders and pays for the round, his gaze roving over the women around the bar. “Ah, well. She’ll find someone new soon enough. And speaking of getting laid …” He grabs two of the drinks and carves a path through the crowd, back to our table.
What I could really use is a cigarette.
It’s so dark in the VIP section that we have a hard time finding our corner, stumbling up a step or two to where Sherrie and Georgia are on their feet, their scantily clad bodies gyrating against each other to the heavy beat.
“I don’t know which one I like more,” Connor muses, watching.
They’re all the same , I want to say, but I hold my tongue.
“What do you say we swap halfway through?”
“What do I say?” I chuckle through a sip. “What do they say about it?” Tasha’s rage would go nuclear if my gaze so much as inadvertently skimmed one of her girlfriends. I made an offhanded swinging joke once, and she didn’t talk to me for almost a week.
“Oh, they’re down. Sherrie already said as much.”