Chapter 7
seven
The stab of jealousy hits me hard. I don’t even know Hot & Smirky’s name, yet here I am cocooned in Dark & Broody’s arms wishing the hot, dark blond was still nestled up behind me.
Torn between the man in front of me and side-eyeing what the other is up to, it hasn’t even been ten minutes and Hot & Smirky already has his arms slung around two gorgeous women, leading them toward the exit.
Not sparing us another glance, he laughs at something the redhead is saying in his ear. Both women are all over him, hands roaming freely over his chest and abs.
My stomach sinks.
Seriously?
I shouldn’t give a shit. I don’t even know the guy. We shared, what, maybe five minutes on the dance floor? Two or three last night?
Logically, I know it’s stupid. Feeling this way. But there’s a bitter taste in my mouth as I watch him walk away as if I never existed—like he didn’t just have his hands all over me, offering me the chance to partake in their sexy-as-sin tube-steak sandwich.
What the hell is wrong with me? Twenty-four hours ago, I was on a stage looking into his lust-filled eyes, and now I’m getting territorial over a man whose name I don’t even know?
Two men, actually, because the one currently holding me tightly against him is making my head spin just as much as the other one did.
Body tensing, Broody’s grip on my waist flexes as he follows my line of sight.
When he looks back at me, he’s studying me with so much intensity, it makes my heart leap.
“Jealous, Angel?”
The nickname sends an unexpected happy thrill through me. And when I open my mouth to deny it? The words stick in my throat.
Because, yeah, I am.
And that realization, for some twisted reason, bugs me way more than it should.
Before I can come up with another smart ass response, he dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear. The contact sends a bolt of electricity straight to my core.
Grazing his teeth across my skin, he gives my shoulder a gentle nip. I gasp, arching against him.
His hands skim over me, fingers digging into the curve of my ass as he jerks me against him. I can feel every hard inch pressing into my stomach. The music pulses around us, but all I can focus on is how his lips feel on my skin.
“Better now?” he murmurs, voice a low rumble vibrating through my bones.
I bite my lower lip, not trusting myself to speak as he begins to move, rolling his hips against mine in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has me wanting to clench my thighs together. The friction is maddening, just enough to tease but not enough to quench the thirst.
“Answer me,” he commands.
Skimming a hand up my back, he tangles his fingers in my hair, nudging a thick thigh between by legs.
“Maybe,” I manage, voice breathier than I’d like.
Broody chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “Liar, liar. Pants on fire.”
His grip on my ass tightens as he moves, grinding his thigh against my clit even harder. I can’t help the small moan that escapes when he hits just the right spot. The club might be bursting at the seams, but it feels like we’re in our own private world.
No doubt in my mind, if he keeps this up, I’m going to come right here in the middle of the dance floor.
His eyes hood at the sound, predatory gleam flashing, dark with lust. “Mmmm. Just what I like to hear.”
The song changes again, and the sea of people undulates all around us. Using the momentum to grind against me, he grips my hair, using it to tilt my head to the side, pressing his lips against my neck.
His chuckle is low as he growls, “Wanna get outta here?”
I should say no. Find my friends, make sure they’re okay. Go home. Alone. That would be the smart thing to do. The good girl thing.
But I’m not that girl. Not anymore.
“Sure. I just need to say goodbye to my friends,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.
“Cool. I’ll go settle my tab.” He gives me a dark and sultry look. “Meet up at the bar?”
I nod.
As he makes his way back to the bar, I search the room for my two besties, until I finally spot them sitting at our reserved high-top in the corner.
Skin buzzing, I weave through the crowd.
Noting the look on my face, Mia grabs me by my upper arms, giving me a gentle shake. “Holy shit, you’re actually leaving with him, aren’t you?” she squeals.
Eyes wide with excitement, Ari rests her folded arms on the table and leans in. “We saw the whole thing. That man is fine as hell, and the way he was looking at you? Girl, I’d have followed him out of here the second he asked. Too bad the other one left.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually going home with him,” Mia adds with a shake of her head. “The Rey I know doesn’t do one-nighters.”
“There’s a first time for everything, right?”
“Damn straight, girl!” Ari bellows.
“Wait.” Suddenly serious, Mia grabs my phone from my purse. “You need to share your location with us. Just in case he happens to be a serial killer.”
“Really, Mia?” I roll my eyes. “A serial killer?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Ari chimes in. Confiscating my phone out of Mia’s hand, she opens the location app. “Just drop a pin when you get to his place. And text us every hour.”
“Every hour?” I protest. “I’m not a child.”
“No, but you’re our best friend,” Mia huffs.
“I’m not texting you every freaking hour, you psychos,” I grouse, snatching my phone away from Ari.
“Fine,” she sighs. “But when you’re done visiting pound town—with what I’m sure, by the look of him, will be within an inch of your life—text us. Promise?”
“Promise.”
The night air is chilly, brushing against my skin as we step out onto the sidewalk.
Warm hand holding mine, Broody gives it a squeeze as he types into his phone with the other. “I’m ordering us a ride share. Your place or mine?”
“Where do you live?”
He shrugs. “Nowhere officially right now. I’m staying at Hotel Indigo.”
Hotel Indigo is an upscale boutique hotel situated directly on the Columbia River. I’ve walked past it a few times, but have never ventured inside. Always wanted to though.
“Yours sounds much better than mine.”
A slow, sexy grin spreads across his face. “My place it is.”