Connection (Temptation Series Standalones Book 2)

by K. M. Golland

  “Actually,” the bartender interrupts, “they’re on the house.”

  “Make that five Slippery Nipples and five Cum Shots,” Carly announces. “And they’re all for me.”

  “Carly!” I scold.

  “Labia!” she scolds back.

  Will chuckles then slaps the bartender on the back in a familiar manner. “I’ll have a Red-Headed Leg Spreader.”

  My jaw pretty much hits the floor, but the way he’s looking at me—eyes heavy, tongue darting over his bottom lip as if he wants to spread my thighs—I can’t help but press them together.

  “Is that a real drink?” Carly asks.

  “Yep.” Will keeps his eyes on me, and my body tingles in response.

  Stupid body. It doesn’t know what it’s doing. He’s rude and pigheaded, and rude, and… Jesus, I like his arms.

  “Can I get either of you ladies a drink as well?” the bartender asks, looking between Sal, Brooke, and me.

  Sal slurps the last of her Cosmo in the most unladylike manner. “Yes, please, another one of these.”

  Brooke holds up two fingers. “Make that two.”

  Staring Will square in the eye, I say, “I’ll have a Maneater.”

  He scoffs, and it makes me even more annoyed; my drink order was better than his.

  The bartender busies himself with the drinks and moments later lines up Carly’s shots and Will’s stupid Leg Spreader on the bar.

  She starts knocking them back.

  “Got something to prove tonight?” Will asks.

  She shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “You may want to pace yourself.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  I’m about to take one of her drinks, just to slow her down, when a woman calls out to Will. We all turn toward her voice—a stunning brunette with hazel eyes and the softest but sleekest cheekbones I’ve ever seen. Wow! She could pass as the real-life Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

  “Oh, hi, Carly. This is a nice surprise,” she says as she lets herself into our private area.

  Carly smiles. “Hey, Lucy, how are you?”

  “Good.” The woman gives Carly a gentle hug.

  “Got the night off?”

  “You mean from Alexander? Yeah, the crazy kid is upstairs with Bryce and Alexis. I think his presence helps them both, strangely enough.”

  Carly nods her agreement then gathers up her shots and heads toward our private booth, which is only a few metres away. “Come sit with us,” she says to Lucy and Will, and they follow her.

  “Who’s that?” Sal whispers.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but she knows Alexis, Bryce, and that rude jerk.”

  “You mean sexy jerk.” Sal fans her face. “Talk about delicious caveman.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Delicious?”

  “Uh huh. Yum!” Her eyes gleam as if he’s a big bowl of naughty pasta.

  “He looks like a security guard… or a bear.” Inconspicuously glancing over my shoulder, I snap my head back toward the bar when I find him staring at my legs. “Damn it! Why did I wear this T-shirt Carly calls a dress?” I wrench it down and grumble when it barely covers my arse.

  “T-shirt or not, you look great!” Brooke says. “I’ve never seen you in something like that.” She swirls her finger in my direction.

  I glance down at the body-hugging, emerald-green dress. “I look partially naked.”

  “You look hot!”

  “Here you go, ladies.” The bartender places three drinks on the bar top. “Two Cosmos and a Maneater.”

  Brooke snatches hers up and sips on the tiny straw. “I think Caveman agrees with me, because he can’t keep his eyes off you, Lib.”

  “That’s because he sees me as a piece of meat he wants to rip into.”

  Sal almost drools. “I wouldn’t mind being his meat.”

  “Really?” I glance over my shoulder again, and he tips his chin up before taking a swig of his drink. “You should go for it, Sal. But I’m sure he’ll chew you up and then spit you out. He seems the type.”

  Picking up my drink, I sniff it hesitantly.

  “What’s in that?” Brooke asks.

  “No idea.” I scrunch my nose. “I’ve never had a Maneater before.”

  We both laugh, and all three of us make our way back to our private booth, the taste of rum, Coke, and perhaps lime, coating my tongue as I deliberately avoid eye contact with Will. The drink is gross. Fuck Maneaters.

  “Lucy, these are my friends, Brooke, Sal, and Lib,” Carly says to the woman.

  “Oh, thank you for using my proper name this time,” I deadpan.

  The cheeky bitch pokes her tongue out at me.

  Lucy laughs but looks from me to Carly and back to me again, a little perplexed. “Hi.” She extends her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  I shake it when Carly adds, “Lucy is Bryce’s sister.”

  “Oh!”

  That explains her fairy tale beauty. Apparently, the extremely good-looking gene is strong in Lucy and Bryce’s family.

  Carly offers one of her shots to her. “Would you like a Slippery Nipple?”

  Lucy blushes but then smiles and bites her tongue, and Will bursts into laughter. I’m at a loss as to what’s so funny. Maybe he’s just one of those immature guys who laughs at the stupidest things, like the word nipple. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  Giving him a playful glare, Carly continues talking to Lucy. “I’d offer you the Cum Shot, but apparently, you’re not into that.”

  “No, I’m not. I’ll take a Slippery Nipple over a Cum Shot any day.”

  I’m so confused.

  “Fuck, this conversation is hot.” Will leans against the concrete pylon next to our booth then takes another swig of his cocktail. He swallows then pulls a face similar to a cat’s bum. I almost laugh—serves him right if his Red-Headed Leg Spreader is as revolting as my Maneater.

  “William,” Lucy says, “when are you going to grow up?” She pats his shoulder condescendingly. “So I’m a lesbian. Big deal.”

  Ohhh! Okay. I feel a little less out of the loop now.

  He smirks and blows her a kiss.

  I roll my eyes at his lack of decorum and decide to remove myself from his presence. I don’t know why he bothers me so much, but he does. “I’m going to dance. Brooke, Sal, you comin’?”

  Sal looks at her drink with an expression of sorrow then puts it down. I do the same—sans the sorrow—and we snake our way through the crowd to an open spot on the dance floor, soon finding ourselves in instant hell.

  Sweaty bodies. Unfamiliar sweaty bodies. Everywhere. All encroaching my personal space. There’s nothing worse. One guy even has the audacity to place his sweaty hands on my hips.

  “Hey!” I swipe them away and move back, ready for fight or flight, when he’s suddenly yanked away.

  Relief floods me for a second when Will stands in his place, and I’m about to thank him, when he has the audacity to place his hands on my hips too.

  I look at them—huge bear-like paws on my silk dress—then look back up at him. “Do you mind?”

  He chuckles. “So you’d rather dance with that guy?”

  Placing my hands over his, I pry them from my body. “I’d rather dance with my friends.”

  Turning my back to him, I present my cold shoulder, which heats when his beard tickles the skin at my neck, his breath warm against my ear as he murmurs, “Can I be your friend, Labia? I’d really like to be your friend.”

  His hands once again snake onto my hips, and for a split second, I want them to stay there… until sense slaps me across the cheek and I spin to face him, our eyes locked, our faces mere centimetres apart. He’s leaning down, his gigantic frame dwarfing me and creating a shield from anyone else standing close.

  Strangely enough, I feel safe but… claustrophobic.

  “No, you cannot be my friend!” I shove him again. “And my name is not Labia!”

  Not knowing what else to do, I growl and storm away.

  The ne
xt couple of hours are spent hiding from and avoiding Will. He’s like a sniffer dog, and I’m the cocaine. Every time the girls and I change levels, he’s not far behind. I even have to slip into the ladies’ toilet just to throw him off his scent. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to understand I’m not interested in his company. I’m sure he’s nice, somewhere underneath his offensive tongue, and I mean no offense—or maybe I do—but I’m just over stupid men and their stupid games.

  Rounding the corner after leaving the toilet, I stop in my tracks when he pushes off from the wall and takes a step toward me.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I say, holding my hand out like a stop sign.

  My palm slams into his rock-hard chest, and I stumble backward, my shoulders hitting the passage wall behind me, his arms caging me in.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, barely able to breathe.

  His eyes narrow. “Firstly, I’m not playing chasey with you any longer—”

  “Chasey? I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Secondly, I’m sorry for calling you Labia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Oh.” This second one catches me by surprise. “I… I—”

  “And, thirdly, you may want to help me stop Carly from doing something she’ll regret.”

  I stare at his lips, the bridge of his nose, and finally his eyes, grey-blue like an overcast sky. Soft and kind, they contradict the rest of his burly exterior. They’re not as dark as I first thought; they’re rather lovely, actually.

  “Elizabeth?”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Carly… she’s dancing with a dick, a dick who’s not Derek.”

  “Damn her.” Closing my eyes momentarily, I sigh then quickly duck under his arm to free myself from his prison. “Where?”

  He nods toward the dance floor.

  “Right.” I gesture to his pocket, where I assume he keeps his phone. “Ring Derek and tell him.”

  “You shittin’ me?” He steps back, runs his hands through his hair, and laughs.

  My eyes magnetise to his biceps once again, shirt-cuffs straining against the expansion of his muscles. He must lift very heavy weights or pull very large cars, or—

  He flexes them again.

  “Am I what?” I shake my head, diverting my gaze back to his eyes, which really aren’t less distracting. “No! I’m… I’m not shittin’ you. Call him. Tell him exactly what she’s doing. He needs to know.”

  “He’s gonna lose his shit.”

  “Good. He should. That’s what she needs right now.”

  His eyebrows hitch, but he takes out his phone and dials Derek. “Hey, mate. How’s things in Sydney?”

  I look out at the dance floor, trying to pinpoint Carly, but my eyes keep making their way back to Will, following his every step as he paces the hallway beside me, phone to his ear. His arse looks great in jeans—hard, solid… strong. In fact, every part of him looks hard, solid, and strong. Intimidatingly so.

  For the first time since meeting him, I notice tattoo ink creeping out from the collar of his shirt, and I’m curious to know what it looks like in its entirety. I’m not normally partial to men with tattoos, but for some reason, his intrigues me.

  “I’m at Opals,” Will says then chuckles at Derek’s response. “Nah, not playin’ a gig without you.”

  Gig? Oh, Will must also be in the same band as Bryce and Derek. Makes sense considering he seems to know everyone in the building. Carly mentioned Bryce’s band often plays here and that he’s a “sexy version of Slash” and that Derek can “sing her panties off.”

  I wonder what Will’s role is. Drummer, guitarist… backup singer?

  Unable to help myself, I snort-laugh. He definitely doesn’t look like a backup singer. A drummer, yes—he has the arms for it—but a backup singer, no.

  Will furrows his brow at me then says to Derek, “I’m with your girl and her hot as fuck friend.” He looks me up and down again, much like he did at the bar, then adds, “Fuck yeah. I’m gonna have more than a crack at her.”

  Jerk! The only crack he’ll be having is in his balls when my foot kicks them into his abdomen.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I snarl and walk away, hellbent on finding Carly and dragging her home. Coming out tonight when she’s fragile and hurting wasn’t a great idea.

  Pushing my way past person after person, I finally spot her ash-blonde hair twirling around like a tornado.

  “What are you doing?” I yell, pulling her away from a sleazeball who has his grimy hands all over her.

  “I’m dancing with…” She leans into him. “What’s your name, sausage?”

  “Marco.”

  “Marco. I’m dancing with Marco.” Carly shrugs off my grip. “Want to join in?”

  “No, you stupid cow, I don’t. And I don’t think Derek would want you joining in either.”

  Sleazeball stops dancing. “You’re not single?”

  “No, she’s not. Now bugger off.”

  He walks away.

  “Lib, you just scared him off.” She pouts. “I wanted to see the sausage’s sausage.”

  Making claws with my hands, they tremble as I refrain from placing them around her neck and strangling her. “What’s wrong with you? What about Derek?”

  “What about Derek?” she barks. “He’s in Sydney, and whatever it is he’s doing there, he obviously doesn’t want me to know.”

  Before I can tell her she’s an infuriating fucko—something I’ve never told her before—Will steps between us and hands Carly his phone.

  “You may want to take this.”

  She squints at it. “It’s not my phone. My phone is here.” Carly reaches into her bra and pulls it out. Her eyes shoot to Will’s phone. “Is that him?” she mouths, swaying just slightly.

  Sporting a shit-eating grin, he nods slowly.

  She groans, grabs his phone, and turns her back to us before nonchalantly answering, “What’s up?”

  “I could kill her,” I say, dancing a little, because everyone else around me is and I don’t want to look out of place.

  Will dances too, and I’m not stupid enough to deny he has rhythm.

  He leans forward. “Derek is pissed.”

  I nod. “I don’t blame him.”

  “I’d be pissed too.”

  I smile, not knowing what to say to that. I guess it’s fair enough.

  He steps closer. “Carly says you don’t have a man.”

  I stop dancing. “That’s none of your or Carly’s business.”

  Smiling like I really am a tasty piece of meat he wants to devour, he bends down, wraps his arms around my arse, and lifts me up. “Well, Elizabeth, as of this moment, I’m makin’ it my business.”

  Chapter Five

  “Put me down, you prehistoric Neanderthal.” I try to wriggle free, but his arms are like pythons.

  “A Neanderthal? Is that code word for Sex Master?”

  “What? No! It’s code word for put me down now!”

  “Okay, your highness. I’m sorry.” He places me on my feet again and crosses his giant python arms over his chest. “You’re short, and I can’t hear you down there. Conversation is easier when you’re level with my face.”

  “The only thing that’s gonna be level with your face is my fist.”

  Will throws his head back and laughs. “Word of advice—if you’re going to make threats, you need to be able to follow them through.”

  I punch his arm; it’s the only spot I can reach.

  He looks at the spot then back at me, as if an unexplained phenomenon just occurred. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  He points to the spot I punched.

  “That was me following throu—”

  “Everything all right here?” a man asks, his finger tapping my shoulder.

  I flinch, turn to face him, and—strangely enough—move closer to Will. “Yes, everything is fine. Thank you.”

  “You sure?” His eyes a
re on Will, his chest puffed, which looks ridiculous. Because if Will were a lion, this dude would be a gazelle.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I turn back to Will, his face still crumpled in that unexplained phenomenon kinda way, but now it’s directed at the gazelle and not at me.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “Because if this guy is hassling you—”

  “Oh my God!” I look over my shoulder at him. “No, he’s not hassling me. You are! Now go away or I’ll punch you too.”

  The guy raises his hands and says, “Just tryin’ to fuckin’ help a bitch,” then walks off.

  Will’s body stiffens, and his funny expression turns sinister as his eyes follow the guy. He takes a step in his direction, and I panic, clasping his arm and pulling him to me.

  “Don’t bother,” I say, scoffing.

  His hands find my hips again, and this time, I leave them there.

  “Don’t bother what?” he prompts, still focussed on the guy.

  “Defending my honour.”

  His eyes lock on mine. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t need nor want you to. I can defend myself.”

  He lets me go and rubs his chin with his thumb and knuckle. “I’m not convinced.”

  “You don’t need to be.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.” I go to leave, when he says my name, and for some stupid reason, I like the sound of it on his tongue.

  “Elizabeth.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to teach you how to box.”

  “Box? What?”

  He nods as if that’s all there is to it.

  “Um… no, you’re not.”

  This time, I do turn on my heel in search of Carly, Will following, his Gigantor arm reaching out to make a clear path through the sea of people before me.

  “You need to learn how to defend yourself. You’re too small and delicate.”

  “The only person I need to defend myself against is you.”

  “Fine! I’ll teach you how to defend yourself against me then.”

  The offer is almost too good to refuse.

  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “Sorry, no can do.”

  Stopping at the edge of the dance floor, I spin to face him, when he bumps into me, his arms reaching around my back stop me from falling.