by Amelia Wilde
He is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. His jaw looks like it’s been carved out of stone, and the rest of his features are as chiseled as you could ever wish for. And his body—
Holy shit.
Even under the dark jacket he’s wearing, I can tell that he’s built. And not in that unbalanced muscle-head kind of way—he has hard, defined muscles, but something in him speaks of leanness, a coiled energy waiting to be unleashed.
Oh, he is so not my type. The expression on his face is pure danger—alert, Zelda, run in the opposite direction—but I’m rooted in place.
Unlike his friend, who is tall and lanky and clearly here to pick up women, he doesn’t scan the club to see where the best prospects are. His jaw works—maybe his eyes are still adjusting—and then he throws one smoldering look straight across the crowd.
My heart goes wild.
Because with eyes that even from here pierce my soul, he’s looking right at me.
Chapter 6
Sawyer
The moment I see her, I very nearly tell Max that I forgive him for dragging me to this God awful club.
We’re back in the city, if only in a technical sense, which is not what I was planning on when I texted him from Linda’s. I just wanted to go to one of the bars on the outskirts of Greenville—the Back Room, or the Sidewinder, dives where nobody’s going to care who I am.
Not that I’m some big fucking star in Greenville. I spent an uninspired three years on the football team, second string, and I’m not some golden boy who ever scored the winning touchdown in the game, or started some bullshit charity drive to benefit the down-on-their-luck people in the suburb, which would have included me and my dad for sure.
Last I knew, nobody who would care went to those bars, so that’s what I suggested to Max.
He had other ideas.
He pulled up in front of my aunt’s house in a gray Honda Civic that looks like he just had it washed, stepped out of the car, and waved at the house with a big grin on his face. “Let’s go!” he shouted across the lawn. “The ladies are waiting!”
My aunt looked up from the novel she was reading in an overstuffed recliner in the living room. My uncle used to sit there. After he died, she started sitting there all the time. She has a funny expression on her face. “Ladies?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“You still have your key?”
Damn right I do. It’s the one with the red key cap on my ring. “I take good care of it.”
“Good to know.” An expression flickers red across her face, and for a second I wondered if she was going to ask me when I’m going to see my dad. “I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I’ll see you sometime then.”
“Night, Aunt Linda.”
“Night.”
She went back to her book before I was out the door.
“Hey, man,” Max said, giving me a light punch on the shoulder as I climbed into the passenger seat. “Holy shit. You’re built, man!” He shook his hand like his fingers hurt.
I give him a look. “You obviously haven’t heard of the gym.”
“Screw off,” he said with a laugh. “What the hell are you doing in the city these days, anyway?”
I opened my mouth to tell him, but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing Max would want to hear. I’ve known him since middle school. And I might not give a shit how I make my money, but he will. Sitting next to Max, I had the unsettling thought that I might care, but I pushed it away. Fuck that. “Just working.”
“With plenty of time off to hit the weight room.”
“You know it.” The weight room, and a newer martial arts studio where they don’t know what I do for a living. And running. Because you can never be too prepared in my line of work.
Max drove past where we’d turn off for the Back Room, but when he drove past the turn for the Sidewinder without even slowing down, my jaw clenched tight.
“I thought we were going to the bar.”
Max turned his grin on me again. “We’re going somewhere better than the bar. Somewhere with hotter women. Somewhere with hotter women who love to dance.”
I closed my eyes for a brief second. Christ. A dance club. The last place on earth I want to spend the evening.
But as I’m not a whiny asshole, I rode in silence instead of complaining. Max tried to fill it with random chatter about people I used to know in Greenville, but I didn’t have shit to say about that. I’ve stayed away from this place for years, because crossing the city limits makes my blood boil.
For the thousandth time, I wondered why I was here at all.
The club was exactly what I expected. I walk past this kind of place every day in the city, though in the daytime they’re all closed. Max walked straight up to the bouncer, did some handshake routine, and then led the way into the place.
We went through a narrow lobby with a coat check girl slouched behind a window, and then an even narrower hallway. I couldn’t see shit around Max other than the pulsing lights, and in the hallway, the dance music refracted off of itself, causing an unholy din. I didn’t have to be able to see to know that the place was crowded as fuck. There was heat pouring out of the room into the hallway, and I almost turned around and went back to the coat check. In the middle of May, it’s cool enough to wear a jacket outside at night, but I guess Max knew what the hell he was doing, because he’s just got a t-shirt on for our little outing.
Ahead of me, he steps into the main room of the club, and I have to reach forward and prod him, interrupting his first scan of the area. He steps to the right, his head turning toward one end of the club like he’s going to do a sweep for the hottest woman here, his gaze like some sci-fi laser bullshit.
I step in behind him.
It takes a few more seconds for my eyes to adjust, and in that time something fucking weird happens. The people on the dance floor shift, and it’s like they clear a path straight between me and a woman standing by herself near one of those tiny-ass tables that’s only good for a single drink at a time. You couldn’t fit a basket for a fucking burger on there along with a beer—not that they serve food like that here.
But I don’t give a shit about food. I don’t care about anything else.
Our eyes meet like in one of those bullshit chick flicks, and a line of lightning shoots down my back.
She’s wearing something dark—a dark dress?—and the halter top presses up against full breasts like it was made for her. The couple of inches of cleavage peeking out have my cock instantly hard against my jeans. And something about the skirt of the dress, the way her hand goes down to tug it into place, makes me want to tear it off of her.
“Shit.” Max says it into my ear, and I realize he’s seen her, too. “She’s hot.”
I nod. “She’s mine.”
Chapter 7
Zelda
I don’t notice that his friend is with him until they both start moving toward me, skirting the dance floor at first, and then disappearing into the crowd when more couples come between us. Moments later, they’re out again from behind the throngs of people, the friend bending to say something into a woman’s ear. The friend moves in and out of my awareness. I’m breathless and hot, despite the fact that my outfit seems to be barely there. I just saw him. I’m just looking at him, but I want—
So many things are rushing through my head that I can’t exactly get a handle on what I want or even what I’m thinking. If he came up to me right now and put his hand on the back of my neck and slammed his firm mouth against mine and pressed me against him while he kissed me, would I even protest at all?
Probably not.
There’s a low whistle just off my shoulder, and I tear my eyes away from him.
“Where has he been all night?” Carly sets the drinks on the table without looking at what she’s doing, and one of them almost topples off and onto the floor. I steady it, letting out a little laugh.
“What do you mean? We haven’t been here all night.”
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She glances at me, then locks her gaze back on him. Something tightens in my throat. I want her to stop looking at him like that, and I almost reach out and shake her.
That’s crazy. I warn myself in my sternest inner voice, and force myself to adjust my skirt a little bit instead. He’s not yours. He’s some guy you just saw in the club, and that’s all. That’s all.
I turn back toward the dance floor, only to see them disappear back into the crowd again. Carly glances at me with a big smile. “Do you know him?”
“No.”
She squeals. “Let’s get to know him. I think they’re definitely coming over here. And his friend!” She reaches out for my elbow, beaming into my face.
Five minutes ago, I was ready to be her wing woman, and that’s exactly what I should do. I should let Carly shine, like she always does in this kind of situation, and get to know the friend. The man moving toward us, with his muscles working underneath his jacket, his eyes still latched on me, will turn his attention to her as soon as he’s here. It’s always how this goes.
I take a deep breath. This is how it’s supposed to go. Nobody meets their future husband in a club, anyway. That just doesn’t happen. I know Carly thinks it might happen, but I’m more likely to meet Mr. Right in the library one day.
They reemerge from the crowd and close the distance between us.
The friend, in his dark t-shirt, steps forward with a flirty grin on his face, extending his hand to Carly, then to me. “Evening, ladies,” he says over the music. “My name’s Max, and this is my friend Sawyer.”
I can’t breathe. I can hardly focus on Max’s little handshake routine. Every cell in my body is on fire with how close Sawyer is to me, and even though I know it’s ridiculous to feel this way about a man I don’t know, I do. I do.
Sawyer’s eyes are on me. In the half-darkness of the club, I can just make out that his eyes are blue, and then only when the lights from the DJ area aren’t filtered with color. “Hey,” he says, then shrugs off his jacket.
Carly’s mouth falls open.
Sawyer’s wearing a gray t-shirt, and his muscled arms are covered in tattoos. None of them distract from his incredible chiseled physique. The sight of his arms makes me wonder what the rest of him looks like, what it would be like to watch him peel that t-shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, what it would be like to—
Heat rises in my cheeks. This is not the kind of thing I normally do. I don’t normally see men on the street and wonder what it would be like to be in bed with them, to have my hands sliding over those arms.
At least, if I do, I’m not the type to admit it.
And I’m not the type to fall for a guy like this.
From the set of his jaw, from the tattoos, from just the way he’s standing, he’s radiating danger. And I don’t take risks like this. Not anymore.
Maybe it’s the drink that’s making me want to. It has to be. Because I just…don’t.
Carly steps across to my other side and picks up her drink on the way, putting herself closer to Sawyer, and I try my very best not to let the bitter taste that’s suddenly in my mouth get the best of me. But I can’t take my eyes off him.
“I’m Carly,” she says with a smile that turns seductive midway through. “I love the name Sawyer.”
He takes his eyes off of me for one second, scans her up and down, and then says, “Who’s your friend?”
Carly’s face falls, and so does my heart. God, what a dick. She’s clearly into him, just trying to make an introduction, and he’s blown her off completely.
I want to tell him what my name is. I want to tell him a lot more than what my name is, and then I want to do a lot more than have a conversation. It’s ridiculous. He’s an ass, and even if the smoldering look in his eyes is turning me into puddle, I just can’t—
“Jesus, Sawyer. Don’t be such a prick. He didn’t mean it,” Max says to Carly, giving Sawyer a sharp nudge in the ribs. “He’s having a bad life.”
Sawyer lets out a short laugh and puts a little bit of a smile on his face, but he still clearly doesn’t care about Carly, about whether or not she’s about to throw herself at him. “You’re damn right. That was rude. Sorry.” The perfunctory apology isn’t enough to remove the frown from her face. I don’t know what she’s going to do next, but it’s not going to include continuing this conversation, and I want to, desperately. I shouldn’t, but I do.
More heat ricochets through my entire being at the way his eyes bore into mine.
Max laughs again. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Can we buy you ladies a drink?”
“Don’t you want to know my name first?” I say lamely, even though Carly’s narrowed eyes tell me that she’s on the verge of telling both of them off.
“Is it…Beautiful?” Max’s cheesy grin, along with the atrocious pick-up line, even makes Carly laugh a little bit. But then she turns to me.
“You can stay if you want, but I’m going to find…some different company.”
Then she turns on her heel and heads off into the crowd.
Sawyer’s eyes still burn into me.
I’ve never been this torn in my entire life.
Chapter 8
Sawyer
Max is right. I was an absolute prick to this gorgeous woman’s friend, and it’s my own damn fault that she’s on the verge of following her away from me right now.
Celia, or whatever her name was, is on the hunt for a man, and I’m not interested. There’s nothing I can do to force myself to be interested, even though she’s got a pretty face. Her friend, though, she is like the fucking sun. It’s hard to notice a lesser damn star in the daylight when you’re staring straight into it.
She’s got blonde hair that’s swept up on top of her head in a sleek bun, and I want to take the tie out and watch it uncurl over her shoulders. And her lips—God, those lips. She bites at her lower lip as she watches her friend move into the crowd, drink in hand.
“Damn,” she says softly, just under her breath, and then her big eyes are on mine again. I can’t tell if they’re green or blue in this ridiculous light show. I want to get her somewhere else, somewhere I can see her, even though I’m pretty sure it’s going to take me apart. Her full lips press together, into a little frown. “I should go with her.”
“You can’t,” I say, and her eyes widen a little. “You haven’t told us what your name is.” I’ve never been so fucking desperate to know someone’s name in my entire life, and part of me recoils from that desperation.
Max chimes in. “Yeah, what’s your name, Carly’s friend?”
That was it. Carly. I hear the name again and immediately dismiss it.
“Zelda,” she says with a little smile. “I really should catch up with her, though. We came here together.”
“Listen, how about this? You let Sawyer buy you a drink, and I’ll find your friend and buy her one, too.” Max nudges me again. “And apologize. For his asshole behavior.”
I expect her to brush me off. I expect her to say no a third time, to pick up her drink from the table and leave to head off to wherever Catrina went.
But she just smiles at Max. “Fair warning: she doesn’t give very many second chances.”
Max is gone before she can say another word, and finally my attention is all on her. I shove my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching out to touch her, and step closer instead. It’s damn hard to hear anything over this music. “So you do?” She leans a couple inches closer to me, and it’s like there are waves of heat coming off of her. I’m glad I took my jacket off because my skin feels hot and rough underneath my clothes.
“Do what?”
“You said your friend doesn’t give very many second chances. But you do?”
I can see her blushing, even in this fucked-up light, and damn, do I ever want to put my hand on her jaw and brush my thumb over that color. “You weren’t very nice to her.”
“I was distracted.”
I can see e
very breath she takes, her breasts rising underneath her shirt, and she’s radiating something sweet and sexy that I can’t turn my attention away from. I cannot tear myself away.
“The music is really loud.”
“By you.”
She laughs then, the sound somehow embarrassed and sexy all at once, and it’s all I can do not to kiss her right now. “That’s—I just came here to be a wing woman for Carly.”
“Something tells me she doesn’t need any help.”
Zelda smiles ruefully. “I guess not.” She glances behind her, toward the table, and then picks up her drink, taking a sip as she brings her eyes up to meet mine. “She did want me to find someone….”
“To do what?”
She grins at me, and it’s the nicest damn grin I’ve ever seen on a woman, somewhere between shy and ready to jump into my arms right now. But I’m totally fucking sober, and this isn’t the kind of woman I can take home for one night and kick to the curb in the morning. She’s different. She’s not one of the girls who hangs out here every weekend, looking for men. It’s not that she doesn’t seem confident…just not as confident as someone like her friend. This isn’t her scene, and I can see it in the way she wears her outfit, slightly self-conscious, in the way her expression shifts from questioning to wanting, switching by the second.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even be talking to her. I bet she has a normal job, with a nice, regular life, and I…
I’m dangerous.
I’m way too fucking dangerous.
I suck in a breath, trying to get a handle on myself.
My work for Domino has given me a reputation in the city. More than one person, I’m sure, has said behind my back that someday all of it will catch up with me. And my dad isn’t the kind of person—
I shake my head a little, covering it with a smile. This is a girl I met in a damn dance club. I don’t need to be thinking about introducing her to my asshole father.