by Erika Wilde
Which meant she intended to find a guy who would appreciate the outfit. With that declaration ringing in his ears, she turned around and sashayed toward the poker tables, drawing the heated, interested stares of the opposite sex as she walked by. The wolves smiled at her, and she returned the sentiment, making it clear she was single and available.
Fuck him. It was going to be a long night.
6
“What’s up with Dylan?” Chelsea asked as they used the mirror in the ladies’ lounge to check their hair and makeup before heading back out into the nightclub fray. “He’s been acting moody since the two of you met Eric and me at the poker table. Now, he’s sitting by the bar scowling over . . . well, I have no idea what he’s brooding about.”
Serena laughed. After two very strong cocktails, she was feeling really good, and refused to let Dylan’s weird attitude put a damper on her evening. “I think he’s scowling because of me. Or rather, something that happened that involved me at the roulette table.”
“Oh, do tell,” Chelsea said, her tone intrigued as she opened her compact and powdered her face.
While touching up her lip gloss, Serena told her what had happened, along with Dylan’s domineering reaction to another guy touching her. “I don’t get it. He’s got this whole Jekyll-and-Hyde thing going on tonight. And right now, he’s all Mr. Hyde.”
Chelsea smiled knowingly. “It’s the dress. It’s clearly bringing out the conflicted beast in him. Dylan wants you, but he’s fighting the desire because of the whole BFF thing he’s pigeonholed you into. And he’s hating that other guys are lusting after you when he can’t have you.”
It was hard for Serena to wrap her mind around that concept when Dylan had never openly shown that kind of interest in her. “He’s never seen me as anything more than a best friend.”
“Care to test that theory?” Chelsea dared.
A part of her was tempted to do just that. “How?”
Chelsea dropped her compact back into her little purse, her eyes sparkling devilishly. “Find a guy and go out on that dance floor and dance like you’re a stripper . . . minus the taking-off-your-clothes part, of course,” she said with a laugh. “If that doesn’t unhinge Dylan and get a reaction out of him, then he’s never going to take you out of the friend zone. In the meantime, I’m going to go dance with Eric like I’m a stripper, and if I’m lucky, the clothes will be coming off tonight.”
She waggled her brows, and Serena was pretty sure that Chelsea and Eric would be hooking up at some point tonight. There was a definite attraction between them, and neither one was looking for anything serious, so why not?
They headed out of the ladies’ room, the obnoxiously loud techno music making Serena’s whole body vibrate with the beat. She considered Chelsea’s advice to head right out onto the dance floor with some random guy, but she wanted to give Dylan one more opportunity to stop being a grouch and have some fun, because everyone was having a great time but him when he should be celebrating the contract he’d signed earlier.
She found him sitting alone at the small round table where he’d been since they’d arrived, and he watched her approach, his eyes hooded and his expression less than inviting. But one of his cantankerous dispositions had never scared her off before, and she wasn’t going to be deterred now.
Reaching the table and standing across from Dylan, she placed her hands on the wood surface and bent toward him so he could hear her over the loud music. His gaze dropped briefly to the breasts that were now eye level for him, before his jaw visibly tightened and he lifted his gaze to hers.
“Dance with me?” she asked in a playful, cajoling tone that did nothing to soften his features.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “Not in the mood.”
It was the third time she’d asked him tonight, and it was now the last. “Okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” she said, straightening again. “I am in the mood, so I guess I’ll have to go and find someone else who is, too.”
She reached for his drink and finished whatever was inside in two gulps, ignoring the burn of liquor down her throat because she was going to need the liquid fortitude for what she was going to do next—dance like she was a stripper.
It didn’t take Serena long to find a willing partner, and as Dylan watched her and some guy out on the dance floor, his stomach twisted into a knot of conflicting emotions, with envy and lust topping the list He was also feeling possessive—like, caveman-level possessive—which he had no right to be. Serena was free to do whatever she wanted with the stranger, even if Dylan wanted her for himself.
And right now, she was dancing like she had zero inhibitions left, which was the first time he’d ever seen her so brazen and openly sensual when she was usually much more modest and reserved. Her body was loose and fluid, despite the four-inch heels she was wearing. Her hips swayed provocatively in that sexy, shimmering dress, and the sultry, inviting smile she bestowed on the muscle head she was with made Dylan clench his jaw, hard.
It was complete torture to witness her seducing some random guy, to think about the possibility that she might do something completely out of character for her after having a few cocktails—like leave with her dance partner and have a one-night stand. And considering how cozy the two of them seemed to be getting, that scenario worried him more with each passing minute.
The song segued into another, and the guy she was with grew bolder, more daring with his touches. He looped an arm around her waist and anchored Serena up against his body, and much to Dylan’s dismay, she looped her hands around his neck and followed his lead in a dirty dance that set him on edge. When the man’s hands drifted down to grab her ass so he could grind against her, Dylan shot out of his chair and reached the couple in record speed, and just like earlier at the roulette table, he asserted himself—to protect her from doing something potentially stupid with a total stranger. Never mind his own personal envy issues.
He gently but firmly grabbed Serena’s arm and pried the two apart. She looked up at him with wide, startled eyes, and the guy shot him a dark, irritated glance meant to dissuade Dylan from poaching on what he believed was now his territory.
“What the hell, man?” the muscle head said gruffly. “You need to back off and find your own woman to dance with. This one’s mine.”
The fact that the guy referred to Serena as a possession rankled Dylan even more. “Actually, she’s mine,” he said, staking his own claim. “She’s here with me.”
The other man’s gaze shifted to Serena. “Are you? Here with him?”
She sighed in resignation, and even though Dylan knew she wasn’t happy with his interference once again, she made her choice, and thank God it was him. “Yes, I am.”
Relief flooded through him. She could have said no. She could have outed him as a friend. She could have blown him off and walked out of the nightclub with the guy, but Dylan knew that wasn’t Serena’s style or MO. That this flashy, wanton Vegas persona wasn’t her in real life, and had most likely been an act to make him sweat. Well, the joke was on her because if that had been her ploy, she definitely had his attention.
“You could have told me earlier,” the guy muttered, then stalked off the dance floor, leaving Dylan and Serena facing one another.
She braced her hands on her hips, her eyes now flashing with annoyance. “That’s the second time tonight you scared off a guy. You can’t keep doing that.”
“Yes, I can,” he argued. “I invited you to Vegas, so you are with me.”
Understanding dawned across her expression. “Are you trying to cock block me?” she asked incredulously.
One hundred percent yes. “No. You’ve asked me to dance. Three times. I’m here. Now let’s dance.”
He barked the words out like an order, and instead of irritating Serena, a devious smile curved her lips, and she did exactly what he’d asked, but in a way they’d never danced before. In previous situations
, dancing together had been all platonic, wholesome, friendly fun with teasing and laughing and busting out some of the latest dance moves to keep things light and entertaining.
Not so tonight. Tonight, she was embracing her inner bad girl, when she’d always been the quintessential good girl, which made the transformation even more arousing. There was nothing innocent or chaste about the way Serena moved her body to the beat of the music, or how she lifted the hair from the back of her neck and executed a slow, sensual shimmy that made his dick excruciatingly hard. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and caressed her hands along the sides of her breasts and down her hips, then turned around and brushed her curvy bottom against the front of his pants, causing a dozen dirty, filthy thoughts to trample through his brain.
Fucking hell. She was deliberately taunting him, testing to see just how far she could push his limits before his restraint totally snapped. She was close to achieving her goal. So fucking close it took every ounce of effort he possessed to keep his hands to himself, instead of securing his arm around her waist, anchoring her body tight to his, and grinding his aching cock against her ass and shocking the hell out of her with his blatant erection when she believed he was immune to her as a desirable, fuckable woman.
After three agonizingly long songs, Dylan was desperate to put distance between them. “I think it’s time we call it a night,” he said, glancing around the club for Eric and Chelsea but not finding either one.
“I thought you wanted to dance,” she said, and he didn’t miss the sassy, mocking tone to her voice as she raised her hands above her head and swiveled her hips way too sensually.
Oh, yeah, she was totally yanking his chain. “We danced, it’s almost midnight, and now it’s time to go.”
“I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, so I’m good.” She gave him a little finger wave as she continued to dance. “You go right ahead, though, and I’ll see you in the morning when it’s time to leave for the airport.”
He shook his head adamantly. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself.”
She blinked at him guilelessly. “Why not? I’m a big girl, Dylan.”
“Because you’ve had a few drinks,” he said, stating the obvious.
“You don’t trust my judgment?”
She finally stopped moving, her face beautifully flushed, just how he’d always imagined she’d look after sex. Stop fucking thinking about sex with her, asshole, because your dick can’t take much more visual stimulation.
“No, I don’t trust the men here not to take advantage of you,” he replied honestly. “I can’t find Chelsea and Eric, so I’d feel much better knowing you were safe and sound in your room for the night and not in this nightclub alone.”
“Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” she said for the second time this evening, which only made him grumpier. “It was fun while it lasted.”
Grateful she’d agreed, he took her hand and they made their way through the crowded club. Once outside the venue, he released his hold on her and they walked quietly to the bank of elevators, where a whole group of people shuffled into the lift behind them, squishing Dylan and Serena into the back corner.
Her warmth and scent wreaked havoc on his senses with every breath he took. He was still on edge from her rubbing up against him on the dance floor, and it didn’t help matters that her backside was inches away from finding out just how hot and bothered she’d managed to make him. He was so excruciatingly hard his dick throbbed for relief, which sadly it wasn’t going to get tonight, and he shifted his stance so his erection didn’t end up prodding Serena’s ass.
It seemed to take forever until they reached their floor, and they quietly walked down the hall toward their separate junior suites, which were located directly across from each other, with him and Eric on one side, and her and Chelsea on the other.
She retrieved her key card from the small purse she’d worn with the strap across her body so she didn’t have to hold the bag. He started to tell her good night as she waved the plastic card in front of the lock mechanism, but the faint sounds he heard coming from inside her room—unmistakable moaning, groaning, sex noises—had him blurting out, “Don’t open the door!” right as she pushed inside.
She sucked in a startled breath and froze as she belatedly realized what she’d just walked in on—their friends getting laid. With each other. Half-dressed, Eric was sitting on the couch in the living room area, with Chelsea straddling his lap, her dress hiked up to the tops of her thighs as they kissed and groped and moaned in pleasure, oblivious to the fact that they had an audience. Jesus, out of courtesy, the least they could have done was hang the do-not-disturb sign on the door.
“Oh, crap,” Dylan heard Serena rasp. Clearly flustered, she spun around, and in her haste to get out of the room, she slammed right into him as the door shut behind her.
The unexpected impact had her wobbling on her heels, and his hands automatically shot out to grab her arms, then hauled her close to keep her steady on her feet.
Big fucking mistake. Not only because her sweet, firm breasts were crushed against his chest and her body plastered to his, but the big, round eyes staring up at him in shock had nothing to do with what they’d just witnessed and everything to do with the stiff length of his erection tenting his pants that was now pressing insistently against her belly.
“Oh my God, are you turned on because you just saw . . .”
Her words trailed off, but he knew what, or whom, she was referring to. The easy answer was to say yes, even if it did make him look like a pervert, but the frustration he’d been dealing with all night was at its tipping point and overrode common sense.
“No, it’s because of you, Serena,” he said through gritted teeth, the filter on his words having gone AWOL. “I’ve been hard as a rock since you wiggled your ass against my dick out on the dance floor. I’m a man, you’re gorgeous and hot as hell, so yeah, I fucking want you.”
Time stood still as the truth spilled out of him, his heart racing in his chest at what he’d just revealed. Serena’s lips parted, her features etched at first with disbelief, then quickly shifting to hope and elation, then on to something more daring and courageous.
“It’s now or never,” he heard her whisper right before she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him . . . not like a friend, but a sinfully sexy lover.
This couldn’t happen. Stop her, his brain shouted as their mouths merged and her tongue touched his bottom lip enticingly . . . but the accumulation of desire he’d harbored for his best friend for so many years finally crashed through every bit of self-discipline he had left, which wasn’t much at this point.
He was helpless to resist her, and he suddenly no longer wanted to.
7
Serena knew taking a chance and kissing Dylan was a huge leap of faith with the outcome being a potential rejection, but after listening to him confess the reason for being so aroused—because of her—she’d decided to throw caution to the wind and finally just go for it. And ohmigod, once Dylan had gotten past the initial shock of the hot, intimate kiss she’d planted on him, the risk she’d taken was so worth the reward.
At the teasing touch of her tongue along his bottom lip, he groaned and framed her face in his hands and took control. Tipping her head to the side, he slanted his mouth over hers in a hot, deep, lust-driven kiss that had her entire body responding to his greedy, possessive conquest. Her nipples tightened into hard points, heat curled in her belly, and slick need dampened her panties.
Clenching her fingers in his hair, she arched against him, wanting more, needing more. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so electrified so quickly with any other man, couldn’t recall a time when she wanted to just tear a guy’s clothes off because she was so impatient to feel him inside her. And judging by the thick length of Dylan’s cock searing her though their clothes, there was a lot to feel.
She moaned softly and moved restlessly against him, rubbing her aching breasts a
gainst his chest and rolling her hips slowly and seductively, causing a deep, impatient growl to rumble in his chest. With his mouth still fused to hers, he pulled her forward while he walked backward, and she was more than willing to follow wherever he led if it meant tasting more of his dirty, sexy kisses. She felt him fumble for something in his pocket and, a moment later, heard the soft click of his hotel room door unlocking. He shoved it open with his backside, let it slam after they were both inside, then promptly pushed her up against the nearest wall.
He wedged one thigh between hers, pressing high and pinning her lower body in place as he pulled his mouth from hers and stared down at her, his eyes blazing with a blistering heat she’d never seen him direct at her before. Both of them were breathing hard, and bracing one arm above her head, he splayed his other hand at the base of her throat and caressed his thumb along the rapid beat of her pulse fluttering there.
She swallowed hard, knowing this was a defining moment between them, especially when she saw the agonizing doubts and second thoughts chasing across his expression. He closed his eyes and lightly touched his forehead to hers, his warm breath feathering across her cheek.
“Serena . . .”
His voice was ragged and torn, and wavered with uncertainties. Serena reached up and touched her fingertips to his clenched jaw, her only thought to waylay any hesitations holding him back, because she had absolutely none about him and where this was heading. It felt as though she’d waited a lifetime for this opportunity, for him to finally see her as more than just his best girl friend, and after that hungry, demanding kiss that said more about his attraction to her than words ever could, she wasn’t going to let this perfect moment slip through her fingers.
“I want this,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his to reinforce her statement while slipping her hands into his suit jacket and pushing it off his shoulders because she was dying to touch his bare skin in a very intimate and sexual way. “I want you, so please don’t tell me no.”