by Rayne, Piper
“I tried. Come on. It’s our first night here.” I’m urging her to go out because if she stays, I’ll be tempted to stay as well, and that’ll only give me blue balls. At least this way I can maybe find someone who looks like her and bring her home.
Yes, I’ve decided to bring a girl back home with me at some point. Do I want to make Bella jealous? Hell fucking yes. I’m fully aware it’s a dick move, but I know deep in my gut that she wants me like I want her. Why can’t she admit it? We’re adults. Even if we’re not going to act on our feelings, she can still be truthful about them.
She places the phone on the counter. “You’re going?”
“I’ll go if you go.”
“And if I don’t?” She crosses her arms. The low-cut shirt she’s wearing only shows me the exact spot I’d like my face to be.
“I can think of a lot of things we could do if we stay.” I step closer.
She slides off her stool. “Fine, I’ll go.”
See how she never said it won’t happen? As if she might give in to me if we did stay in…
“Perfect.” I head in the other direction to get dressed.
An hour later—because Evie and Mae are obviously not the low-key girls I thought they were—Dom, who I coerced into coming, and I are sitting in the living room.
“Car’s here,” Dom yells.
He’s snippy because I told him I’m going to screw Bella tonight if he doesn’t come out with us. The thing about my older brother is that he’s kind of the one who keeps the Mancini boys in line. I’m not sure if it’s Mama’s doing from when we were younger or not, but he’s hell-bent on making sure we don’t mess up. And let’s be real, if I mess with Bella, this whole Hamptons summer house thing will be screwed by my screwing.
Regardless, he’s here, which will do him good. Whatever’s been up his ass lately can maybe wiggle itself out while he’s dancing with some chick.
“Coming.”
“Coming.”
“One sec.”
Heels click against the hardwood stairs before the three women present themselves. They’re all done up in skimpy outfits, but my eyes are only on the redhead.
What can I say? I fixate on the things I like.
Bella’s wearing a silky tank top that ties around her neck, blocking any view of her cleavage, but the way it clings to her highlights the round shape of her breasts in an elegant way that’s still sexy as fuck. Her shorty shorts show off her long legs, and her heels cause saliva to pool inside my mouth. Big Carm just grew a couple inches.
“Let’s go.” Dom stands from the couch.
I follow.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Evie asks, spinning around.
“You all look good…” My eyes zero in on Bella, who catches me soaking her in.
“Huh. And here I thought you knew how to sweet-talk a woman.” Evie is the first one out the door.
Mae follows, leaving Bella, and I press my hand to the small of her back, getting close enough that no one else hears. “You’re stunning, and if you were trying to get me to not notice you, you wore the wrong outfit.”
Her back straightens and her body trembles.
Now tell me she doesn’t feel something.
“Stop taunting,” Dom says from behind me.
Bella catches up with her friends, and just as I’m about to climb in next to her, Dom yanks me back by the collar of my shirt.
“You can ride shotgun.” He slides in next to Bella.
I release a frustrated sigh, taking the seat next to the Uber driver of the seven-seater SUV.
Evie and Mae talk non-stop about how excited they are, and I wonder how much they drank while getting ready. Bella is quiet, and Dom doesn’t say anything other than directing the driver where we’re going.
The music is thumping at the outside bar when we arrive. The girls pile out, Evie leading the way. She sweet-talks the bouncer and they walk in. We approach only to have the asshole put up his hand. Dom slips him a hundred and he steps aside. Money can buy everything.
“Thanks, big bro!” I slap him on the back while trying to find the girls. They obviously don’t care if they party with us.
“Next time, you’re up. I’m going to the bar.” He winds through the throngs of people while my eyes scour the crowd for the redhead who’s quickly becoming my obsession.
By the time I spot her, the three girls are on the deck that overlooks the ocean. Two guys have found their way to them, one looking like he’s purchasing their drinks.
Fuck this. What the hell am I doing? Chasing some chick to try to get her out of my mind? There are lots of women who can do that.
Instead of heading to the deck, I follow Dom to the bar.
“Two shots of whiskey.” Dom raises his fingers in case the bartender can’t hear how many.
“Shots?” I ask.
Dom isn’t a get-drunk-quick kind of guy. Whenever he does lose control, it’s at a wedding or a bachelor party. Where the day is long and one drink spills into the next and before you know it, eight hours have passed. He’s never been the one who drinks as much as possible to get loaded.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I thought one of the shots—”
“No.”
The bartender places both shot glasses in front of him and pours the alcohol. As I’m ordering my beer, Dom downs the shots. I look quizzically to my left.
“Another two,” Dom says.
The bartender removes the cap from my bottle of beer then pours another two shots of whiskey. Dom downs them and stalks off without a word.
“Hey!” the bartender calls after him.
“I got it.” I pull my cash out of my pocket and tip him generously with the hope that next time he sees me, he’ll come my way first.
Taking my beer, I search for Dom, but he’s nowhere in sight. Did he really just ditch me? What happened to being each other’s wingmen?
I head toward the deck, figuring that maybe he joined the girls, when a woman approaches me.
“Hey, I know you,” she says, brushing her blonde hair off her shoulder.
“You do?” I analyze her face for any recognition but come up empty.
“Yeah, you’re the one with the billboards.” She points at me and stumbles to the side. Laughter pours out of her as a friend of hers comes over and steadies her.
“Sorry,” the woman says, holding her friend by the waist.
“It’s okay. Excuse me.” I slide by them, not in the mood to deal with a drunk girl all over me because of my billboards. I normally enjoy that, but as much as I try to stay away from Bella, I keep being drawn to her.
The women are still outside, Evie and Mae talking with the two guys while Bella is farther down the railing, all by herself, staring at the ocean with an empty glass in her hand.
I close the distance between us, always wanting what I shouldn’t.
Chapter Sixteen
Bella
“I thought the point of coming here was to have fun?” Carm sidles up next to me, resting his forearms on the wooden deck railing and staring out at the ocean.
The man is gorgeous in fluorescent lighting, but with the moonlight shining on his features? My stomach and my thighs clench.
“I told you I wasn’t much for going out tonight.”
“Why not?” he asks.
I sip my drink, but only ice cubes hit my top lip. Carm offers his beer, but I shake my head. “The pressure of this Bond Street deal is weighing on me. How on Earth do I find a way to sell them for sale by owner without wining and dining? Let’s be serious for a moment—what client is going to spend millions when I don’t even show them the unit myself or run through the contract with them?”
He chuckles, sips his beer, and holds it out in front of him. “It’s definitely a disadvantage.”
“New builds are different than existing properties with homeowners living there. I have to rely on Helena to walk them through the place, and I can’t afford to do all t
he things you can to fish for buyers.”
He nods. He’s been in the game longer than me. He knows the score and can’t really offer me much advice.
“I shouldn’t even be telling you this.”
“I don’t want us to be that way. I get that we’re pitted against one another here, but it doesn’t mean we can’t try to be friends.”
I nod, wishing I could’ve met him under different circumstances. Carm isn’t the forever guy, but I bet he’d be a pretty good one-night stand and maybe even a better booty call.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he bumps me with his shoulder. “You’re thinking really hard. Let’s blow off some steam. That’s what these weekends are for, aren’t they?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I think you just want in my pants.”
He laughs, his ego-driven smirk on display. “You know me well, but I’ll keep my hands to myself. No need to complicate things further.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure you can handle that?”
“I’m a grown man. I can control myself no matter how tempting you are.”
Why does my body react when he says things like that? Every time he compliments me, my stomach zings as though I’m at the top of a roller coaster, staring over the edge, waiting for the drop.
“Let’s get another drink.” I turn around and head to the bar.
Evie and Mae are flirting with the two British guys who approached us when we first arrived. Feeling like the fifth wheel, I slowly ventured away from them. No one bothered me after that until Carm found me, as if he’s a K-9 with my scent and can locate me anywhere.
Carm slides money toward the bartender. “It’s on me.”
Once we have our drinks, we head to a table tucked into the corner. The heat wave has passed, and the nights aren’t super hot yet.
“Have you sold a unit yet?” I’ve been dying to know. He’s had an entire week, and this is Carmelo Mancini. There’s a reason he’s so well-known in New York real estate, and it’s not just his billboards.
He sips his beer. “No.”
A huge breath leaves my throat.
“But I’m close. I have a client in from Los Angeles. She’s been looking for a long time and I think a unit on Bond Street will suit her needs. She’s just a slow decision-maker.”
“The woman from the elevator?” I ask.
Truthfully, that woman gave me the vibe I was stepping on her territory just because I was talking to Carm in the hallway.
He nods. “Yeah, that’s her.” His gaze moves to the dance floor.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I lean closer to him. My second margarita on the rocks has done wonders to relax me.
“That could be dangerous.” His smile. A man shouldn’t be allowed to have those white teeth and such a perfect grin. He winks and puts his finger in the air. “One question.”
“What made you go into real estate?”
His entire body seems to lose some of the tension. “I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny. Real estate is a good biz for that. I work hard and I get paid for the work I do. The harder I work, the more money I make. I love the art of the deal and every client, every property, is different. It keeps it interesting.”
“So it’s not about the clients?”
“That’s two questions.” He raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows.
I bet he manscapes.
“Consider it an amendment to the original question.”
He grins. “No, it’s not about the clients. I mean, I like to make them happy when I get the price they want or find them the perfect space to move into, but as far as lasting relationships, I have to admit, that’s not what makes me tick. I do what I need to in order to get the job done. But I’d never screw anyone over.” He takes a long pull of his beer.
“Have you ever slept with a client?” I laugh to play off my question, but the woman in the hallway comes to mind.
His eyes meet mine. “No.” Then he drinks his beer.
I sip my margarita, thinking I may have crossed the line. “Did I offend you?”
“Listen, I get what my billboards represent, but it’s just to stand out and be different. To entice potential clients to call me rather than the other way around.”
“Use what you can, huh?”
He’s smiling and seems not at all upset, so maybe I didn’t ruin our conversation by asking. “What about you?”
My body clams up and I down the rest of my margarita, pushing my bad memories to the back of my mind. “No.”
He tilts his head, studying me as though he heard something in my answer. “Did I touch a nerve?”
“I’m going to get another drink.”
“Bella?” He grasps my elbow, stopping me from sliding off the stool.
I plaster on my usual smile and turn around to face him. “Of course you didn’t. We said we were going to have fun and blow off steam. I need another drink to do that.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and for a moment, my nose tickles and I think he’ll call my bluff. But he gets off his stool. “I get the drinks when you’re with me. Sit down.”
I watch longingly as he ventures to the bar. A woman approaches him, but he doesn’t bite, which shouldn’t relieve me as much as it does. Looking at all the sweaty bodies on the dance floor, I remember when I couldn’t stand to be at a place like this because anxiety and fear crippled me.
“Here you go.” He slides my drink over to me and gets back onto the stool across from me. “There’s Dom.”
He’s easy to find, dancing with some brunette. The two of them are more making out than dancing.
“She’s cute,” I say.
“How can you tell? He’s attached to her.” He laughs. “There’s something about her that seems familiar though.”
“You can only see her back,” I say.
He shrugs. “I never forget a face. Or an ass.” He winks and I shake my head and sip my drink.
Dom and his mystery woman disappear shortly after and “One Dance” by Drake comes on and my body responds, bobbing to the beat. My eyes close as I mouth the words. I love this song.
“You like this song?” Carm asks.
I open my eyes to find his on me. There’s heat there. Heat that could burn me if I admit to myself how badly I want him.
“I do.” I consciously try to stop my shoulders and hips from moving.
“Come on.” He downs the rest of his beer and places the empty on the table.
“What about my drink?” I ask.
“Either down it or I’ll buy you another after.” He waits next to me at the table.
It’s clear he won’t take no for an answer, so I down the rest of my drink, take his hand to help me down, and he leads me to the dance floor. His hands land on my hips as we sway, getting the feel of one another. He swivels me around so that my ass is positioned in front of his groin, and his hands move me the way he wants.
“Just go with it,” he whispers in my ear, his chest pressed to my back.
I’m not sure if it’s his words or being in a throng of people and having the safety of him near, but I do let myself go. I move my hips and my shoulders, my head falling back and landing on his chest.
Sweat trickles between my breasts, and my ass grinds into his crotch. His hands venture places I’d never allow if we weren’t dancing, skimming down the sides of my ribcage. The DJ does a great job of shifting into one catchy song after another.
Carm’s eyes watch me as he turns me around to face him, stepping into my personal space, but I welcome him with my arms around his neck. My hips swing, and I push out my breasts. Couples around us are just as into it, and I lose myself for a moment, becoming the girl I was once so familiar with but lost somewhere in the abyss.
By the time we finish, we’re both sweaty and Carm’s T-shirt is just about drenched. We head off the dance floor.
“Another drink?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He buys us another set of drinks, and since our t
able is now taken, he takes my hand and leads me down to the beach.
“How did I never do this before?” I sip my drink, but it does nothing to cool my body down.
“I know. First night and I already regret the last eight years my friends have asked me to join them and I declined.”
He sits in the sand a fair distance from the ocean, and I sit down, right next to him.
“Thank you,” I say, stirring the ice cubes in my drink.
“For what?” He props his elbows on his knees, his beer bottle tucked between his thumb and forefinger, hanging in the air.
“For distracting me tonight. Reminding me why I came here.”
“I could say the same. I would’ve stayed in and worked otherwise. Probably would have had to listen to Annie and Enzo banging all night.”
“You’re still thanking me even though you won’t be getting lucky?” I raise my eyebrows.
He chuckles. “You mean I did all this foreplay for nothing?” His smile says he’s messing with me.
“You thought a few drinks and a half hour of dancing would do the job?”
“Definitely not. I know you’re a game-changer.” His eyes find mine in the moonlight, and the casual vibe between us evaporates.
The waves slowly crest on the beach, and a soft breeze ruffles my hair. I lick my lips because I want him to kiss me. I want to confess that he did get me with the dancing. He granted me the security to do what I love.
“What does that mean?” I whisper.
He shifts his weight. One arm extends behind him and his other hand brushes a piece of sweaty hair behind my ear. “You’re not really the type of girl who’s happy with a one-night stand.”
He’s right, but I desperately wish he was wrong. I’ve never wanted to be that carefree girl who can take what she wants when she wants it and never be invested. But I’ve learned the hard way that I’m not that girl. I’m the girl who will anticipate his call the next day. The girl who will want to get to know more about him. The girl who ends up heartbroken in the end.
“Sorry, I guess?”
He shakes his head, and his finger trails down the side of my neck and over my shoulder. My goose bumps chase his touch, begging him to not stop, but sadly, his finger falls from my skin before he reaches my hand. “Never be sorry for that. You demand respect. It’s one of the best things about you.”