Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  After clinking glasses and a tingling gulp of champagne, Cory sipped her drink and watched the lights go from blue to pink on the dance floor. This wasn’t the Double Diamond back home. Techno music roared and she downed the rest of her champagne, slamming her glass down on the table.

  “Who’s up for the dance floor?” Cory shouted above the music. She jumped up from her seat, a bit wobbly as the alcohol hit her brain, and leaned on the table. “Whoa!”

  Everyone’s hand shot up except Carolina’s. “I’ll stay here and watch the purses.”

  “Bull crap,” Cory replied. “You’re coming with.”

  Carolina’s eyes shot to the dance floor alive with people and hugged her belly. “Oh, fine. What harm could a little dancing do?”

  “That’s the spirit. It’s not like Matt is here. Jeez.” Cory reached down to help her sister-in-law to her feet. “When those babies come, the only floor you’ll be seeing is in that amazing nursery you’ve designed. Better enjoy tonight.”

  The bachelorette party reconvened on the dance floor. Bodies in motion, it was a sea of people, and Cory felt free to go to town.

  “Here.” Gillian shoved a shot glass in her hand. “It looks like you need liquid courage. I can’t, but you can drink for both of us.”

  “Looks dangerous,” Cory said, unable to tell what was in the glass. With the colored lights, it looked like layers of red and orange and clear liquid. She didn’t think too hard and downed the drink. “What was that?” she croaked. If Gillian said it was kerosene-laced she’d not argue.

  Even nine months pregnant, Carolina held her own on the dance floor and next to her with arms raised, Gillian swayed to the blaring beat. The strobe light flashed blinding glare alternated with moments of darkness. Cory closed her eyes, and the image of Brett filled her. She danced, refusing to care how she looked. All she knew was that this was the first real college break she’d been on and it felt fan-freaking-tastic. The music ripped a hole in her and she moved, letting go of all boundaries.

  Hair whipping, body crushed by other bodies, her feet moving to the music, and then, she felt him. Not touching her. It was some force field he exerted on her. Her skin tightened. She opened her eyes, looked up and met fire. Emerald flames licked down her body, setting off a chain reaction within her alcohol-soaked mind. Something deep inside her belly burst free.

  “I couldn’t wait. I’m here for my dance.” Brett didn’t wait for her answer. He reached out and pulled her to him. “You look amazing. You’re an incredible dancer.”

  She gave in and didn’t fight. Staring upward, she lightly traced fingers over his chiseled jaw and cheeks. His mouth had her attention and all she could think about was kissing him. Oh Dallas! One night to be free.

  “I wish…” She stopped, aghast. She’d almost said the words out loud.

  “What do you wish?” Brett whispered against her ear, his lips ghosting over her jaw.

  Cory reached out and pulled him by the lapels of his jacket closer, making them go from polite dance distance to up close and dirty-personal.

  “That you’d kiss me,” she said, staring up him, her heart ready to burst out of her chest.

  He smiled, a type she’d not seen on him yet, and thank God for that. Whoa! He had a pair of killer dimples that reached deep inside her and poured more fuel on the smolder he’d already awakened. The flames shot upward, blasting open her desire for hot, crazy, and now.

  “Come here,” he said, without shouting, mouthing really, and their powerful attraction came alive.

  His two words tore through her. Brett lowered his head, brushing his mouth over her cheek. Every cell in her body responded as though he had a secret weapon that delivered a potent dose of sex appeal and whispered about a dangerous arsenal of provocative moves. A primal chain reaction melted her from the inside out. Watch out!

  In his arms, she stood hip-to-hip and he shifted, pressing his erection against her belly. His hardness only made her own ache sharper. Her untamed need for him stormed within her hurling her into the realm of reckless. She had to feel more of him. Utter madness. She consciously ignored the warning bells going off inside her head and ground against him. The feel of him, rigid and ready, buzzed across her nerve endings with a wildfire lust gone out of control. Ironically, steam began to rise up from the floor and she laughed, squeezing his arms under her fingertips.

  “So perfect,” she whispered of the moist mists, erotic and the perfect hideout. His erection pushed into her but not enough to assuage her need of him. Reaching down between them, she ran her hand along the length his hard cock, straining inside his pants.

  “Sweetheart.” Hissing, he closed his eyes, blocking out his feral expression. He arched against her palm, growing harder. When he opened his eyes, he pulled her to

  him, reaching down to the edge of her dress. “You’re a minx. So damn wild.”

  Was she wild? She’d been many things in her life. Spoiled. Pampered. Sheltered. But definitely not wild. The way he said it made her want to be wild with him, and then some. “You’re the one who’s wild.”

  He laughed and moved as if to kiss her, his mouth landing at the corner of her lips. His sandpaper cheek scratched against her face, inflaming her need to taste him. She clung to him to keep from stumbling.

  “Please. I’m so close,” she murmured, her thoughts infiltrated by a searing haze. His cock pressed into her, his hand held her steady against him.

  “Then let go. I’ll catch you.”

  The lighting went from strobe back to rainbow-colored. Under pink lights, Cory glanced around and noticed they’d moved to a corner away from the bachelorette partiers. But she noticed several eyes flashing over toward them, letting her know she was marked. She waved and smiled at her friends and family and dropped her hand once Ashley’s face came into view. The realization she might get tagged as the bar skank became a possibility upon seeing her cousin’s smirk. Cory’s stomach twisted into an oh hell no knot. If she didn’t gather her self-control, she’d be on her way to doing something outrageous and impossible to live down.

  She pushed away from Brett. Stretching her arms upward and swaying her hips, she turned until she had her back to him. The fiery ache to reconnect to his body splintered apart inside her. They danced this way with the deafening music that made talk impossible, and she basked in his heat, grazing her ass and hips over his thighs and crotch, all the while appearing innocent as a lamb as long as he didn’t reach over and take hold of her. A big part of her wanted to lean into him, soak up his masculinity, and let him pump his erection against her bottom. It was the other part of her, bound by the Annona rumor mill, which refused to give up the struggle to remain above criticism and made her uptight.

  “Hey, what happened?” Brett whispered in her ear. “I was enjoying watching your very sexy expression as you danced.”

  She turned around, biting her lip as she contemplated whether to tell him the truth or not. “I’ve got family and…” Shaking her head, she stopped talking. The loud music made talking impossible unless she shouted or pressed up against him. She groaned in frustration.

  Leaning over, without pulling her against him, he brushed her hair behind her ear. “They talk,” he supplied after a beat but she refrained from going there. His warm breath grazed her neck and she had to remind herself to keep her wandering hands down by her sides.

  She breathed out. “Yeah. I come from a seriously small town.”

  He stared down into her face. “Who is making your life a living hell?”

  Cory could feel her brows drawing together. “How do you know?”

  “Rumor mills don’t run themselves. They need a town gossip.” He jerked his chin across the dance floor. “Someone over there is staring a hole in you. Aren’t they?”

  Sheepishly, she looked down. “I know I shouldn’t care.”

  He gently hooked his forefinger under her chin and lifted her face until their gazes locked. “Who is it?” />
  Again, she bit her lip. She’d look like a weakling, unable to take care of her own business. “This is crazy. What are you going to do? Knock some sense into her. There’s no point in me gossiping about gossip.”

  “Fight fire with fire,” he whispered, his mouth grazing over her cheek then hovered near her ear. “I bet I can tell in five guesses who has it in for you.”

  She gasped at the shiver he caused in her body. “I’d like to see you do that.”

  “What are you willing to bet?”

  “Is that how this whole evening is going down? I feel like I’m on Let’s Make a Deal.”

  “I’m not into appliances, baby. I want five minutes. Alone with you. And yes, in a room away from prying eyes.” His fiery gaze heated her body in what seemed like molten lava pouring over her skin. Every place his eyes alighted on her sweltered.

  Holy cow. She’d never wanted a man this much. “This is a trick. And I’m not disappearing with you just for pointing out the town gossip. If I leave with you, how do you think that will go over?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m going to give you the means to protect yourself. I repeat, fire with fire.”

  “How?” she asked. What was he talking about?

  “I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He picked up her hand, squeezing firmly.

  “You’re asking me to trust you.” Not a lot to lose considering, for some unknown reason, she already trusted him. Unconsciously, she glanced across the dance floor, meeting several pairs of eyes, and yes, Ashley’s sneer only made answering that much easier. “You are on.”

  He encircled her waist with a vise grip and swung her around, not just repositioned, but a full three-sixty spin. Easily she followed his move. “You dance well,” he murmured.

  She leaned into him. “I can hold my own. We do more than shuffle and square dance where I come from.”

  “First one,” Brett said, pulling Cory closer to him. “The woman wearing the silver dress. Hair up on her head with a flower thing.”

  She snorted. “Good guess. She’s like the second in command at the rumor mill.”

  Laughing, he eased his hands back on her waist, and glanced across the dance floor. “The redhead. The one wearing a black dress.”

  Cory could feel her lips forming an ‘O’ as she gaped up at him. She exhaled, “How did you do it? That was only two guesses.”

  “It was easy. I want you enough to pay attention. Now, the important question: do you trust me?”

  Without missing a beat, she nodded. “Yes.”

  Brett lips spread into that familiar amused grin she adored. “Then hold on, baby.”

  No time to think, protest, or reconsider, instead she softly yelped. She didn’t move when he wedged his thigh between her slightly opened legs. His hand encircled her waist, rubbing her against his body in a step she recognized, but had never danced close enough have a man drag his erection between her thighs. Dressed in an impeccable dark suit, open-throated dress shirt, Brett’s a clean fragrance exorcised a low moan from her as he stepped closer and tipped her backward. Dipping her, he held her secure with his hands on her body, yet the unexpected move made her heart thump wildly. Or it could have been his hard-on lodged firmly against her sex, nudging her to the point of eye rolling ecstasy. The man’s cock was stiffer than stone. A rigid, pulsing stone that prodded her sensitive flesh to the point of throbbing pleasure.

  He had her suspended beneath him, and then he lifted her, slowly…carefully bringing her upright, their bodies still connected. “I should have bet to have you stay all night.”

  Their lips were so close. Smiling, he didn’t overtake the distance, just moved his arm tighter along her waist. “Do you always get what you’re after?” Cory whispered.

  “No. I don’t. I tend to be a loner and I’ve learned to fight for what I want.” His nostrils flared, and he stopped smiling then stepped back a pace.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned, and still holding on to his muscular arms.

  “I need to make some arrangements. I can take you back to your table or to the bar. I only need a few minutes.”

  She considered her options as if she had only. Going back to the table would entail a long, drawn-out spill-her-guts session, more than likely worse than the first one. Her body was on fire and her brain charred leaving her defenseless.

  “I’d rather wait at the bar.”

  He led her off the dance floor and over to one of the several bars in the dance club. “Down the hall are bathrooms.” He flagged down the bartender, then turned to her. “What do you want to drink?”

  “A glass of soda.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “As in club or mineral water?”

  “A coke.”

  He nodded. “Jerry, the lady would like a coke and I’ll have the usual.”

  She didn’t remark about the usual. Nowhere was she well known enough to order like that except at the diner on Main Street. Her ‘usual’ consisted of a cup of soup and a grilled Swiss cheese on whole wheat. The bartender returned with her soda and a glass of straight something, whisky or bourbon, for Brett. He took a pull from his drink, looking at her over the rim of his glass, and then set it down on the bar.

  He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hey, Brett. You staying until the end?” A blonde, dressed to the nines, stopped next to them at the bar.

  “Hello,” he said awkwardly, nodding into the curvy blonde’s face.

  The blonde moved closer, leaning over to him and pressed her cheek, all Hollywood style, against his. “You haven’t called in forever. I owe you drinks.” She stepped away, giving him a once-over that could melt an iceberg, before gliding away.

  Cory waited for the customary explanation, but Brett remained mute. She noticed a muscle twitching in his jaw, and his face was drawn. He no longer made eye contact. “So, you do have some friends,” Cory started.

  “We’re not really good friends.”

  “Then what are you?”

  He searched the ceiling as though he might find an answer. “Jesus, we hang out sometimes. At parties. Really, these Friday night affairs are pretty common.”

  Celebrity parties and hanging out. She knew from enough parties the type of hookups where girls latched on to hot guys and those same hot guys didn’t contact said pretty girls. It didn’t matter if the girl was a cover model or a party animal. One thing happened in those types of hookups. Sex. Crazy hot. Meaningless. The type that Brett made her hunger for. One night, and if she didn’t care about being pegged as frivolous, she might jump—if not dive—into the seductive pool of Brett Gold. Surrounded by her family and millions of eyes, she had to keep from falling for his mountainous charm. And, this close, it wasn’t easy.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Peter, peter, peter popper!” Rich yelled from one of the tables behind the velvet roped off area. “You just getting here?” He was seated between a brunette and a redhead, neither being his wife, with an open bottle of Jack, and a bag of blow was being passed back and forth between the girls and some other players at the table.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Brett asked. “This is getting way out of control.”

  Over the last couple of weeks, the players had been under unbearable pressure to win each game. The stress factor had risen way up and with only two more games, it was apparent each party became a celebration of triumph weighing greater. Two more games and the possibility of getting into the Super Bowl became a pressure cooker, working everyone so it seemed.

  “I’m here to relax. Same as you.” Rich grinned, wrapping his arm about each of the girls. It was obvious the man was here to party. “Have a drink.”

  Brett eyed the situation and knew better than to openly criticize any player on a team. All of a sudden, a team of one could become a reality. With a mangled shoulder, he needed a cohesive offensive backup around him when he was the target of another team. Not a thwarted player, who s
uddenly wasn’t there to block a tackle. That happened all too often for other players on the outs. Brett didn’t have the luxury of being the voice of moderation in a group of ballers looking to relieve some stress.

  “Can’t. I’ve got a friend waiting. Where’s Mike?” Brett asked, shaking his head at Rich’s offer of a snort of coke. He didn’t do drugs, not even the freaking ibuprofen he was supposed to down for inflammation. Aged single malt Scotch had always been his drug of choice. A bottle of Balvenie’s finest and he’d be set for the evening. But not tonight.

  Rich pointed across to a closed door. “There. He’s having a conversation.”

  “How private?”

  “Not very. You know the man likes an audience.”

  “What about Kenny?”

  “Shit. He was just here. Sit down. What’s the rush?”

  “Just need to talk to him.”

  Rich’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re in luck. Turn around.”

  Kenny slapped Brett across the shoulders. “What’s up?”

  “Need a favor.” He faced Kenny, one of the older players, a fullback on the team. The one most of the other players regarded as the team sage.

  Kenny motioned toward the back area. “Step into my office.” He walked toward a corner where an empty table was situated.

  “I need a favor. There’s a girl.”

  “Always is.” Kenny chuckled.

  Brett shook his head. “Not a personal interest. I want her occupied.”

  “Shit, this is a new angle.” Kenny’s eyes widened. “Mind if I ask why?

  “She’s crowding a girl I’m into. Not her friend and causing trouble. A riff.”

  “I think I understand. You want someone to keep her busy instead of honing in on your party.”

  “Exactly. Nothing crazy, though.” He waited while it seemed his teammate considered the matter.

  “Who is it?” Kenny finally asked, picking up his glass and sipping.

  Brett studied the dance floor, harder to see being farther away. “That one. Redhead. Black dress. Tall.”