by Alice Ward
“There’s plenty of room,” Ace said smugly and patted his left knee. I was waiting for the brunette to sling a drink in his face, or at the very least tell him to fuck off, but no. She sat right down on his knee, smiled, and seemed happy enough to share his attention.
“To a fucking kickass season!” Ace shouted and held up one of the shot glasses. We each grabbed ours, repeated his chant, and downed the liquor. It was hot, my throat instantly swelling from the burn. My nostrils widened as I shuddered to push away the pain. Ace laughed. “I’ll turn you into a man yet, hot shot,” he boasted.
“Are you married?” the blonde asked, looking up at me through her mascaraed lashes. She was beside me now, her hands still roaming my chest and stomach.
“No, but I have a girlfriend,” I replied and took a step back.
She followed, moving so close her breasts pushed into my chest, her hands moving up to my shoulders. She lifted onto her toes. “No ring, then it’s not cheating,” she whispered in my ear.
I pried her off of me once again. “I’m not interested.”
I shot a look at Ace, who was now staring daggers through me. “You need to lighten up, hot shot,” he said, his lip curled in disgust. “These are your fans.”
“I just need to get home.” I set my glass down on the table and turned to leave. I almost bumped chests with a tall man with slicked back black hair. He wore an expensive designer suit, one that looked custom made, and smiled with a sincerity mixed with mischievousness that left me slightly intimidated.
“You mean you can’t stay and have a drink with the man who gave you this incredible opportunity?” He spoke with authority.
Shit, shit. Fucking shit.
Immediately, my palms began to sweat. I’d seen pictures of our owner, but never actually met him. “Rhett Hamilton,” he said, extending his hand to mine. His handshake was firm and as confident as his presence.
“Calvin Malone,” I said and felt immediately stupid. Of course he knew my damn name. “Glad to meet you, sir.”
“Sir? No, you call me Rhett, and I know who you are, boy,” he said with a chuckle.
The blonde who had been all over me earlier now seemed more interested in the owner of the team. I was relieved for that but felt panic as he insisted I stay and share a drink with him.
Whitney was going to be pissed.
“What are you drinking, Ace?” Rhett asked. “Patrón?”
“Oh, you know it,” Ace replied, seeming very comfortable around the man. “Shots all around,” he announced as he motioned the blonde waitress back to the table. She seemed irritated that Ace had found not only one woman to replace her, but two. “Right away,” she said with full female sarcasm.
“So, what do you think of the new team?” Rhett asked, directing his question to me. I was dumbfounded, a little star struck, and still nervous that I wasn’t on my way to Whitney.
“It looks like a great bunch of guys,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll take the league by storm.”
“I like your attitude,” Rhett said as he pulled a chair from the table behind him and pushed it towards the booth. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I did.
Our shots arrived, and we all cheered before pouring them down our throats. It was smoother that time, not nearly as difficult to swallow.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew Whitney was becoming angrier by the minute. “I really need to go,” I told Ace.
“Rhett showing up and asking you to stay is not something you blow off,” Ace said sternly. “Especially for some girl.”
“She just moved here, and she isn’t just some girl.” My tongue felt thick, and the words started to slur from my lips. I was lightheaded, my stomach was churning, and the heat in my throat from the last shot was burning its way through my gut.
“Rookies with relationships never work,” Ace snarled. “One of two things happen. They dump the chick and go on to be amazing players, or they keep the girl and end up pumping gas at Sunoco.”
“You’re full of shit,” I argued. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, then, you need to break her in right, so sit, have another drink with your teammates and the man who signs your paycheck,” Ace insisted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I was being so stupid. “She’s gonna have to get used to sharing you.”
I looked around the table, at the expectations staring back at me, and knew he was right. I was here because of Rhett Hamilton. The least I could do was give him a few minutes of my time. Whitney would just need to understand.
Rhett complimented me on my pre-season training. Apparently, he had been watching from the sidelines and through videos sent to him by the coaches. It felt good to hear him praise my efforts and even say he was lucky to have me on his team. Another shot was pushed in front of me, and then another.
It was getting late, but Ace kept insisting that Whitney was pissed already, so why not stay and make it worth it. The more shots I drank, the more sense Ace made.
I watched Ace’s hands, both of them traveling up the girls’ skirts. He pushed open the blonde’s legs, giving me a clear view of her shaved pussy before sliding his finger inside her. “Nice, huh?” he smirked.
Her hips rocked back and forth against his finger, her eyes closed. Her breathing became rapid, and she acted as if she would orgasm right there at the table while we all watched.
“You’ve always been a wild man, Ace.” Rhett laughed, watching the show. The brunette’s lips were suctioned to Ace’s neck as he continued finger fucking the blonde.
This guy acts like a rock star. It’s incredible.
Ace whispered something to the blonde, and she giggled. His finger slid out from between her legs, and she stood from his lap. Her eyes lingered on mine as she moved slowly toward me.
Fuck, no. Oh shit.
Before I could protest, she straddled me, grinding her sex into mine. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, she held onto my shoulders as she leaned back to give me a peek at the pink pussy Ace had just been teasing. Her flesh was smooth and pink, not a trace of hair anywhere. My cock hardened as her ass cheeks ground into my shaft. My eyes lifted from between her legs and focused on the large breasts that almost burst from her top.
Alcohol flowed through my veins, more prevalent than blood, and when she pulled my head down into the softness of her ample cleavage, I didn’t fight her as hard as I should have.
Shit. What the hell am I doing?
Unwinding her arms from around my neck, I lifted my face from her breasts, getting ready to pull her off me.
Slap!
The sharp sting on my cheek surprised the hell out of me. I looked at the blonde, thinking it had to have been delivered by her, but she was staring wide eyed at someone beside me.
As if in slow motion, my head turned, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Whitney was standing there, glaring down at me.
“Whitney,” I murmured, still in shock that she was truly there.
Her eyes were wild, her lips pursed tightly together, and her fists clenched by her sides making me think she was coming in for another swing. I pushed the blonde off my lap, stood and tried to reach for her.
She turned quickly, mumbled something that sounded like “fuck you,” and stormed toward the front door.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Alice Ward
A SPECIAL SNEAK PEEK
BURNED (LORDS OF THE CITY)
ALICE WARD
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Quinn Laurent’s whole life has been planned out for her and by her, and so far, things have worked out splendidly. Not even in her late twenties yet, Quinn is one of the most sought after consultants to Chicago’s top businesses. Her knack for reading people and her dogged determination to always get her way has resulted in her amassing hoards of respect, millions in the bank… and a fair share of notches in her belt.
Too involved in her career to think about seriously dating anyone, Quinn is blasé about the arrival in her life of ex-soldier Seth Arsen. Thinking she’ll be the center of control in their interactions, Quinn goes about dealing with him in the way she deals with any other man—until she realizes Seth isn’t like all the rest. Not only is he passionate and sitting on a mysterious pile of wealth, he’s just as type A as Quinn.
Lost in a whirlwind romance of power control and seduction, Quinn doesn’t notice the brick wall until it’s in her face. It turns out no one’s perfect, least of all Seth. He’s got a past. It’s top secret… It’s dark… And it’s potentially dangerous.
Chapter One
I tilted my head to the side and studied the long swaths of gold and red. The canvas, illuminated by soft lighting above and beneath it, stood a good six inches taller than me. Upon first inspection, the painting seemed full of violent, aggressive tones, but the more I studied it the more the anger in the piece softened. Now it felt like I was looking at a river of lava, strong and secretly aggressive, but also peaceful and deceptively gentle.
“What do you think?” a male voice asked.
I peeped at the newcomer out of the corner of my eye. Tall, blond, wearing a gray suit and holding a beer in one hand. He reminded me a little of the actor who played Thor. All in all, the guy was decent looking enough. If I was the kind of girl who used a rating system, I’d put him at somewhere around six point five or seven. The kind of guy whose attractiveness might increase if his personality proved to be at least semi-compelling. I’d never seen him around before.
That last one was the bonus. I liked them new, liked my future with them to be uncertain and unbound by any real associations.
“I like it,” I replied uncrossing my arms and turning to face him. “There’s something frenetic about it, but it’s not off putting, oddly enough. I would hang it up in my bedroom.”
I let the word bedroom dangle in the air between us. Blondie took a sip from his bottle. The liquid in it sloshed around. “You come to art openings a lot?”
“Sometimes. But always when it’s my best friend’s.”
His eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah? And are you an artist?”
“Maybe you could say that. I’m a business consultant.”
“Cool,” he grunted. “Like you help people decorate their offices?” He chuckled, pleased with himself.
My eyes narrowed. His joke wasn’t amusing. “No,” I snapped.
Scratch the hope for a pleasing personality. The dude quickly dropped from a six point five to a one.
A new group of people hovered near the open bar, the young hipster dudes already catching my eye. The man in front of me was cute enough, but our short convo had already betrayed his intelligence level. Or lack thereof.
I gave him my best smile, the general and all-purpose one I pulled out of my handbag to diffuse any situation. “It was nice talking to you. I see someone I need to go say hello to. Have a great night.”
His mouth opened in what might have been a protest, but I was already gone, making my way across the marble floor of the Chicago Artiste art gallery.
I cruised by the group at the bar, checking them out from the corner of my eye. They were all involved in a conversation, laughing and joking together, and didn’t appear to be looking to socialize with anyone else.
Slightly defeated, I clocked the rest of the gallery. Most of the people attending the event were at least in their fifties, women with long necklaces of glass beads and men wearing tweed even though it was August. It was not exactly a twenty-five-year-old single girl’s wet dream.
Thinking about giving up for the night, I located my two best friends and headed in their direction.
Heather and London stood at the end of the drink table, their heads close together in conversation. They’d both done their hair up for the night, the messy updos nearly matching, the only difference the color of their hair; Heather’s blonde hair and London’s brown tresses made for an attractive contrast.
“Quinn, who was that you were talking to?” Heather asked the second I got to her, her big blue eyes going wider. She stirred whatever was in her little plastic cup with a tiny black straw.
“Ugh. No one of interest. I told him I was a business consultant and he made some joke about decorating offices. At least I think it was joke. Hell, maybe he actually wanted to let me know he thinks that’s where I belong.” I grabbed London’s cocktail from her hand and took a swig before passing it back.
“Still,” Heather pressed. “He’s kind of hot.”
My nose wrinkled. “Try talking to him. Trust me, your opinion will change real quick.”
London laughed and asked Heather, “Aren’t you still married?”
“Hey, I can still look.”
“You have a good man. Give the rest of us a chance.”
I defended Heather. “Being with one man for five years sucks. Who wouldn’t be looking at the goods?”
“Hey!” Heather gasped. “I’m not looking to cheat. I love Dan.”
I winked at her, enjoying how easy she was to tease. “That doesn’t mean your vagina doesn’t have its own needs and desires.”
Heather folded her arms and looked away.
“So where is that guy now?” London asked. “Did he leave?”
Heather jutted her chin upward. “Quinn just said that guy was a jerk.”
My gaze floated around the gallery again. The place was filling up, the opening our friend Rory shared with two other artists proving to be a hit. On the other side of the expansive space Rory beamed in the middle of a circle of people, her cocoa skin glowing and her teeth flashing white, as she laughed like it was the best night of her life. Chicago’s lights sparkled behind her, the perfect backdrop to the scene.
Warmth that had nothing to do with the drink I’d stolen from London’s cup filled me. “She looks happy,” I mused out loud.
“Yeah,” London agreed. “This is a great night.”
“She deserves it.”
Someone passed between me and Rory, obscuring my vision. I started to turn away, but then did another take.
H…E…L…L…O.
The stranger was tall, but not more than a head above me—just the way I like it—and possessed broad shoulders and thick brown hair. With a finely lined profile, he looked like he belonged up on the wall with the rest of the art. Blondie from before seemed like less than nothing in comparison to this new man.
As if feeling my gaze on him, the guy turned and looked right at me. His deep blue eyes melded with mine, sealing our gazes together. I couldn’t look away.
I smiled coyly at him, just enough to show my interest, and then turned back toward my friends, not waiting to see what his reaction would be.
If I knew anything about men, he would come over and say hello to me in about thirty seconds. That or he would wait till I was alone, not surrounded by other women, and make his move then.
“What are you grinning about?” Heather asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
I held my breath and waited to see if the guy would do as predicted. A few seconds ticked by. Then another few. Heather started telli
ng London about her sister’s baby shower the next weekend. As inconspicuously as possible, I peeked over my shoulder.
He was gone.
“Damn it.”
“What?” Heather questioned.
“There was a hot guy over there,” I said in a low voice. “And now he’s gone.”
Maybe I hadn’t given the look long enough. I’d turned away too soon. That had to be it.
“Hey!”
I nearly jumped out of my high heels. Rory looped an arm around my waist, her long, tight braids sweeping across my shoulder.
“Hey,” I gasped.
My three friends each gave me their own versions of puzzled looks.
“You okay?” Rory asked. “You sound like you suddenly developed asthma.”
“Yes. Totally. I was just… You surprised me. This turn out is awesome, by the way. And that new piece is even more amazing.”
London and Heather added their agreements.
“Thanks,” Rory smiled. “Are you guys coming to the after party? It’s at Jones Street Pub, right around the corner.”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I snuck another glance around the room. “Hey, did you see that guy who was just here? The one with brown hair.”
“Quinn’s soul mate,” Heather joked.
I playfully jabbed her with my elbow. “Yeah, totally.”
Rory’s eyes drifted to the side as she gave it some thought. “What was he wearing?”
“A t-shirt and jeans.”
“To an art opening?” Heather asked. “Who would do that?”
Rory tapped her jaw. “Are you talking about Seth what’s-his-name?”
“Maybe. I just got a glimpse of him, that’s all.”
Seth. The name fit him perfectly.
Rory shook her head frantically back and forth. “Nu-uh. Quinn, you do not want to go there.”
“Why not? He’s cute.”