But those avenues had soon run dry.
Word of mouth had only gone so far, and with the changing economy, no one was willing to spend their hard-earned money on needless fine art. If she didn’t figure out a way to stimulate the public’s senses enough to open their wallets, she would have to give up her small independent business and kiss her entrepreneur life goodbye.
With a flip of her hand, she gestured for the concerned bartender to pour another shot, fixed on the goal of drinking away her problems.
“This may look like water, darlin’, and go down just as smooth, but it ain’t so easy on the body once it hits your head.” He looked her over, as if measuring her determination, and after a few seconds, he popped the cork-lined glass top. “What do I care, huh? As long as you’re paying…”
“You shouldn’t care at all, Jack, especially if I’m footing the bill. And make that two.”
Chloe looked to her left upon feeling something brush against her arm. To her surprise, it was Mr. Gyration, flipping a twenty on the bar.
Her stomach fluttered and she lost all sense of herself. Being on the receiving end of that cocky smile really did a number on her heart. As her breath staggered out of her, all she could do was smile in return.
She glanced at the crisp Jackson resting next to her shot glass, appreciative of his generosity. At least he was trying to be a gentleman, which was completely opposite of the impression he had made on her from the dance floor. She could only hope he’d continue to be that way, for she had no intention of tolerating anything less.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” he said, leaning against the bar. “A girl like you shouldn’t be anywhere alone. Especially here.”
“Easy Don Juan,” Jack interrupted as he slammed another shot of Tequila on the slick lacquered wood of the bar. “She’s new.”
“I can see that.”
Chloe had to look away. His devilish smile was too much to handle. And even though a warning had slipped from the bartender’s lips, Mr. Gyration didn’t seem to care. He stared at her with such hunger, she half expected him to growl like an animal if some other man-whore got too close.
In trying to rid the weight of his close presence, she reached for the alcohol, dying to douse the flaming heat of his dark, amber eyes from her memory. But his hand stopped her.
The abruptness of his actions caused the drink to slosh and splash her fingers. She barely noticed. All she could feel were his masculine fingers, curling gently around her tiny wrist and the warmth of his palm, flattened across her forearm, spreading like wildfire throughout her body. The shock of his touch nearly stopped her heart. What stunned her more, was watching him lift her hand and taking her wet finger into his mouth, sucking the small droplets of Tequila from it.
Her stomach dropped to her pelvis and a sweltering inferno raged from within her core. The only thing that kept her from incinerating right there on that barstool was the tingling sensation dispersing between her thighs. Though his tongue only swirled around her knuckle, she could feel its torment on her whole body, a warmth spreading like fire between her legs.
She crossed them tightly, trying to get a grip on her emotions, trying to keep him from weaseling into her good sense. But the manner in which he withdrew her finger ever so slowly from his soft, full lips clouded her brain. His inviting brown eyes blurred everything around her.
No one existed, save him.
“Let’s dance first,” he suggested coolly. “Then we can shoot the good stuff together.”
Chloe didn’t have the opportunity to refuse. He had already pulled her from her seat and was leading her into the thick of the crowded dance floor.
Her feet faltered and her legs felt weak, almost as if they had lost all circulation. The grip he had on her hand was strong, domineering. She knew there was no pulling free. He was a very determined man and if she happened to slip from his grasp, he’d only pursue her.
She looked around, taking in all the eyes that were checking her out as she passed by. Most were jealous looks from women, whom she assumed were regular club-hoppers, disappointed that Mr. Gyration had not chosen them as his partner.
Chosen.
It seemed like such a stupid concept, given the countless options he had in this meat-market. She could only wonder why he had opted for her.
She was not a loose woman. Anyone could see that simply by her choice of attire. She was dressed in a modest denim skirt—no where near as short as the other girls in the place—and her blouse was silky, buttoned up to the top. Not a hint of cleavage to be seen. Yet, as he found an open spot on the floor and turned, his eyes drenched over her as if her clothes were not even there.
He jerked her into his arms, her body slamming into the solid wall of his chest, his smile consuming his chiseled face. “Hold on tight, sweet thing,” he said with a wink as he snatched her other hand, establishing a strong frame between them. “I’m about to sweep you right off your feet.”
He wasn’t lying.
She felt his forearm tighten on her lower back, and he swung her around in a quick spin, his hips never breaking contact with her body. With his eyes holding fast to hers, she was lost in his gaze, the commanding force of his arm holding her attention more than the flashing lights and the crazy club atmosphere around her.
Though she could feel the deep, grave tone of the loud bass vibrating against her, helping her to judge when to step into him and when to withdraw, she was oblivious to everything else. His lean, hard body felt so good pushing into hers, guiding her into the next steps of their dance.
She knew her way around the idea of a closed dance position, their bodies parallel, touching, each of their movements placating on the advancement and withdrawal of an equal and opposite step. He was so well-skilled in his timing and technique, that he could make anyone in his arms look like a professional.
He released his arm from around her back and threw her body to the side, holding her hand as she spun away from him. With their arms extended to the fullest, she looked back at him, and he smiled, showing his immense delight before he recoiled her into his arms.
They locked hands again and he stepped into her, his pelvis jutting forward. Together, they stepped across the floor, carving a wide circle within the tight group of dancers, opening their space. Everyone seemed to oblige, though they didn’t do so happily.
Scorns and sneers from envious women flashed in Chloe’s direction. As far as she was concerned, she was enveloped in the arms of a highly prized man and no one, but her, was having the chance to partake in such a pleasure.
At least not tonight.
Though she knew in her heart he was only having his fun, toying with her emotions, and trying to see how far he could get with her, she put her cynical thoughts aside and decided to indulge in this one delight.
Not very many times would a wickedly sexy man pick her out of a crowd and dance with her as though he had yearned for this chance all night, especially when there were more promising choices at his disposal. But the look on his face said he didn’t give a damn about his other options. He was with her and that was all he seemed to care about at the moment.
Through the rest of dance, his look never wavered. If anything, she saw a deeper longing in his tawny seductive eyes, an amber glow of fire burning into her. The heat of his enthralling stare spread across every inch of her body, smoldering in places where his touch lingered.
The palms of her hands.
The small of her back.
The sensitive area of her pelvis crushed against his.
He was a tango tornado on the dance floor as he led her body into a provocative prance. He released her left hand and dipped her over his forearm, dragging his free palm down her vulnerably exposed neck and between her breasts, his thumb and pinky brushing over the tight tips of her nipples through her blouse.
Chloe shot up straight, a quick gasp filling her lungs. She had never been groped in such a way before, and even though she knew she should haul off and
smack him, she couldn’t. She enjoyed it too much.
She could still feel the lingering sensations of his bold touch, the exact path his fingertips had blazed down her breastbone beneath her shirt. He wasn’t in the slightest regretful of his aggressive move—the coy smile, fanning across his lips, proved that.
Her heart skipped.
Her skin blushed as it felt like every drop of blood in her body had pushed its way through the narrow veins of her neck and flooded her face. She was shocked, to say the least, by his daring maneuver, but, of all things, she couldn’t find the resolve to punish him for his indecency. Her body craved for him to do it again. To feel his hands all over her. Not just a slight brush of his fingertips as before, but a heavy spread of masculine hands stroking across her hungry flesh.
He had ignored her look of disbelief and jerked her closer by her waistband, enveloping her with a formidable embrace around her back. She glanced down at the dark complected hand still gripping her denim skirt, the hard knuckles of his fingers pressing temptingly against the soft skin of her stomach. He tormented her. Easily. And he knew it.
Shit, it’s hot in here.
She doubted it had anything to do with the physicality of their fast-paced dance. For a moment, she started to blame the amount of alcohol she had consumed, thinking her body had finally absorbed it and was now feeling the unfavorable aftereffect. Once she felt his fingers move slightly across her skin, she quickly reneged on that theory.
The heat flushing her body was more likely due to the practiced man who held her in his arms and stared at her with an insatiable lust. It was, by no means, unfavorable. He was gorgeous, she admitted, and the only thing she could think of was how beautiful he must be when stripped of his clothing.
She imagined he was like a Greek statue—a modern day Adonis—his body chiseled, hard, and stunningly streamlined. Every part of him was straight out of an Acropolis Museum exhibit, from the beauty of his unforgettable handsome face to the perfection of his male physique. He actually made her want to try her hand at sculpting clay instead of painting.
She had never sculpted before, but it was easy to envision her hands molding over his chest and arms, kneading and shaping every bulge of muscle on his torso. She even dared to think of her hands forming the tight orbs of his cute little ass, how she’d enjoy spending a lot of time casting his entire body with precision, down to the finest detail of his supple lips and the slight shadow of facial hair around them.
Chloe found herself staring at his well-groomed goatee. His thin, dark mustache accentuated his full luscious lips, while the vertical strip of hair from his lower lip drew her toward his strong chin and jaw.
She could tell he must have spent a lot of time trimming his beard in that fashion and she assumed he did so because it was a part of him he wanted women to notice.
She noticed all right.
His mouth was so alluring, so inviting, so…coming closer!
Automatically, her face drew back. She stiffened and looked him in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, a tinge of a smile creeping into the corner of his mouth. “Not into public displays of affection?”
She came here with the intent of forgetting her troubles. And letting Mr. Gyration kiss her would no doubt erase all memory of that. And then some.
Hell, he was making her forget things now.
She knew she shouldn’t get caught up in this ‘player,’ because, frankly, that was all he was. She’d be nothing to him but another oat sowed, a tally on his board, a number on his scorecard…and come morning, he’d never think twice about her.
So, why did those piled-high reasons not come close to the height of her curiosity? She couldn’t say for sure. All she really knew was she wanted him more than anything. More than another shot of Patrón, more than trying to figure out a way to save her business. She had only one thing on her mind and that was him all over her.
As if he read her mind, he moved into her, backing her up until she hit the wall behind her, his body pressed soundly against hers.
“I’m with you on the privacy thing,” he said coyly. “Because once I kiss you, I’m not going to stop, and no one here needs to see me tear off your clothes.”
Chapter Two
Did he really just say that?
A red flag flew up and Chloe swallowed hard, replaying his words. She didn’t have time to protest for he leaned his head into hers, letting his nose nudge her cheek as he took in a long breath.
“Wait here,” he mumbled. “We forgot something.”
As he pushed himself from her body and left her standing in the dark corner of the club, she couldn’t agree more. They had both forgotten something all right—their self-control.
When it came to Mr. Gyration, she didn’t know enough about him to assume anything about his reserve. Judging by the way he was with the other women in the place, she doubted he knew what that particular word meant.
She searched the dance floor, looking for a reason to turn him down. Knowing how badly she wanted to take him up on his offer, it would have to be a big reason. Perhaps an unhappy girlfriend left dancing alone, or that one blonde floosy who’d have good cause to raise a stink about her being with him. But no one seemed to fit that criteria.
It was as if no one even knew she was there, waiting. Waiting for Mr. Gyration to return to her and take her somewhere private to….
…tear off her clothes.
Holy shit, what am I doing?
She had to leave. There was no way around it. She knew she must walk toward that distant club door and leave him in the dust. If she left now, she’d walk away with her heart unscathed and her dignity intact.
Yes. Leaving him behind was her best option.
She closed her eyes, trying to convince her eager body that it didn’t need the dark, sexy stranger’s kiss or his talented hands ravishing her to the point of utter pleasure. The thought of him doing those very things only made it harder for her to skirt out. Unless the bald, muscle-bound bouncer came over and dragged her out of the club, she wasn’t going to budge.
“Ready to steal away to my humble abode?”
Chloe’s eyes flashed open and Mr. Gyration was but a few inches from her, holding two full shot glasses—the ones they had left at the bar. He stepped forward, his lower half pressing against her. “You’ll have to snag the keys out of my right pocket,” he suggested, glancing downward, “if you want that privacy. I’d do it myself, but my hands are full.”
On purpose, she’d bet.
By the way he wagged his brows and smiled at her, yeah, she knew it was on purpose.
Come on, Chloe…where’s your sense of adventure? Reach into his tight leather pants and pull out his keys.
With another wave of heat flushing her face, she took a deep breath, hesitating as her fingertips just breached the open seam of his pocket. She didn’t want to look at his face for she knew he was probably sporting that half-cocked grin that made her hot, and she was already sweltering with heat.
“What are you going to do, sweet thing?” he teased. “Ball’s in your court…”
Little did he know his trifling dare was all she needed to shove her hand in his pocket and grip him in her fist.
His mouth flew open and his body shuddered from the bold contact. “…or in your hand,” he amended.
She countered him with an equally half-cocked smile, reveling in the feel of his strong erection filling her grasp. Indeed, he was as hard as stone.
“Keys,” he reminded with a shiver.
Chloe reluctantly released him and fished for his keys. The pocket of his pants was deep but close-fitting, making it difficult for her not to graze him repeatedly in the process.
“You’re killing me, darlin’.”
On purpose, she elected inwardly.
Finally, she drew the ring of keys from his pants and held them up like a prize. She watched his shoulders relax as if he were relieved the torment on his body has ceased for the moment. B
ut she didn’t plan to keep her hands off him for long. His body was too irresistible not to have thoughts of touching it, torturing him with sinful foreplay.
Yeah, running from Mr. Gyration was no longer an option; leaving him breathless, was.
He stepped back slightly and gestured with his eyes to a narrow corridor behind her to the right. “After you.”
With the keys to paradise in her hand, she slipped past him and started down the hallway, her knees shaking as she walked. They passed a couple, who obviously had no qualms about a public display of affection, passionately kissing and groping each other against the wall.
Her mind ran wild. Visions of a secret room, where only V.I.P members could access came to mind. A place where everyone was freely having open sex—naked bodies draped everywhere and in all sorts of contorted positions. A swingers club.
She heard of places like that, but it wasn’t what she had in mind. She turned around, her face straight and definite in her decision.
He ignored her and sauntered up close, backing her into the very door in question, his drink-filled hands braced on either side of her. She should have felt trapped, scared. But it was the way he looked at her. The way his gaze fell over her face as though he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life, that said “I want you all to myself.”
She closed her eyes as he tucked his face beneath her jaw, his lips barely brushing against her neck. He whispered something as she could feel his warm breath bathing her skin, but she had no idea what he said. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears, the throbbing of her aching body giving her no reprieve.
His mouth was exquisite, suckling her sensitive neck with a practiced kiss, weakening her with every tender flick of his tongue.
What she wouldn’t give to feel that mouth on her body, in places that were tingling for his attention. She needed him. Needed his love if only for one night. And what would it hurt to succumb to this extraordinary moment, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be in the arms of a much desired man?
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 122