Abstinence was not a strength of his.
He stood, straightening his suit, and running a hand through his hair. Julia was probably waiting, nervously gripping a martini glass and looking for his face. She was no doubt anxious, her mind tracking down where he could be and drawing conclusions.
He stepped out of the office and was hit with a wave of cheers from down below—a large crowd swelling and building, like an anthill out of control, climbing on chairs and tables to get a better look. He followed the curve of the crowd wondering what, or who, had their attention.
He should have known better.
dangerous ground
He avoided the crowds and moved higher, stepping into a VIP alcove three stories above the dance floor to privately watch the action below—namely, Julia and Montana, and the crowd surrounding them. The bouncers were keeping the crowd under control, the girls safe, but the surge of men made him nervous. Nervous and completely f**king turned on. Their cries, cheers, raw eagerness to get to the woman that he, in some ridiculous way, thought of as his had his c**k hard again almost instantly.
He unplugged the security cam to the space and stood at the edge, experiencing one heat-filled moment when Julia raised her head and their eyes connected. She smiled, a seductive gleam in her eyes that terrified him.
He had no idea who she was. This was a woman who had taken sweet, innocent Julia and dunked her into a sea of sex, allowing the liquid heat to swim through her blood, blaze through her eyes, and float from her skin like a strong perfume.
The woman on stage had no inhibitions, a smile illuminating her face, lust in her eyes as she leaned forward and pulled Montana’s head to hers, her hands stealing into her hair, their kiss lengthening as the two women drew closer.
He sat, his hand moving down to adjust himself, the pulsing of his thick c**k incessant, as if the f**k downstairs hadn’t satisfied it. Being around her was pure intoxication, even with a hundred feet of separation between them. His eyes glued to the pair, he watched the minx who was Julia.
She pushed gently on Montana’s chest, laying the girl back, her head lowering and trailing along her neck and down to the dip between her cle**age, her hands squeezing and pressing the br**sts around her own face. The crowd roared, and Julia sat up, her dress fully falling down, her own bare br**sts now on display for the crowd. A vibrating energy swept through the club in a physical wave.
It was too much, the crowd reaching a fever status, and he stood, reaching for his cell. Janine answered before it even completed a full ring. “Can I stop it?”
“Please,” he growled. “Get them out of there.”
He met them downstairs, in the girls’ dressing room, naked bodies everywhere, Julia and Montana all over one another. Montana’s hand trailed up Julia’s leg, tugging her dress higher. He glowered at Montana, causing the girl to giggle.
“How much did they have to drink?” he asked Janine, his eyes locking with Julia. She bit her bottom lip, grinning at him, a grin that instantly turned every sensor in his body to full fledged arousal. He held her stare, willing his mind to come under control, barely listening when Janine responded.
“Five shots each—tequila.”
“Get me some water,” he ground out. “And have Leonard pull up the car.”
He watched her sleep, her beautiful head nodding to the side as soon as the car started its forward movement. He was grateful for her sleep, grateful that those fiery eyes were closed, and he no longer had to worry about their effect on him. Her passion electrified him, frying intelligent thought patterns and making him bend to her will. And, try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of her, on stage with Montana, out of his mind.
That was not the girl he knew—thought he knew. He didn’t really know anything about her at all. She was a complete mystery, a bundle of surprises tied together with one hell of a sexy bow. Seeing her tonight, the sexuality oozing from her, her playful eroticism on display, turning on every warm-blooded man in the club … it was wreaking havoc on his already limited self-control. She had shown, in those moments, her potential. And that thought drove him absolutely crazy.
He carried her inside, pushing the door shut with his foot, and walked into the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. Opening her suitcase, he pawed through sequins and glitter until he found a pair of worn pajama pants and a shirt. He smiled at her choice of packing, conservative over sexual. Walking back into the room, he slid the pants over her limp legs, moving briskly, trying to keep his mind in line and out of the gutter. She sat up slightly when he pulled her dress over her head, cooperating when he worked her arms into the shirt and over her head.
He said her name three times before she opened her eyes, blinking groggily at him with a slight frown on her face.
“What?” she asked, annoyed.
“I’d like you to drink some water. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She swallowed, her eyes on his, blinking again as she started to wake up. Then she nodded. “Yes.”
He waited in the room, pouring her a glass of water and getting two aspirin. He set them on the dresser, unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it from his pants.
She stumbled in, eyeing him as she grabbed the water, gulping it down. He moved to help her, pulling back the covers and guiding her into bed. She rolled onto her back, looking up at him through heavy eyes.
“God, you are hot,” she mumbled, a half smile on her lips. He grinned, pulling up the covers and reaching for the light switch. The lamp extinguished, she was in partial darkness, her beauty no less devastating in the soft, shadowy light. She freed a hand from the covers, reaching out and gripping his belt, sliding her fingers under the hem of his pants and tugging him toward her. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes surveying the beautiful lines of her face.
She watched him, their eyes connecting. “You are going to be so bad for me,” she whispered, her words slurring slightly. She lifted her hand, trailing it over the muscles in his chest, running it down the ridges of his stomach. “So bad,” she whispered. Her eyes closed with a heavy sigh. “Tomorrow,” she murmured. “Tomorrow, I’ll stay away.”
He leaned over, pressing his lips softly to her forehead, listening to her breath as it evened, her hand limp as it fell to the bed. Then he straightened, watching her sleep, his eyes dark.
the parting
One evening later.
Hot night around them, he stood at her front door—weeds and dirt underfoot, the structure before him barely habitable. She unlocked the house, taking her bags from his hand and tossing them inside. She leaned against the door, blocking him from any thought of entry.