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Stepping onto the back porch, she did a slow turn for Mirabella and Foster as they waited in his Tahoe. It was a lot tighter and shorter than anything that she had ever worn before. She was actually nervous about wearing it. Bella squealed in delight while Foster gave appreciative catcalls. She was smiling in a way she hadn’t in days—hell, in months. She needed this more than she’d realized. Carefully, she made her way down the steps and folded herself inside Foster’s SUV and off they went.
The club wasn’t packed yet, but there was a decent enough crowd. Sloane glanced around, taking everything in. The bar itself took up a large portion of the room. Placed in the middle of the large space, it was definitely the focal point of the room. Tables spread out all around the room with multiple booths hugging the dark walls. A loud whistle caught her attention. She didn’t recognize the trio of men there, but apparently Foster did. He waved to them as he headed in their direction. Bella and Sloane let him lead the way.
“Guys, this is my fiancée, Mirabella, and this is her cousin, Sloane.”
The girls shook hands with the guys as Foster finished introducing them, giving their real names before informing they preferred nicknames. Paxton, or “Tank,” was just that—a huge man whose hand swallowed Sloane’s with room to spare. The shaved head only added to the magnitude of him. He wore a loud orange button-down shirt that couldn’t hide all of his tattoos, with black jeans and motorcycle boots. His large brown eyes swept the room, constantly alert. As if constantly looking for some presumed threat. She knew she wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that stare.
Morty “Mother” must have been half of Tank’s size, with what she could only describe as hipster black-framed glasses covering his gray eyes. His t-shirt matched his eyes almost perfectly. She almost laughed out loud after spying his white sneakers poking out beneath his blue jeans. He looked like the kind of guy who was more comfortable hanging out in local coffee houses for hours on end in front of a laptop or with a book in his hand.
When Sloane got to Kasper, more affectionately known as “Gutter Mouth,” the name alone made her laugh. Blue eyes sparkled right back at her, and a cocky smirk crossed his face. His blond hair ended just above his chin; it looked so soft she almost asked to touch it. A crimson shirt pulled taut across his shoulders showcased a lean, muscled body underneath. Unlike Mother, his wasn’t tucked into his dark-wash jeans. He was hot, to say the least.
“Sloane, I’ve gotta say it. You look fuckin’ hot in that dress. Dayum.”
He took her hand and kissed the top of it. With that simple move, he had the capacity to both put her on edge and at ease, all at the same time. She felt heat blossom in her cheeks. Foster and Bella laughed at something Tank said as they pulled up chairs next to where she stood.
“Come on, Darlin’, sit down next to me. Unless you’d rather sit in my lap?” Kasper waggled his eyebrows.
“Gutter Mouth, behave,” Foster pretended to chastise him. Everyone laughed. “Watch that one, Sloane. He’s trouble.”
“Foster, you wound me, man.” Kasper winked across the table.
Sloane sat there listening to the men tell stories of old times before Foster met Bella. Eventually she began to feel restless. The strawberry margaritas were fabulous. Every sweet, sugary sip pulled a little more of the tension she was feeling from her. They hadn’t been there long and she was already on her third one.
Evanescence boomed through the speaker, and the pulsing beat pulled on her. She was on her feet before she realized it, heading for the dance floor. Her hips swayed to the music that was breathing life back into her.
Sloane stayed near the edge of the dance floor; she didn’t want to have to fight her way through the crowd and this way Foster and Bella could see her at all times, per their agreement. She was enjoying the music, dancing with a muscle-bound, brown-haired man to her left and a tattoo-covered man with his head shaved clean to her right. Both men took her in, undressing her with their eyes, but neither of them touched her anywhere inappropriately. The way she was beginning to feel, she may have welcomed it.
Halfway through the song, warm hands encased her hips, moving in sync with her. She didn’t move them, allowing her new dance partner to press his body flush with hers. The rich musky scent of his cologne was nice—not overpowering like the kind a lot of men used. Kasper spun her around and wrapped his arms around her. His body pressed to hers tightly. The other two men forgotten, she smiled up at him. Feeling the eyes of everyone at their table, she risked a look over while never losing the rhythm they had created.
The only face she was able to make out was Max’s. Like a statue, he stood absolutely still, his eyes glued to the dance floor. No, not just the dance floor, but on her and Kasper specifically. She noticed a leggy redhead had her arm entwined with his.
She was pretty and it bugged the shit out of Sloane. Why couldn’t she have been wrong? Would it have hurt to have the girl look less like a model and more like say, a troll? Then again, this was Max. He was gorgeous. He could have any woman in the room.
Secretly, Sloane wished he wanted her. He knew Brody. She had to keep that in mind. God only knows what Brody told him about her. No doubt what a lousy sexual partner she was. Why would Max want to waste his time with someone like her?
Forget it, she berated herself. She was currently in the arms of a hot guy. A hot guy who definitelydidwant her, even if it was only for tonight. She was fine with that. More than fine. That’s what she wanted—some mindless fun, and she was going to enjoy every second of it. Sloane turned her attention back to Kasper, rolling her body down his.
Two more dance songs played before the DJ slowed it down. She was ready to sit down, and luckily it seemed Kasper had read her mind. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She couldn’t wait to get back to her frozen margarita. Kasper took her hand loosely, leading her back to the table. It was a sweet, yet possessive gesture.
“Max! Good to see you again, man. Who’s your friend?” Kasper slapped Max’s hand in lieu of a normal handshake.
“Charlie, this is Kasper and Sloane.”
“Hi guys. You two make a really cute couple.” Charlie smiled. Kasper pulled Sloane off the chair she was sitting in and into his lap, ripping an unexpected squeal from her.
“We do, don’t we, Darlin’?” He winked at her. Sloane watched Charlie rub her hand down Max’s chest.
“Sure do, Cowboy,” Sloane answered as she wrapped her arms around Kasper’s neck.
***
Max
What. The. Fuck. Did he miss while picking up Charlie and why did he care so much? He knew why—because Sloane looked like a fucking goddess on the dance floor. That sad excuse for a dress clinging to every single curve on her mouthwatering body was like a second skin. Every unattached male in there had their eyes glued to her tits or her ass, neither of which were properly covered.
He’d wanted to drag her off the dance floor the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Those two strange men had been stealing touches wherever they could. They were nothing, however, compared to the way Gutter Mouth had been touching her. Now she was sitting there in his lap laughing like he was the funniest man alive. Why the hell was she calling him “Cowboy”? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t like him calling her “Darlin’” either.
Charlie cleared her throat beside him. No, he hadn’t forgotten her “cute couple” comment either. They didnotlook cute together. She was too…and he was too…They just weren’t cute together. This evening was not going the way he had envisioned. Here he thought he would spend a few hours watching out for Sloane before taking Charlie back to her house, where he would fuck her senseless before returning home himself.
