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“You don’t have to do that—”
“I insist. First hour in the champagne room’s on me too. For the whole party. Just make sure they tip the girls.”
“All right.”
Maybe we arrived early and the night hasn’t really started yet. The club’s half full. Men at different tables. All laser focused on the stage in the middle of the room. The smaller side stages appear empty for now.
Suddenly the lights dim and the music zooms up to a punishing throb. At least eight girls of varying shades of blond and tan slide onto the stage.
“Not a whole lot of variety in their look, huh?”
He quirks an eyebrow at me and tugs on one of my braids.
“Yeah, yeah.” I swat his hand away. “You know what I meant.”
“The night’s still young.”
We approach our tables and Rooster relays the information about the free drinks and bump-n-grinds to everyone. A round of tequila is ordered and a few minutes later a shot glass is handed to me.
“I can’t remember the last time I drank tequila. I don’t think it ended well.”
Rooster clinks his glass against mine. “I’m having this and one beer, so drink whatever you want.” He cocks his head and seems to reconsider. “Just not so much you’re gonna fall off the bike.”
“Very funny.”
“Holler and swaller!” Trent shouts his favorite toast.
The liquid burns all the way down and I squeeze my eyes shut to tolerate the sting. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing for my throat. When I open my eyes, Rooster’s holding a wedge of lime in front of my face. I take my sweet time sucking the fruit from his fingers. The spark in his eyes shifts from playful to hungry.
The tart lime does little to chase away the burn of the tequila. Rooster plucks the wedge from my lips and leans in to kiss me. The earthy, mild sweetness of the tequila lingers on his breath. He doesn’t seem to care that we’re in the middle of a loud, busy strip club or that we’re surrounded by people. Not my man. Ignoring everything around us, he pulls me closer. I part my lips and gently brush my tongue against his. I feel his rumbling growl of approval where my hand’s pressed against his chest. My head spins. From the tequila or Logan’s kisses? My money’s on the second one.
“Get a room!” That sounds like Jigsaw.
We ignore him and keep right on kissing.
A rush of bodies whoosh by, knocking into us hard enough to break our kiss. I blink up at Rooster. He smiles at me. Not ten feet away, there are eight gorgeous, half naked dancers shaking it for all they’re worth and my man can’t take his eyes off me.
Pants intrudes on our moment by wrapping his arms around Rooster’s neck and tugging him backwards. “You have to come get a lap dance. It’s on the house.”
“Thanks, I’m good.”
Pants smirks at me. “You don’t mind, right, Shelby? You’ll let your man party, right?” He jerks his head toward our table. “Wrath, Trin, and Dex are over there. You can hang with them—”
“I’m fine.” Rooster clamps his hand around Pants’ wrist hard enough to make his face pale and release his hold on Rooster.
“Later.” Pants jogs toward a different darkened corridor than the one we entered the building from. A guard at the entrance to the hallway waves him through.
“You can go,” I offer, wanting to be an ‘understanding’ girlfriend who doesn’t spoil her boyfriend’s fun, but the words feel sour in my mouth.
Rooster takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. “I don’t want to.”
I open my mouth again—probably to stick my boot in it—but Rooster presses one finger against my lips.
At our table, Dawson and his bodyguard are still hanging out with Dex, Wrath, and Trinity.
“You didn’t go with everyone else, Dawson?” I ask.
He frowns at the question. “Last thing I need is pictures of me getting a lap dance all over the damn place.” He holds up his hand to Rooster. “No offense. I know this is your club’s place—”
“None taken. I don’t blame you,” Rooster says.
Dawson gestures toward the stage. “I have a perfectly good view of all the action right here.”
Actually, thanks to the mirrors, I have a decent view too, even though I’m sitting with my back to the stage.
“I can’t believe I finally get out of Crystal Ball duty and now I’m fifteen hundred miles from New York in another strip club.” Wrath shoots a glare Rooster’s way.
“Hey!” Dex leans over the table and punches Wrath’s arm. “Stop talking shit about CB.”
“All the pretty naked ladies make you grumpy, Wrath?” I ask sweetly. “Or grumpier, I mean?”
Trinity covers her mouth and laughs.
“Careful, Shelby.” He wags a finger at me. “We’re not quite there yet.”
“Uh, Shelby?” a soft feminine voice says next to my ear. A tall, busty brunette with a hesitant smile and breasts about to spill out of her corset sets a tall glass of a pinkish-orange drink on the table in front of me. “Paloma on the house, Miss Shelby. We heard they’re your favorite.” She points toward the bar and the girl behind it waves at me.
