Page 18 of Big D!ck Energy

“Right, and the difference would be?”

“Brooding is what you do when you're angsty. Thinking is what intellectuals do.”

Matt snorted so hard he nearly choked on his beer. “Intellectuals? Brother, you got dropped on your head too many times last month. I'm pretty sure you've got permanent brain damage.”

“So remind me why we're here instead of literally anywhere else?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“Because Brooke wanted somewhere classy for her bachelorette party kickoff.” Matt's grin was the same one he wore right before he executed his signature move in the ring. “And because her best friend insists on torturing you.”

Ah yes. Davina.

Just hearing her name made my jaw clench. The woman had decided I was the Antichrist the moment we met at Matt and Brooke's engagement party. I'd made the mistake of existing, and she'd looked at me like I was the gum on the bottom of her designer shoe.

A blonde in a black dress, with less fabric than I wore in the ring, sidled up to the bar. She had that look, the one I'd seen a thousand times. Recognition flickered in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, touching my forearm with her fingertips. “You're The Dominator. I've seen all your matches.”

“That's flattering,” I said, gently extracting my arm and angling my body toward Matt. “But I'm just here with my buddy tonight.”

“I could join you both?” She leaned in, and her perfume tried to suffocate me.

“We're waiting for people.”

“I could wait with you.”

Matt was hiding his grin behind his beer like the terrible friend he was.

“I appreciate the offer, but…”

“Is that Dallas Dodger?” Another woman appeared, this one brunette, with the same hungry expression. “And Mataio Strickland? Can we get a picture?”

This was my life. Most days, I didn't mind. Tonight, I just wanted them gone.

I plastered on my media smile, the one I'd perfected for interviews and sponsorship deals. “Tell you what, ladies, we're about to have dinner, but if you catch us later…”

“We'll definitely catch you later,” the blonde purred, trailing a finger down my shoulder.

I waited until they'd sashayed away, giggling and glancing back, before I turned to Matt. “You couldn't have helped?”

“And miss that? Never.” He was laughing now. “The mighty Dallas Dodger, fending off women like he's swatting flies. Brooke's never going to believe this.”

“Don't you dare…”

“Oh, I'm definitely telling her.”

I was about to throw a napkin at him when I felt it, that prickle on the back of my neck that meant the energy in the room had shifted. I turned toward the entrance, and every coherent thought in my head promptly evacuated the premises.

Brooke appeared first, pretty in a pink dress that made her look like she was glowing. But it was the woman beside her who made me forget how to breathe.

Davina.

She wore a dress the color of deep wine, the fabric hugging curves that could cause traffic accidents. Her long blonde hair fell in waves past her shoulders, and her lips, fuck, her lips, were painted the exact same shade as her dress. She moved with confidence.

She was stunning.

She was also glaring at me like I'd personally insulted her entire bloodline.

“Boys!” Brooke bounced over, kissing Matt's cheek. “Sorry we're late. Someone...” she shot a look at Davina, “...insisted on changing three times.”