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“So, when did you start smoking cigars?” I ask as I casually put my arm around the back of the couch and behind her back. I’m not touching her, but I can tell it makes her uncomfortable because she leans slightly forward.
“College.”
I smile. “What brand did you smoke that first time?”
She frowns. “Why do you care what brand I smoked?”
I shrug. “Maybe I want to take it up, and I want to know what brand I should start with.”
“Alec Bradley Prensado.”
“Who were you with when you smoked?”
“Jessie, Wes, Kirsty…”
I turn to the loudmouthed bridesmaid who has been eavesdropping on our conversation. “Who is the lucky guy that is marrying our Sloane here?”
“Wes Finnigan.”
I smile. “So, Wes was there the night you smoked your first cigar, but he wasn’t the one who convinced you to try your first cigar?”
Sloane’s cheeks turn a nice shade of pink, but I don’t think her cheeks are pink due to embarrassment. No, it seems like anger is the cause.
“Fine, Wes was the one who got me started smoking cigars. You happy now?”
“Not particularly.” I lean in so that I can whisper into her ear without her nosy bridesmaids hearing me. “I won’t be happy until I have you in my bed. And it’s going to happen, Sloane. Whether that’s tonight or a month from now. You need to have one last fling before you marry the wrong guy or preferably kick him to the curb and replace him with me.”
I stand up before she can get a slap or punch in. I’ve said a very similar line to too many women before. Sloane is the kind of women who will slap first and ask questions later. She’s tough, strong. And probably too uptight for her own good. But I’m not sure how in love with Wes she really is. I’ll have to wait and see if this is going to be too easy or one of the hardest steals of my life.
Paige is back with the drinks, and I help her pass them out before letting her know to put all the drinks on my tab. When I hand Sloane her whiskey, she is fuming so much that I’m afraid she is going to throw the drink in my face.
She doesn’t, but I can tell that it crosses her mind.
“So, who’s ready to see the hottest man on this island strip for you?” I ask.
I am answered by an array of hoots and hollers.
I grin and then pull out my phone to start up some music. I start dancing to the music in the center of the group of sofas and tables that all the women are sitting around. Immediately, the women start digging into their purses to start pulling out dollar bills, twenties, or anything to tuck it into the waistband of my swim trunks.
I know my end target is Sloane. But, first, I give everyone else my attention. Sloane needs to see how the rest of her friends feel about me. She needs to see how desperate they are to just touch me, how they scream when I remove my shirt and reveal my rock-hard abs and strong chest. She needs to see what she would be missing if she said no instead of yes.
I strip down until I’m in nothing but my compression shorts that I wear under my swim trunks. All of the women’s eyes in the room are filled with lust and desire. Including Paige, who has been coming and checking on everyone’s drinks way more often than she should be. But she does nothing to stop me from stripping in a bar. I think because it has increased the number of drinks the rest of the women in the bar are ordering as they try to sneakily take a picture of me.
I have been ignoring Sloane the entire time I have been stripping. She thinks I’m doing this to hook up with a bridesmaid of my choosing. That, after this show, I will have my pick. She thinks she’s safe. She is anything but safe.
“And, now, a special dance for the bride-to-be,” I say.
Everyone hoots and hollers their agreement, and as I turn my attention to Sloane, it takes her
a minute to realize that I’m talking about her. But, despite how she tries to hide it beneath a glare, I can see the lust and sin in her eyes. I can see the hint of temptation to do something that she knows she shouldn’t do, that she would never forgive herself for. Still, it’s there.
I grab Sloane’s hand and drag her to the center of the circle. I have her take a seat on the edge of the low table in the center and then continue to dance around her and up against her. I give her an up close and personal view of my body, letting her get used to my body being close to her. When the music changes, I step it up a notch. I dance closer to her and eventually push her until she is lying on her back on the table.
I climb on top of the table and pretend to hump her without touching her, and when I hear the screams of the women around us, I know that I’m giving a good show.
I can see Sloane’s anger growing right along with the lust. But I’m slightly disappointed in her. She’s making this too easy for me. I want her to be in love with Wes. I want her to imagine herself with only him. When she falls in love with me and realizes that I can never love her in return, I want to know that it will ruin her. I want her to feel the kind of pain and devastation that she will never be able to return from. If I don’t get that, then going after her now isn’t going to be enough for me. Because I live for the devastation that I cause.
So, I up the ante when the music stops. I go in for a kiss because, if she isn’t that in love with Wes anyway, she isn’t going to be the woman I steal, and I might as well leave with a kiss.
