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And the jaw line. Oh, man. The guy could’ve chopped down trees with it.
The suit that clung to his muscular frame was all clean lines, stark black, and accented by a tie.
Heat shuttled through me and I blinked. “Huh?” Super, super eloquent first word there, Hazel.
“Bad and boozy,” he said, nodding to the title on my shirt, then flicked his gaze to the women shrieking and dancing around with the strippers by the tables. “You’re not bad and boozy? Because if not, that’s false advertising.”
I opened and shut my mouth again. And that heat focused solely on my cheeks. “I’m neither bad nor boozy,” I squeaked. Was this guy a stripper? He had to be, dressed like that – the suit looked almost exactly the same. Granted, I wasn’t an expert in all things sartorial but –
Okay, definitely rambling in my head. And rambling means panicking.
“Neither bad nor boozy,” the hubba-hubba hunk replied and took my hand. He turned it over and ran his thumb over my wrist. “I like that. I like good girls.”
My jaw dropped again, and shivers tingled through me followed by a hot burn in my core. I wrenched my arm from his grip, immediately. “I just came for drinks,” I said. “That’s all.”
“So, you can get boozy?” he asked.
“What does it matter? I don’t even – look, shouldn’t you be out there, doing your thing?” Where had that damn bartender gone? This was the last place I needed to be: turning into a molten mess over some superhot stripper dude at the bar.
Minutes ago, I’d been on the verge of passing out, thanks to a shattered heart. It simply wasn’t conceivable that some guy could stroke my wrist like I was an oversized cat and smooth away my sorrow.
“You don’t like the show,” he said.
I snapped around again, stiffening. “What? No. It’s – look, it’s great. I just – I’m sure you’re very skilled, but I’m not into this type of thing.”
He brushed hair from my collar bone and set off another marathon of shivers. It was such a casual move, so natural, and at the same time… so damn possessive. “What is your type of thing?”
I gulped.
The song overhead changed to one more sultry and smooth with a deeper bass line. The thump matched the beat and flutter of my heart.
“I like taking photos,” I said, because it was the first thing that popped to my mind and the last thing he probably wanted to hear.
He ran his fingers across my collar bone, leaned in, and pressed his cheek to mine. “I like the way you move.”
I stumbled back a step – irony! “Okay, well, okay. That’s nice. I’m Hazel, by the way. Not that you needed to know that, or asked or anything. I’d better get back to my friends.”
The swarthy treat of a man lifted a scotch glass from the bar top and swirled the amber liquid within it. “Out there? Are you sure?”
“Ye-no,” I replied.
“Makes sense.”
“I mean, yeah, I’m sure.” God, I was never usually this… dumb? I’d lost all my words thanks to him, and it was a feeling to which I definitely wasn’t accustomed.
My ex had been sexy but nothing that’d induced brain mulch.
This guy, the Nameless Stripper, made the muscles in my stomach clench like an iron fist. He lifted the tumbler and tipped it toward me. “Enjoy your evening, Hazel.”
I licked my lips, turned, and hurried back to the table, where Carly held a fistful of one dollar bills.
“Who’s next?!” she yelled and waved them around. “Momma’s got a fist full of dolla biiiiiillls!”
I reached the table, then stalled and palmed my forehead. I’d forgotten the drinks! I spun back toward the bar, nervous mode activate, then stalled mid-step.
The bar stools were empty. The ‘I’ll fuck you with a look’ guy had disappeared, and so had my tray of empty drinks. “What the –?”
“Ma’am?” Two fingers tapped my shoulder, and I turned, yet again, this time to meet a waiter, holding a silver tray of mimosas. “Your drinks, ma’am. Compliments of the gentleman at the bar.”
Chapter 2
Bain
I leaned against the door jamb at the back of the hall and tapped my fingers on the elbow of my Armani suit coat.
The women out there danced and shrieked, clapped their hands and grab assed the strippers. It’d taken a bit of arm twisting to arrange the co-bachelor and bachelorette parties at my resort, and that was exactly the reason I’d come to check in on the proceedings.
I was one hands-on mother fucker when it came to my businesses and most especially my island resorts.
The reason I’d stayed in this hall, however, stood beside the bride, gripping a cocktail glass and grimacing every other second.
Adorable, refreshing, fucking pure to some extent and fragile. She’d been on the verge of tears at the bar and the animal inside me had roared.
