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When Nate opened Dirty Dog, it was popular right out of the gate, gaining even more notoriety for being the male version of Coyote Ugly. The men danced for the sex-obsessed patrons to a tune so filthy the only difference from our days of stripping was that we didn't take anything off anymore. Well, not always.
Because of those not always nights--which really, we have some who touch a little too much every night--it was clear to me that a relationship with anyone other than a woman like Ember would never work, and I was sick of wasting the energy to find it.
I turn and walk back to my desk, the mountain of paperwork I had been putting off for a week looking a little thicker than it did two nights ago when I was here. Which only served to amp the migraine that had been building in my head for the past three nights. What I need is to release some fucking stress. Find someone who knows how to play without getting attached.
Maybe tonight ... the thought filters through my mind, and I glance out the window looking into the dull light of the bar below. "Who knows," I mumble to myself, not dismissing the idea of finding a good old-fashioned one-night stand.
I stretch, looking over at the clock to see two hours have passed since I started doing payroll. My back tenses as I stand to work the kinks out of my body, reminding me how long it's been since I went to the gym. With a look at the still thick-as-fuck pile of work, I huff a breath.
"Fuck it." Taking off my suit jacket, I toss it on the back of my desk chair and start walking. I'm wound up tighter than hell, and I'm not going to get shit done if I don't go work out some of that pent-up energy. No better place to gain back some of that lost gym time and work out that energy than by working the bar at Dirty Dog.
"Well, well! Look at how lucky the bar is tonight," Nate booms when I jump over the bar top and land next to him. His arm drops over my shoulders, and he turns us both to face the excited crowd around us. "You are the luckiest motherfuckers in this whole damn place because not only do you get this sex god ..." He pauses and waves his hand down his own body, moving me with him as he does some thrusting of his hips because his arm is still around my neck. "But you all get Shane, too. Now, I'm a happily married man who can recognize a hot thing when I see it, and you don't want to miss this stud muffin when he gets a hankering to be ... fucking ... DIRTY!" He bellows out the last word, and screams erupt around us. Nate grabs the opposite side of the bar and pulls himself over on his belly toward Ember. Her laughter stops the second his mouth crashes against hers.
I smile at the two of them and shake my head, turning from them to get to work. That is when I notice her. No fucking idea how I missed her before now.
Nikki.
Blond goddess with a killer ass, legs begging to wrap me up, and the sweetest pair of tits I've ever seen.
The first time she blinked up at me with those dark blue denim eyes, I knew she was trouble for me. A temptation on every level. She screamed at me to take her while my real life warred. She tempted me when I was with Lacey, making me feel guilty to desire someone other than the woman I was with. But it was what I discovered when I saw past her stunning looks. She was so much more than the fake type of woman I had originally thought. The vapid users that I had always seemed to attract.
Nikki was hilarious, smart, and driven in her career. She's only happy when those around her are happy. I'm not even sure she has a single vindictive bone in her body.
And worst still, she was dating a sonofabitch.
Until the day that changes, I'm going to keep doing what I've done since the day she crashed into my life ... ignore the twinge inside me that demands I claim her.
THE MUSIC POUNDS AGAINST MY body, cascading a series of chills down my spine and across my skin. Almost like a physical touch. Of course, that probably has a lot to do with the dress pant covered ass shaking everything God gave him right in front of my face. Let me tell you, having so much sinful perfection in front of your face like that isn't the fun you would think it was. It's pure torture to sit here and act like I'm not affected by the show in front of me. Hell, I'm not even sure why I try to hide it anymore.
Didn't I just decide the other night to be all wild and free and enjoy my life as a single woman who dances with others ... naked ... in bed? There's no one to hold me back--I'm a free woman.
I laugh at myself, my eyes still not able to look away from the erotic show before me, and I almost spill my drink when I blindly reach for it because of his intoxication. Playing it off, I place the straw between my lips and drink while my chest heaves. The cold chill of the liquor racing down my throat does little to cool my overheated system.
My eyes roam down from his face and over the hard ridges of his naked chest now that he's unbuttoned his dress shirt all the way. The tails flapping as he dances. His hands move into view when he hooks his thumbs in his suspenders and pulls them from his taut muscles ... then he lets go. The loud snap when they hit his chest through the shirt, dancing above the music, occurs at the same time a zap of lust shoots through my body. My eyes continue to trail over his hard torso until I reach his hips. Then my eyes widen and I almost choke on the sip I had just swallowed.
Is he ... hard?
Oh, my. He totally is. Son of Bon Jovi with Meatloaf on top!
How long have I thought of what it would be like to be on this end of Shane's dancing? It burns me alive from a distance; so unbelievably hot, I knew it would be just as strong up close and personal. I just never imagined the heat would be so scorching that it literally takes my breath away.
I gulp, my eyes unable to look away from the man who's invaded my mind for way too long. Watching the solid bulge behind his zipper as it becomes more pronounced, I admire the way he rolls his hips in tune with the beat of the music in the most delicious of ways. There is no way he's missed where my attention is stuck either. He takes a step closer, his black dress shoes framing the spot in front of me where my drink had just been. When he's this close, there is no doubt he's not dancing for the crowd anymore. My pulse speeds up as I start to lift my gaze. He towers above me, his tattooed forearms peeking out fr
om his rolled-up sleeves when he raises his arms above his head, holding on to the large bar that runs parallel to the bar top, his face tilted down as he winks and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as the beat drops and the music gets that perfect sex rhythm.
That's when he starts moving. And I mean realllly moving. I've never seen him dance like this, but I know one thing for sure, I want to see him do this naked and between my thighs.
"Should be illegal, right?" Ember says in my ear, loud enough to be heard over the pulsing music around us but still just for me. She keeps her head close but leans back to look at my face.
I nod, incapable of doing much more, and glance back up.
"Starboy" by The Weeknd continues, a song that never really seemed as sexual as it does right now, and still, I just stare.
Good heavens, I might start drooling. My eyes widen, and I bring my hand up to pass over my chin ... just to make sure and all.
His shoe makes a loud boom when he slams his foot against the thick bar top, right in front of me, and I startle with a tiny jerk. I trail my gaze up his legs, pausing on that hard crotch again. Clutching my drink to my chest, I realize I'm feasting on the poor man again and continue my perusal upward. Then, I see the sinfully handsome face of Shane Kingston. One of his thick, dark brows goes up in a way that I just know he's daring me. For what, though, I'm not sure.
This man, this ridiculously sexy man, knows he affects me. Heck, he's probably always known.
I watch as one heavily tattooed arm reaches behind his back, and before I realize what he's doing, he's maneuvered his shirt off while keeping his suspenders in place. Then he's tossing it in my face. I jump with a gasp, my nose filling with a scent that's all Shane--sweaty man and expensive cologne. Ember laughs, and I know she's enjoying seeing me speechless because that's a rarity.
Am I going to let this man get the best of me?
No.
Hell, no.
I'm ready to be wild and freaking free!
Tossing the shirt in Ember's general direction, I say a silent prayer that she holds on to it because I'm stealing the damn thing. My drink goes next, my hand shooting toward her until she takes it from me. The whole time, Shane continues to dance on top of the bar with the rest of the bartenders at Dirty Dog. I couldn't tell you what came over me next; all I know is I was a new woman after finally seeing what my cheating, no good, son of a nutcracker ex was still doing to me long after our breakup.
