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The thing is, she's not just a pretty face. She's damn good at her job, making my life easier. My days run smoother because of her, even though she's doing her best to keep her distance. Our morning meetings are quick and straight to the point. She keeps our interactions minimal unless I task her with something executive.
It's frustrating as hell but also a turn-on. She's not playing by my rules, and it's got me hooked. I'm used to getting what I want, but she makes an effort to remind me that she isn't mine. Where does her willpower come from? At this point, I'm starting to wonder if she's even single because she actsunavailablein every sense of the word.
Just as I'm lost in these thoughts I hear my phone vibrate. I pick it up off the coffee table and see it's a text from my brother Caleb.
Caleb:"Why the hell aren't you here? We're celebrating Connor's bachelor party at the bar!"
I stare at the message, torn. It's not that I don't want to go. But I've got that flight to Nashville tomorrow for the charity event this weekend.
Me:"Caught up with work, man. Got that event this weekend, remember?"
Caleb:"Man, I ain't tryna hear that. Get down here and celebrate,"he texts back, not taking no for an answer.
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. Caleb's always been the live-for-now kind of guy. Growing up, he was the wild one, constantly getting into trouble or plotting his next scheme and giving our parents hell. But we've always been close and I'm the one he calls to get his ass out of trouble. I guess that's what you do as an older brother.
Me:"Alright, Fine. I can't stay long."
I grab my jacket, already thinking about how I'll have to limit myself to one drink, maybe two. Just enough to show myface, and celebrate with Connor and the guys, but not stay long enough to get hammered.
I make the drive over, a part of me regretting my decision to come because of the distance from my house.
I park outside the bar and step inside to see that the place is packed.
I spot Caleb, Connor, and the guys hanging at the bar.
"Weston! About time!" Caleb shouts over the noise. "Yeah, I was starting to think you weren't coming," Connor adds.
I walk over to them and exchange handshakes we've had for years now. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," I lie.
"Beer or whiskey?" Caleb asks, turning to me.
"Beer," I answer without hesitation.
He nods to the bartender, placing the order. While he's busy with that, I take a moment to scan the bar. My eyes drift across the crowd and that's when I see Quinn. My pulse kicks up a notch as I try to see who she's with. Then I see Marissa next to her on the dance floor. They're both laughing, dancing to the music. Quinn's wearing something that knocks the air right out of me. It's this red dress that hugs her in all the right spots, simple yet smoking hot.
I have to admit that seeing her here throws me off. We've got that trip tomorrow and here she is, completely lost in the moment, not looking like she's planning on leaving anytime soon. It makes me wonder – does she always handle the pressure this easily, just shaking it off with a night out? I'm used to seeing her so focused, all about the job. But tonight, she's a world away from that, carefree and unwinding.
As I watch her on the dance floor, Marissa exits, leaving her alone. Almost instantly, a guy sees his chance and moves in behind her. They start dancing together and I notice his greedy hands roaming her body.
That sight sets me off. All thoughts about our trip tomorrow, the responsibilities waiting, just evaporate. I decide it's time to make a move before Quinn even notices me. I walk up behind them and grip the guy's shoulder, giving him a look that says she's off-limits. He gets the message and backs off without any trouble.
Then, I'm in his spot, right behind her. The sensation of her body against mine causes everything else to blur out. Impulsively, I press my hard-on into her ass. Her gasp is immediate. "You like that, Sweetheart?" I ask.
I sense her startle slightly at the sound of my voice. "Weston?" She starts to turn, but I hold her hips firmly, keeping her right where she is. There's no resistance from her, just the opposite – she presses back into me, continuing to move to the beat.
I lean in closer, my lips just by her ear. "Answer the question," I insist, my voice low.
Her breath hitches, and I can feel her body responding to mine. "Yes," she says, voice barely above a whisper.
Her head falls back against my chest, and I immediately catch the scent of vodka, maybe tequila, on her breath. The realization that she's had too much to drink hits me, and my mood turns from carefree to concerned.
"We have to fly out tomorrow. What are you doing out so late?" I ask.
She chuckles. "I could ask you the same thing."
Realizing she needs some air, I take her hand and guide her outside the bar. I take her aside to a more private area away from the entrance and position myself in front of her, my arms bracing against the wall on either side. "How much have you had to drink?"
Her laughter doesn't mask the slurring of her words, "Um, not sure. Wouldn't tell you if I knew."
