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Laurella grinned. “Calum is usually cockblocked because he’s run his mouth and I decide to cast him out to spend the night on the couch. Isn’t that correct, my beautiful stronzo?”
Zane chuckled. “I guess we can expect him to be on his best behavior tonight.”
“I’ve warned him.”
Laurella and Calum shared a look, and Lori recognized the same adoration and love in their exchange that she and Zane had. The difference between those two was that they seemed to be fire and more fire, a simmering blaze that percolated right beneath the surface. Whereas she and Zane were far more mellow and chilled. It must work for them, though, if the light in Calum’s eyes was anything to go by. That he idolized Laurella was written all over his face.
“What does stronzo mean?”
“Asshole.” Laurella winked at Lori. “Call it a term of endearment.”
“She loves me.” Calum flashed a grin. “Besides, I’ve been called worse.”
Lori’s nerves began to settle, and she embraced the evening, joining in the banter and watching with interest as Zane and Calum batted back and forth. Calum insisted on picking up the check and then suggested they move on to a club that he’d heard good things about a few blocks from the restaurant.
As they strolled along the sidewalk, it occurred to her that the last time she’d danced—the sixty seconds at The Vortex didn’t count—was at her prom. God, had it been that long ago? After her heart transplant and warnings from the doctors back in India, she’d been cautious about doing anything too strenuous, and then as the years passed, she’d got so caught up in growing her company that going clubbing wasn’t in the cards. And even if it had been, who would she have gone with? She’d lost touch with all her girlfriends from high school when she’d moved out to India, and dates had been few and far between. None of the men she’d dated—if one or two dinners and the occasional cinema visit counted as dates—had lived up to her memory of Zane.
“I haven’t gone dancing at a nightclub in ages,” she announced as they handed their coats over to the cloakroom attendant. “Might be a bit rusty.”
Zane caught her hips, pulling her close to him. “I’ll lead, baby.”
“No dry-humping in the hallway.” Calum muscled between them, slinging one arm around Lori’s shoulder and the other around Laurella’s. “At least wait until you’re on the dance floor.”
For all Zane’s subtle warnings about Calum’s blunt demeanor, she found herself drawn to his sarcastic humor and warm personality. He and Laurella made a stunning couple, and the willowy Italian beauty drew several admiring glances—and a few jealous ones—as they moved farther inside the club.
Zane organized drinks and, though the place was packed, Calum somehow conjured a table. No sooner had they sat than Zane had her up on her feet. He led her onto the dance floor filled with sweaty bodies swaying to the pulsating beat. Multicolored strobe lights oscillated overhead, and the floor vibrated beneath her.
“Come here.”
Zane’s arms encircled her waist, and he dipped his head, kissing her until her lungs screamed for oxygen. She came up for air, only for him to dive in once more, mashing their lips together. Their tongues dueled, and she ran her hands over his back, hips shimmying. She made sure that with every move, she brushed against his erection, earning several groans of appreciation.
God, she couldn’t get close enough. Fisting his shirt, she tugged, freeing it from the waistband of his trousers and snaked her hands inside. Better. Skin to skin. Even then, it wasn’t as close as she’d like, but she’d have to make do until they were somewhere a little less public.
“Carry on feeling me up like that, Lori, and you’re going to find yourself locked in the bathroom with my cock buried inside you.”
Awash with reckless abandon, she faced him down with what she hoped was a seductive smile. “And what makes you think I’d fight you?”
He stared at her for several seconds, then muttered, “Jesus Christ,” and caught her by the hand. But before they could make a move toward the restrooms, Calum approached, nudging Zane out of the way.
“Lovely Lori, may I have this dance?”
Lori burst out laughing at the outraged expression on Zane’s face. Calum caught on to the reason for her laughter in less than a second, and his lips curved into a wicked grin.
“Oh dear. First a chicken, and now you’re getting cockblocked by your best friend. Too bad, dickhead. You’re just going to have to wait to get your rocks off.”
Without waiting for a response from Zane, Calum towed Lori to the far side of the dance floor where the crowd was thinner and they were farther away from the enormous speakers blasting out dance music. His grin remained in place when he bent to her ear. “He’ll get over it. Just think of all that pent-up sexual tension when you get home later tonight.”
Lori couldn’t help but laugh at Calum’s devil-may-care attitude. “Remember, he’s your boss. I bet he’ll have payback ideas stacking up by the dozen.”
Calum wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his. “Let him do his worst. I’m ready.”
“You know, I remember him texting me to say that he’d met you during his first week at NYU. I’m glad he did. From what he’s told me, you’ve been a good friend to him.”
“He’s my ride or die,” Calum explained. “I have three brothers by blood, but four in reality. Zane is family, and his happiness is all I care about.”
Lighthearted Calum melted away, and hard lines framed his mouth, his tone holding a warning that never made it to his lips. Still, it came across, loud and clear, and needed addressing. Calum was in Zane’s life, which meant he was in her life, and she refused to have any bad blood between them.
“I guess he’s told you what happened? What I did and why I did it?”
