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The small emphasis on his name wasn’t lost on him. She might be acting the part, but she most definitely wasn’t going to let him forget it.
The crash of something glass hitting the floor sparked a round of raucous laughter. Wren pressed closer to him, and he drew her more protectively against his side. Someone started up some music with a driving beat and everyone tipped back more booze.
The girl doling out drinks at the bar passed him a shot glass, but he plucked the whole bottle out of her hand and swaggered around the room with it and Wren. Occasionally, he brought the bottle to his lips and pretended to swig. He could hold his liquor but right now it wasn’t necessary to do more than put on a good show.
After they’d circled the room again, he dropped into a leather armchair and pulled Wren into his lap. She perched stiffly on him for a moment.
Pressing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Try to relax.”
She turned her head and buried her lips against his neck. The soft, plush feel of her lips sent a sharp pang of need to his groin. The weight of her in his lap and her round ass on his thighs weren’t helping matters at all.
“I’m either exhausted or getting high from the smoke in here,” she said against his neck.
He cupped her face and nuzzled her as a way to reply. God, she smelled good. Like pears. Fresh pears. “I know you’re dead on your feet. Give this another couple minutes and we’ll duck out.”
She nodded, mouth trailing over his skin. He narrowly swallowed a growl of need and probably threaded his fingers into her hair with too much strength. She didn’t complain about him tugging the strands, though.
A couple guys wandered over to talk. Both were clearly tanked on alcohol. But the way their gazes skated over Wren made him edgy. He’d seen a few guys battle it out over club whores. The last thing he needed was someone who’d been a Disciple longer than him challenging him for her.
He couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to stop himself—he’d do anything in his power to keep her out of the hands of these men.
As he talked to the guys, Wren looped her arm around his shoulders and began kissing his neck and jaw.
His cock stiffened even as admiration for her commitment to playing the role blurred the lines between what was real and what was fake.
“We’re going on a run later this week, man. You in on it?” one of the guys asked.
He planted his hand on the curve of Wren’s ass and gave it a caress. Her lips stilled and then clamped on his neck in a soft, sucking pull.
Goddamn. He was going to lose it with this woman. Either she had a lot of practice as an actor or…
He could be cocky, but he wasn’t going to delude himself that she wanted him that way. She was just putting on a show.
“If the boss man tells me to go on that run, I’m with you.” He struggled to keep his tone even. Dark desire clawed at his insides.
“I can see you’re busy, man. We’ll talk later.” He waggled his brows at Jennings before wandering off again.
Wren lifted her lips from his neck.
Their stares locked. Her chest heaved almost imperceptibly.
Goddamn. He was in so much trouble with this woman.
* * * * *
“C’mon.” Jennings twitched his head for Wren to follow him. Where was anyone’s guess. She hoped it was a bed…for so many reasons.
She placed her hand in his big one, mind swirling with sleep-deprivation and desire. She felt almost drunk with it.
She was far too aware of the man leading her out of the main room of the clubhouse and down a corridor. He drew her into a dark room and flipped on a light. A gold glow washed over his big, muscled body.
He stared back at her, eyes dark. “Jesus, honey. You can’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, I don’t. Maybe you owe me.”
