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Izaac laughs, his hand dropping to my lower back and leading me to the other end of the massive bar. “Do you think you can manage sitting your ass down without getting into a fight with any of my paying customers?”
I roll my eyes and drop my ass onto one of the barstools as Izaac steps around me and makes his way to the other side of the bar. “He’s an asshole,” I remind Izaac, just in case he might have forgotten in the last ten seconds.
“He’s overprotective and in shock. There’s a difference,” he says, grabbing a glass and throwing something together, though I hope that’s not for me because the drink he made me this afternoon was terrible. I can’t imagine this would be any better. “He would have been less surprised if you’d come home and announced you were marrying an Egyptian prince. Learning your little sister went to a sex club . . . that takes a minute for a man to process. Besides, you and I both know you were baiting him.”
“I was not.”
“You were, Aspen,” he chides, his gaze darting back down the long bar to where Becs flirts animatedly with Austin, instantly getting under my skin, despite how I’d told her to flirt to her heart’s content. I suddenly don’t feel so generous. “Besides, no hate to Becs, but between the two of you, if someone were having a wild orgy in front of a bunch of strangers, it’d be her. Not you. That’s not your thing.”
“Oh,” I say, my brow arching. “And you suddenly know what mythingis?”
A smirk stretches across Izaac’s lips, and he glances up at me through a thick row of dark lashes, and something clenches deep in my core. He doesn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes suggests he knows exactly what my thing is.
Izaac holds my stare a moment too long before finally dropping his gaze and breaking the hold he has over me, giving me just a moment to breathe.
What the hell has gotten into him today? Perhaps he fell and smacked his head and is currently nursing a concussion. This bold, handsy version of him is messing with my head. The Izaac I know goes out of his way to remind me nothing will ever happen between us, but the way he keeps looking at me and making excuses to touch me . . . shit. I don’t know what to make of this. He’s making me feel things he and I both know I shouldn’t be feeling, but the more attention he feeds me, the hungrier I get.
“Here,” he finally says, handing me the drink he’s been busily working on. “Drink this and wait here while you cool down. I need to meet with my bar manager and figure out what’s going on with our stock. I’ll be ten minutes tops. Do you think you can keep yourself out of trouble for that long?”
A smirk lifts my lips. “Who knows? I’ve been feeling a little . . . wild since last night,” I say, baiting him as I turn to look out at the people who’ve come to have a great night. “I might need to find someone to throw me up against the bathroom wall.”
“Fucking hell,” Izaac mutters under his breath. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
I glance back at him just in time to catch his eye before he turns and walks away.
Now, why the hell would the idea of me screwing some random guy get him in trouble?
I watch as he leaves, stopping by some woman and pulling her aside. She grabs a folder from under the bar and starts flipping through the pages, but I can’t help but notice how often Izaac’s gaze wanders back to me. Is he trying to watch out for me to make sure I’m okay? Or is he making sure I’m not running off with some stranger and fucking on his dance floor? I can only imagine what Austin would have to say about that.
At the mere thought of my brother, I grab my drink and lift the glass to my lips, taking a hefty sip, and I’m surprised to find it’s not too bad. I keep sipping, and as I do, my gaze lingers on Izaac as he works. He’s the perfect definition of a woman’s wet dream in his dark button-up shirt. It’s been left undone at the top, showing off the perfect amount of his muscled chest, and every time my gaze dips down and lingers there, my mouth begins to water.
He could be Greek or Italian, we don’t really know. There were no details in his adoption papers, but he likes to think he’s some kind of Greek god, so we’ve always rolled with that. Every inch of his body is perfected. He’s so tall with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. I’ve never wanted to sink my nails into him more, and with the dim lighting in the club catching on the ridges of his toned body, he’s simply delicious.
My drink is practically gone by the time he wanders back across the bar, and seeing my nearly empty glass, he swipes it off the bar and starts working on a new one. “You liked that one, huh?”
I smile. “I suppose your bartending skills aren’t as bad as you pretend they are.”
Izaac grins before handing me my new drink. He takes another glass and starts working on something for himself. “You calmed down enough to bite your tongue around your brother? Because if not, I’m gonna need to make this a double.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine,” I say. “Besides, from what I can tell, it looks like Becs has sunk her claws into Austin. If she keeps flirting like that, he won’t even remember who I am.”
Izaac laughs, his gaze lingering on mine. “Not possible,” he murmurs before striding around the bar and stepping into my side. “Come on. You said you wanted to get fucked up, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
Getting fucked up with Izaac Banks? Count me the hell in.
We make our way back over to Austin and Becs, and as I step up in front of them, I find Austin settling a heavy glare on Becs as she looks at me with a wicked grin. My brows furrow, wondering what the hell Becs could have done to warrant such hostility from my brother. She turns to him with expectancy. “Don’t you have something to say?”
Austin’s lips pull into a tight line, anger rolling through his stare as he turns his attention to me. “I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he states. “What you do with your body is none of my business, and I never had the right to question it or make you feel less than because of it.”
Both Izaac and I stare at Austin completely dumbfounded. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my brother give a sincere apology to anyone who isn’t our mother in his whole life. “The fuck?” I blanch.
“And?” Becs prompts, clearing her throat and giving Austin a nudge.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “And I hope you can accept my apology in the form of shots.”
My jaw drops, still gaping at my brother. “Are you ill?” I question, hastily stepping into him and pressing my hand to his forehead. He’s not running a fever.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, shoving my hand away and rolling his eyes. “Do you want the damn shots or not?”
