Hendrix: A Raleigh Raptor Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  "What?"

  "Oh, nothing," London said, sitting down her pink drink. "I just think this was an interesting suggestion," she said.

  "I'm glad you did," Paul said. "Gary's been dying to come here."

  "Oh yeah, where is he?" I asked, trying desperately to change the subject from my bloodhound of a friend.

  "Just finishing up some work. He should be in here within the hour."

  "What made you suggest this club again?" London asked, totally digging into me.

  I glared at her.

  "What is it?" She feigned innocence. "Oh, that's right," she said, snapping her fingers. “Didn't Hendrix tell you about this place? Doesn't he come here a lot?"

  I blew out of breath, unable to deny her or the hopeful anticipation thrumming in my veins. "A ton of the Raptors come here," I said by way of answer. I hid behind my soda water, squeezing the lime from the rim into the sparkling drink.

  "But we've never come before…" London left the sentence hanging there, that sweet smile of hers going a little bit on the too-sweet side.

  I smirked at her and shook my head. "Finish your drink, pretty girl," I said, nodding to her half-empty drink. "I want to go to the roof and properly celebrate your badass accomplishments."

  "Badass? I don't think that's one I've ever been called before."

  "You're going to be working for the Carolina Reapers," Paul said, finishing his drink. "If you weren't a badass before, you better be one now. Half the players on that team look like they could break you in two."

  I barked out a laugh, and London's cheeks went entirely red at Paul's innuendo.

  "There will be no breaking," London said, shaking her head a little too quickly. "I'm a professional. The last thing I'm going to do is fall for a hockey player. Trust me on that."

  "Oh, we trust you," I said a little teasingly as I hooked my elbow through hers. "Trust you to dance your ass off in a minute," I said as I walked her through the main dance floor and toward the grand iron spiral staircase that led to the rooftop bar.

  I couldn't stop my eyes from scanning the interior of the building as we climbed the stairs, this vantage point giving me a complete view of the club. I hated the disappointment that made my chest tight, made my stomach sink at the pair of blue eyes that I didn't lock onto.

  What had I been thinking? That he would just magically be here and decide to give me an answer? I was behaving like a little girl with a crush.

  I pushed open the door, holding it open for London and Paul as they passed through. The warm night air greeted us as we made our way onto the rooftop of the building, the sky almost a royal midnight blue. The old architectural buildings of downtown peppered the skyline. A more modest dance floor took up the left side of the rooftop, and a smaller bar took up the right. Small round-top tables were scattered strategically along the railed off edge of the building, and I couldn't help but deeply breathe in the sights. It was elegant, just this side of wild, and with a hint of danger. Totally a club that Hendrix would frequent. No wonder he talked about it constantly.

  His favorite haunt, if I remembered correctly.

  But as my heart sank even further at no sight of Hollywood showing his face, I shook off the disappointment and squared my shoulders.

  Tonight was about celebrating London's achievements, and I was going to make sure she had one hell of a time.

  So while Paul headed for the bar, I dragged London onto the dance floor, swishing our hips to the beat and spinning her until we were both hoarse with laughter.

  7

  Hendrix

  “Are you going to be okay over there?” Roman asked, arching a brow.

  “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, my eyes scanning over the rooftop crowd at Tricks. The hum of nervous energy was with me no matter what I was up to.

  Throwing with Weston? Yep.

  Working out in my home gym? You bet.

  Brushing my teeth, showering…any moment my mind had the slightest hint of downtime, I was a fidgeting mess.

  It had been a week since Savannah dropped her little proposition on me, and for every minute I spent telling myself that it was asinine to even think of agreeing, there was a devil on my shoulder telling me all the ways it could work.

  We could be careful…quiet—at least when it came to keeping us a secret. As for noise, I’d make sure she screamed my name loud enough for all of Raleigh to hear.

  The thought turned my lips upward.

  “Seriously.” Roman lifted his eyebrows, giving a pointed look to my knee as I bounced it up and down.

  “Oh. Right.” I stilled my knee and leaned forward as we sat on the leather sofas that made up the VIP section of Tricks. I liked it up here. The pergola was covered on two sides, with thick canvas, and sheer curtains in front of us, blocking us from the sight of the majority of the crowd while giving us stellar views of downtown.

  “Something on your mind?” Teagan asked from where she was curled into Roman’s side.

  “He needs to get laid,” Roman said with a smirk. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this jumpy.”

  “Stop,” Teagan lectured, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s hot that you’ve been holding out for someone who could be more than an awkward morning after.” She offered me a smile. “Now, if you’d just let me fix you up with someone…”

  “Okay, that’s enough chatter about my sex life.” I shook my head and gazed through the sheer material that turned the crowd hazy.

  “Hey, I’m talking romance, not sex.” She tilted her head. “I mean, I’m sure there would eventually be sex, but it’s not like you have to choose one or the other.”

  “Thank God,” Roman muttered.

  I snorted. “Remind me why we’re here again?” I leaned toward the gossamer curtain, seeing a flash of red on the floor on the terrace below. We were up on the terrace, only a half-dozen feet above the dance floor, but it was more than enough to give us the full view of the floor—sans details.

  “Because I wanted to go dancing and you needed to get out of the house,” Teagan answered, tucking her feet up under her and snuggling deeper into Roman.

  “Right.” Another glimpse of long red hair had me standing at the end of the sofa and pushing the button that drew back the sheers.

  “You know I was only kidding about getting laid, right?" Roman asked. "I'm absolutely down for you expecting more from your life."

  "I'm not going trolling," I threw over my shoulder as I kept my eyes locked on the crowd.

  There.

  My stomach dipped as I spotted Savannah dancing on the edge of the crowd. Her black skirt was short, her boots high, her purple blouse cut straight across her collarbone. Her hair was down and loose, and I nearly swallowed my tongue when she turned her back to me, lifting her long red tresses from the back of her neck, no doubt seeking relief from the humid night air. The blouse was damn near backless, showcasing every inch of her smooth skin as she moved to the beat.

  My blood heated. I knew how her body moved against mine. Knew exactly how she felt pressed against me, under me. Knew the curves, the lines, the taste of her mouth. My fingers bit into the railing at the edge of the terrace. I traveled a half-dozen feet without even realizing it, her pull was just that strong.

  She didn't see me as she walked to the right, sliding through the crowded dance floor. It looked like she was headed to the bar.

  I heard a soft murmur behind me, and a quick glance told me Roman and Teagan were thoroughly engaged in each other.

  Savannah approached the bar, a woman about her age following on her heels as she took the only open seat, her back turned toward me.

  Every muscle in my body went taut as the guy next to her showed blatant interest. They must've known each other, especially given the way he laughed and nodded. There was something familiar in his gaze, something really familiar as he leaned forward so she could speak in his ear.

  Guess she was tired of waiting for my response.

  I shouldn't
have been surprised—Savannah had always gone after what she wanted, made her decisions with the same confidence she carried herself with—but I was. Surprised, insulted, and if the heat flooding my veins was any indication, angry, too. I hadn't made up my mind yet, but it seemed she had.

  I leaned forward over the banister as if the added inches would give me some kind of super hearing to make out the words between them. He drew back slightly and nodded as her thighs parted.

  As his hands slipped to the top of one thigh.

  As he dropped off his stool and put that thigh at his eye level.

  "What the fuck?" By the time his head disappeared, I'd already sprung over the banister, clearing it with one jump to land on the pavement below. I ignored the startled gasps around me and barreled my way to the bar. Loverboy was still on his knees when I got there.

  "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" I spun Savannah on the barstool, knocking the guy in the head with her knee.

  "Hendrix?" Savannah gawked up at me, her mouth gaping open.

  "What do you think you're doing? Or is getting off in public one of your kinks?" I kept my eyes on hers, my hands bracketing her hips as I leaned closer, taking up her space.

  "I'm sorry?" She had the nerve to look flabbergasted.

  "You know what? We're not discussing this here," I snapped. I dipped, pressing my shoulder into her abdomen and standing, securing the backs of her thighs with my forearm as I lifted her.

  "Are you kidding me?" she whispered the hiss in my ear, her composure testament to an unfair childhood in the spotlight of a media hungry for scandal.

  “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” I warned the guy who stared at me with half shock and half appreciation.

  He put his hands up like he was under arrest and leaned back on the barstool.

  “Nice.” What a douche. There was zero chance I would have let anyone walk off with Savannah like I was currently doing. Registering the feel of her bare skin against my arm, I lowered her slightly. That skirt was short and getting shorter by the step. The last thing I wanted was for everyone to see the incredible ass under it.

  "You're a Neanderthal," she accused, pushing up on my shoulders so I carried her upright through the crowd. I glanced to make sure no one had a cell phone out, but I wasn't sure I would've stopped even if I'd seen one. Red hot rage churned through my stomach, laced with something insidiously stomach-churning that I didn't want to examine too closely.

  You’re jealous, you moron.

  "I'm the Neanderthal?" I questioned, slamming my empty hand against the push bar and walking us into the deserted hallway lined with management offices. "I wasn't the one with some guy’s head up my skirt in full view of the crowded bar."

  "Put me down," she seethed.

  I walked into the corner office, slamming the door behind us, then gripped her waist and lowered her to the hardwood floor. A quick flip of the light switch, and it was more than easy to see just how furious she was at me.

  Too. Damn. Bad.

  "First, I'd pay money to see you in a skirt," she retorted, jabbing me in the chest with her finger and glaring up at me like she was the wronged party here. "And secondly, Paul's head wasn't up my skirt." The impact of her fury was somewhat diminished when she had to stop to brush her hair out of her face.

  "Close enough!” I raked my hands over my hair. I was never going to be able to scrub that image from my mind.

  “Oh, my God, Hendrix, the zipper for my boot broke, see?” She marched to one of the two chairs that faced the heavy desk in the center of the room and turned it slightly, then hauled her boot up onto the cushion, exposing her inner thigh.

  It took a second for me to roll my tongue back into my mouth and pay attention to what she was actually saying because damn. Okay, maybe I am a Neanderthal.

  “He was just trying to see what happened,” she continued, pointing to the inch or so of separated zipper just above her knee. Her gaze swung to mine and narrowed. “I swear to God if you make a Pretty Woman joke, I’m going to throttle you.”

  “What?” I just about shook my head to get my brain back in the game.

  “Zipper. Broken.” She arched an eyebrow.

  “And the guy who sent his hands up your skirt?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “Paul is my friend, and it’s none of your damned business where I let him put his hands.” She lowered her foot.

  “It sure as hell is if you’re the one asking me to put my hands there!” I snapped.

  “Huh.” She cocked her head to the side as a wide grin spread across her face. “You’re jealous.”

  Heat rushed up my neck. “Hardly. That guy wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with you if he ever got you into bed. You’d chew him up and spit him out for breakfast.” No one that gave her up that easily to a stranger at a bar deserved her. Period.

  “Well, on that, we can agree. Paul is gay.” She hoisted an eyebrow.

  I blinked. “He’s gay.”

  “Yep. Been with his boyfriend for almost a year now. They’re both great guys.” The sparkle in her eyes was pure mischief.

  “And he was just helping you with your boot,” I said slowly, feeling every ounce of the jackass I was.

  “He sure was.” Her gaze skimmed down my body, lingering where my tee was pulled tight across my chest and biceps. Then she tugged her lower lip between her teeth, and I damn-near groaned. “When are you going to give me an answer?”

  “About?” I leaned back against the thick wood of the door, putting as much distance between us as possible.

  “Fucking me?” That word had never sounded so hot.

  “That’s the best thing about you. You know that?” I said softly despite the hunger that held me by the balls, unraveling the threads of my self-control.

  “The fucking?” Two little lines appeared between her eyebrows. “Because we haven’t gotten there yet.”

  And now I was hard.

  “Your honesty. The way you say exactly what’s on your mind and don’t play games.” I gave her a long, thorough look, my blood heating as I took in the rise of her breasts—coming faster now, the dip of her waist and swell of her hips, and the silk of her exposed thigh that turned to leather where her boots began. “Though I’m sure the fucking would be right up there, too.”

  Her lips parted. “You want me.”

  “Every minute of every damned day.” There was no use denying it.

  She shifted her weight. “Then why won’t you give us both what we want? You know I’ll keep it between us. My father will never know. I swear. I’d never risk your career like that.”

  “I know.” I did. She loved the Raptors just as much as I did. Even if we weren’t friends in our own way—which we were, she’d never let the Raptors lose me.

  “Then what’s stopping you?” She stalked forward, sleek and agile as a mountain cat.

  “Savannah…” It was all I could say. Every single one of my reasons felt inconsequential when she looked at me like that, needy and turned on. If she’d been anyone else, I would have tackled her already, and yet she was the only one who’d ever brought me this close to the edge of losing it.

  “I’ll set it all up,” she promised, her eyes lighting up as if she could taste my indecision. “I’ll rent a hotel—”

  I snapped, locking the door with the press of a button and closing the distance between us in three strides. Then her ass was in my hands, and my tongue was in her mouth. There was no sweet preamble or teasing grazes. This was need, unfiltered and raw.

  Kissing her was as crucial to my survival as my next breath.

  She looped her arms around the back of my neck and melted into the kiss, her tongue meeting mine with every stroke and caress like accelerant on an already-blazing fire. I walked forward and set her on the desk, then parted her knees with my hands so I could step between them. My hands ran up her thighs, spreading them wider, and her skirt slid up her equally soft skin.

  I broke the kiss just long enough to glance a
t the sight of my hands splayed over the sides of her thighs, my thumbs sweeping toward the creases where her legs met her hips. “Damn, Savannah,” I muttered, yanking her toward me so her breasts pressed into my chest.

  Then I took her mouth with deliberate, deep strokes, tunneling my fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and tugging, tilting her head for a better angle.

  Her nails bit into the back of my neck as she rocked against me, pulling me closer. I kissed her until both our breaths were broken. Until I knew her mouth as well as I knew my own. Then I tightened my grip in her hair and tugged again to expose her neck.

  She fell back, bracing her weight on her palms as I kissed her neck, her throat, sucked on the inches just above her collarbone.

  “Hendrix,” she moaned, her head rolling back. “I love your mouth.”

  “You’ll fucking worship it by the time I finish with you.” If I ever finished with her. Usually one of everything was enough for me. One kiss from a woman, one touch of her skin, even one fuck, and my curiosity was appeased, the need fading with it.

  But kissing her was even better than the first time. Hotter. More carnal. More dangerous, too.

  My dick swelled against the confines of my jeans, and I leaned into the desk, praying it got the message. I wasn’t taking her on a desk at Tricks, so close to the floor that the pounding beat of the music pulsed through the door.

  I cupped her breasts in my hands and groaned. The built-in bra of her top wasn’t padded, and the stiff peaks of her nipples greeted my thumbs. “You’re phenomenal. Just enough to overflow my hands. Perfect.”

  “You’ll fucking worship me by the time I’m done with you,” she threw my words back at me with a flash of a smile, her eyes closed and head thrown back.

  I huffed a laugh and rolled her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, earning a gasp from her lips and a delicious rock of her hips as her eyes flared wide, meeting mine. I did it again, and she whimpered.

  I kissed her senseless, cupping the heavy weight of her breasts and teasing her nipples just enough to keep her arching, alternating the strokes of my tongue between deep and playful to keep her guessing, never letting her settle into a rhythm.