Sanam’s laughing. She’s got that squinting-eye look as her hands clap together, mouth parted. I can’t hear it over the loud music, but I know the sound is high-pitched. I tap her slender hip, getting her attention.
I shout, “I’m going to use the restroom!”
She lifts a finger in the air, the universal sign for wait one second.
Jayme takes Sanam’s hand as she daintily steps off the table.
Picking up a bottle of tequila, she fills a full shot glass and lifts it up between her perfectly manicured fingers. “At least take another drink before you go. I hate seeing you so miserable when we’re all happy.” She pouts.
Rolling my eyes, I take the drink from her hand and swallow it down in one gulp.
2
Slade
I gave my friends shit when they told me we were going to a costume party, but apparently, this is tonight’s hot spot. A well-known rap artist, whose name I can’t even remember, is performing.
Hip-hop blasts around the dimly lit club as we step into the throng teeming with sweaty, half-naked bodies. The dance floor is full of women in lingerie and men who look like they just left lockup. People see us walking forward and immediately make way, parting to steer clear. Lots of guys on the SEAL Teams aren’t big. But we are.
At the Mile, we work our security team with a single-minded purpose that borderlines on insane. Working for Vincent Borignone means staying in complete control all the time. But, tonight, we’re in Vegas to let out some of that pent-up steam, and we aim to tear it up.
I lean on the black lacquered bar. “Three tequila limes.”
The bartender wears a black push-up bra and micromini. She’s got a throwback 1950s Playboy centerfold thing going for her. Retro or whatever the word is. Jet-black hair with straight-cut bangs. A black line on her eyelids that flicks up at the end, sort of like a cat eye would look. She’s even got bright red lipstick. I let my eyes take their fill, her practically nude body on display. I’ll be able to enjoy it more when I’m drunk enough to relax.
“Anything else you want?” She leans forward against the shiny bar top, putting her massive fake tits closer to my face. Her question is filled with possibilities that have nothing to do with my drink order.
“I can think of a few things. Let’s start with those drinks though, yeah?” My voice is gravelly.
She smiles wide. “I’m Candice.”
“Slade.” I want to grin, but my mouth refuses to turn up. I’m so damn tired. I drank my body weight in liquor last night and slept like shit. My liver is angry as fuck, but here I am, planning on doing it all again. But harder.
Turning around to pour the drinks, she makes a nice show of bending over, showing me her tight, pert ass.
Nice.
Rob rubs his hands together, scheming. “Bachelorette party, twelve o’clock.” He points north, his white button-down shirt rolled up to his tatted forearms. “Could be just what we need tonight.”
After I choked out Lilly, Rob and I spoke. He hooked me up with some benzos a doctor prescribed to his brother-in-law for anxiety. Men like us don’t need to be psychoanalyzed. I can take care of myself. I didn’t spend twelve years engaging and prepping for war, only to come home, crying to some doctor who doesn’t know shit about shit when it comes to what I went through overseas. If I saw a shrink, he’d smash my head open. Memories that I never want to discuss—ever—would be called out and brought into the real world. And once those demons are freed? There’s no putting them back. That would fuck me up more than anything, no doubt. Luckily, Rob understood me perfectly.
The drugs have been a huge help, pausing the never-ending leak of memories that plague me at night. Still, I’m careful not to have any women or friends stay over. While the meds work wonders, they’re not foolproof.
I just need a little more time to get myself back under control. I can handle it. I’m going to find a hot girl or two tonight, get laid, and release some of this stress simmering under my skin. It’ll work.
I hear laughter next to me and turn toward it. Ultra-slutty attire has my eyes widening. Sparkling white angel wings, lacy white bras, and thong panties. I’m enormously enjoying the view until I see their faces. They’re girls, and they all look about sixteen, smiling and taking selfies. My jaw drops.
“Tell me all the women here aren’t teenagers,” I grumble, rubbing the back of my neck and feeling like a creeper.
“I hope they are,” Mike replies with an evil grin, doing his vampire costume justice.
“Sick fuck.”
I laugh, lifting my hand to slap him behind the head. He ducks quickly and chuckles as my hand makes a clean sweep, slicing through air.
“Yeah, as if you haven’t done some crazy-ass shit yourself, motherfucker. Who could forget Candy, eh?”
We continue to talk smack when my eyes pause on the bachelorette party. I tune out my idiot friends and focus on the bride-to-be, wearing a sparkling crown. A one-night stand with one of these women would be good. Exactly what I need. I admire the half-naked nurse. The slutty devil. Oh, Risky Business—always a good costume. And then I pause at the flight attendant, who might not be dressed as scantily as the rest of her group, but whose body is straight-up sexy. Legs for miles into a small waist. Perfect tits. I move my eyes to her face, marked with a scowl, and pause.
Holy shit. Is it her?
The strobe lights move across the group, making it difficult to be sure. I wait patiently for colors to shift. Finally, yellow hits her face in just the right angle, and I can confirm. It is her. Still hot as fuck, but angrier than before. A hand flies to her hip as she talks to her crown-wearing friend. Yeah, she definitely isn’t happy right now. Luckily for her, I can change that.
Her hair is long and wavy, like she just came from the beach. It looks damn good. Last time I saw her, it was pulled back tightly for Vincent and Eve’s wedding in some fancy style. Actually, after I was done with her, it looked a lot like this. I can’t help but chuckle at the memory. Was it really only a few months ago? She’s just so … beautiful. Something about the shape of her brown eyes, large and almond, makes my dick twitch. I adjust but keep my eyes trained on the prize.
I asked her what her ethnicity was, but she was shady as hell about it, playing around and never giving me a straight answer. I continue to stare, vividly remembering the night of the wedding.
“Let’s go for a walk.” Grabbing two wineglasses from the wooden bar, I stuff them in the back pockets of my khakis before taking a cold bottle of white from the bartender. “Thanks, man.”
We pound fists. He’s the son of one of the board members on the tribal council, and Vincent and I both spar with him from time to time. He’s never fought competitively, but he is pretty quick on his feet.
“A walk?” she repeats.
I face her and notice her pink lips, nice and full. My eyes trail down to her nipples, which have pebbled beneath her gown. She catches me staring and immediately drops a hand over a slender hip, daring me to keep looking. Good thing I’m not the type of man who hides. I’m not into cryptic shit. If I want something, I go for it. No excuses and no bullshit. The last hour has been spent taking shots and making jokes. It’s been great, but I’m ready to move on.
“Yeah,” I start. “You know, put one foot in front of the other. Walk.” I raise the bottle of wine in my hand and lift my brows, promising more fun. “My truck isn’t too far.”
“Well, I don’t walk in heels like these,” she sasses back, shrugging.
I look down and laugh. She wasn’t lying. Those shoes are pretty damn high. Strappy and pointy and who the fuck knows what.
“Take them off.” I stare at the death traps on her feet. “I’ll hold them for you. Why did you even put that shit on tonight? You’re in the mountains, if you didn’t notice.”
She squints. “Shit? They’re my shoes.”
I grunt, feigning understanding.
Her eyes roll. “You don’t get it.”
“Guess
not.” I tip my head, trying to charm my way around the fact that I have zero clue what she’s saying.
The women I grew up with had three pairs of shoes—flips, sneakers, and work boots. Lauren wears the kind of fancy shit that I can barely get my head around. I guess they’re sexy, but she’d be hot in anything.
She huffs, “Fine. I’ll take them off.” A flirty kind of annoyance is written on her face. “But only because you served my country. Don’t want to seem … ungrateful.”
I laugh, and she bites her cheek, not wanting to let on. This girl. She crouches down, and after a few moments, she stands back up again. She’s a lot shorter than what I’m used to. I’m well over six feet, and she looks about five foot three. Surprisingly, I like it.
We walk away from the twinkling Christmas lights outlining the wedding area.
Her bare feet, softly arched, slowly pad forward. “If I get something stuck in my foot, you’d better be ready to remove it.”
“No worries. I’ve got a whole kit in my truck.”
“Boy Scout.”
“You know it.”
I take the shoes from her hands before sparing a glance at the newly married couple, who are so up in each other’s love that they can barely see straight. The music is fast, but Vincent and Eve are at their own leisurely pace.
Walking toward my truck, I smell vanilla and citrus. It’s her. I want this woman. And it’s not just because she’s gorgeous. She actually makes me laugh, which is rare. Smarter than she seems, too. She plays it off to be all simple and sweet, but if there’s something I’ve learned tonight, it’s that there’s more than meets the eye. The fact that she’s here for a limited time doesn’t hurt either. We can have a great time, and then she’ll head on home to LA. No stress.
I turn to her as she breathes in the fresh air around us. It’s so dark.
“This is it,” I tell her as my red truck comes into view.
She leans against the side, looking sexy as hell. I just spent the last hour trying to make the girl smile, and now, with the way she’s staring at me, I feel like yelling, Hooyah! I love completing a good challenge, and the finish line is so close; I can taste it.
“So, is this where you wanted me?” Her tongue teases through parted glossy lips.
Before she can open up that pretty mouth of hers again, I lift her round ass into my hands and place her on the car’s bed. Her legs spread apart, making room for me. My lips press against hers, and she immediately grabs my back, moaning. Fuck, she tastes so good. Like wine and berries.
I start pulling on the straps of her dress, wanting it off, as I move my mouth to the side of her neck.
“Wait, wait. My dress. The buttons—”
I’m panting. “Huh?” My dick strains against my jeans.
“Don’t rip it. It’s Mendel.”
I remove my mouth from her collarbone. “Mend-who?”
“Like, a serious designer.”
I curse. “Turn around. Let me take the thing off.”
“You can’t do it in the dark, Slade.” Again, that annoyed voice.
Why it turns me on, I don’t have a clue. The girls I grew up with are down-home and relaxed. Not snooty upper class. I have no idea how a woman like her operates, but right now, I’ll do basically anything to make us happen. My dick and I, we’re in agreement. We want this girl.
I slide my hand up under her dress, pushing her panties to the side to feel her soaked, hot center. She sucks in a breath as my fingers circle her clit.
“I’m going to fuck you so good. You’d better tell me how to get this dress off before I grab my knife and cut it off,” I growl.
She brazenly puts her hand down my pants, stroking my cock while my hand stays up her skirt. I thought I was hard, but her soft hand on my dick has my brain short-circuiting. I can hear her gasp as I reach up higher and curl my finger up, hitting her spot.
“Don’t you have a flashlight or something? Isn’t survival, like, your thing?” Her voice comes out strangled as she lets go.
I laugh. The combination of wanting to fuck like crazy and this stupid dress has my wires crossed. I lazily pull my hand out of her wet heat before moving away.
I run to the side of my car, pants and belt undone with my dick hanging out, and pull the flashlight from under the passenger seat. I’ve got my knife here, too, but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate this dress getting sliced in half. I make it back to her and freeze. She’s sitting on her knees, facing the dark mountains. Finally moving her head to me, her brown eyes blink in amusement.
“Are your parents Middle Eastern?”
God, she’s beautiful. That thick hair is a beautiful shade of golden blonde, but I can see the darkness at her roots.
She smirks. “Just take it off, Slade.”
Holy fuck, if this girl isn’t the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, I don’t know who is.
I move behind her, letting my hands rove over her creamy, nude thighs. My callous fingers skate against her delicate skin. She’s perfect. A large part of me wants to take her just like this with her dress around her waist. But the other part of me—the smarter one—wants to get her totally naked.
Button by button, so slowly, I begin opening her dress. I’m surprised to realize that I’ve never undressed a woman like this before. I touch her bare back and kiss the spot between her shoulder blades. She’s getting antsy, so I slide my hand into her pussy again, taking my time. Still soaked.
“You’re enjoying this?” she asks, trying to mask her arousal with a steady voice. She can’t hide from me. Her body betrays her—wet.
“You bet I am.” I continue to touch her with one hand and open her dress with the other.
Finally, the last button is undone. She gasps as I blow across her nude back. She shivers.
“Turn that off?” Her voice is all breathy as she stares at the flashlight, the mouth on her suddenly stilled to a whisper.
As the straps of her dress fall from her slender shoulders, I’m silenced. For the first time in my life, I want to make sex amazing for the woman in front of me. It’s not just about getting off and having fun. I don’t know what it is I’m trying to prove, but I want to show her that I can do it better than any of these prissy fucks she’s had before me. Because I’m better than them. And I’m the best she’ll ever have.
“No.” I shake my head. “Stand up. And pull your dress off nice and slow. For me.”
I step back to watch, shifting the flashlight to face her. She’s on display, standing like a vision from my dreams. Listening to my commands, the way I like. And, just like that, her dress falls. Perfectly shaped breasts. Flat, defined stomach.
“Now, come suck my dick before I fuck you.”
“Yo, dude. Earth to Slade. Those drinks are sitting on the bar, man.” Mike gestures to the shot glasses sitting before me.
I take them off, holding two in each hand, and pass them out, completely ignoring the bartender, who is expectantly staring at me.
Lauren. It’s her.
Walking away from her group of friends, she raises her head. I dart my eyes, figuring out where she’s headed while trying not to lose sight of her in the crowd. She has table service, which means she isn’t coming to the bar for a drink. Finally, I see the word RESTROOM in pink neon letters on the opposite end of the club.
Her shoulders are tight as she presses through dancing bodies. The Lauren I met at the wedding was fun-loving and constantly smiling.
I distinctly remember us talking about anything and everything, joking around as the sun came up while she sat in my arms in my truck’s bed. I told her about growing up in Virginia, and she asked me a million and one questions about what it was like to be the captain of the football team in a small town. I asked her about living in a big city and if upper-class private school was as cutthroat as they said. We talked about work and our dreams. She was unsatisfied with her current career, and I told her I was looking forward to handling more at Milestone and expanding my security busin
ess. Damn, did we laugh together. I ribbed her about her uptown-girl status but knew that she was totally different than the picture she painted to the world. Actually, she amazed me with how funny and smart she was. It was … unexpected.
She made it clear that she was looking for long-term, not that I would have been opposed to that option once upon a time. Hell, after she left, I wanted to call her. We were opposites, but there was something real between us. A connection that went beyond attraction.
After the Lilly fiasco, a relationship with a woman can only be temporary. At least, until I regain control of my psyche. Lilly and I spoke after that horrible night. Luckily, she had a father who’d served. She urged me to seek help, and we managed to part on decent terms. As of today, anything more than a one-night stand isn’t in the cards. It can’t be.
Between memories of war and keeping my day-to-day life maintained and focused, there’s no room for anything more than a quick fuck, followed by a drop-off. But tonight and for this particular woman? There are plenty of hours for fun.
I place my drink back on the bar. “Boys, I’m getting some action.”
They hoot as I spot her, catching her again with my eyes. I want to get to the restroom line before her. Surprise her. It’s impossible to stop my smirk as I turn to leave.
“Wait a sec.” Rob pulls out a small baggy from his front pocket. “Brought you more, like you asked. My supply is dwindling. You’ve got to find a doc who’ll write you a script or find a new way to score.”
I take it from his hand.
“Just make sure not to touch Ambien. Sleep meds will mess with you in a way you don’t need. Trust me.”
“Thanks, man. This should be enough.” I slide it in my back pocket. “I’ll be good. Soon.” My voice is confident.
It’s been two months of popping benzos at night and crushing half in my morning coffee. Sometimes taking other pills to get me back up again. But I know this is just for now. Just until I get my head straight.
He nods. “Don’t doubt it.”
Warrior Undone Page 3
