Wanted

by J. Kenner

  Honestly, I was tempted to do just that.

  On the whole, it was a nice place. Not the Palm Court, but classy in its own way. And the girls were pretty. Not too skinny or used up. They had curves and moves and they looked like they were genuinely enjoying their work. As I followed Cole to the far side of the main room, I didn't see any touching that they didn't somehow consent to. I did see one guy get a little rowdy, but a bouncer who looked like he used to play professional football descended on him like a tick and politely but firmly showed him the door.

  Finally, Cole stopped at one of the tables, signaled to a waitress, then pulled out a chair for me. "So what do you think?"

  "It's a nice place," I said honestly. "Classier than I would have guessed."

  "You thought we'd lean more toward skanky?"

  "No, I--" I cut myself off when I saw his shit-eating grin. "Dammit, Cole. Don't tease me. I'm not exactly in my element here."

  He chuckled. "You sure the hell aren't, baby girl."

  I sat, still taking it all in--and thinking about my words, and the lie hidden within them. Because even though I'd never been any place like this before, the truth was I found the whole environment rather intoxicating. I looked at the girls doing their moves around the pole, and I could imagine myself up there. All eyes on me. My leg hooked around that hard length of steel, and all the while that I was shimmying against the pole, it was Evan that I imagined I was touching.

  I swallowed, looking down at the tabletop until I was certain that my face revealed nothing. I looked up just as the waitress arrived. She wore a top made of gauzy scarves crisscrossed over her breasts. An equally transparent scarf was tied around her waist in what resembled a bathing suit cover with no bathing suit beneath it. She slid a drink in front of Cole and a glass of red wine in front of me. "Shiraz," she said. "I hope that's okay?"

  "Perfect. How did you--"

  "Beth knows everything," Cole said.

  Beth smiled. "I even know that the liquor delivery is here. Since Mr. Sharp already left--"

  "Yeah, yeah. Have Frankie check the invoice. Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

  She nodded and hurried toward the far side of the room.

  I leaned back in my chair. "So what's the deal? You three work out of your downtown office during the week and come here for a little R&R on the weekends?"

  "Fuck that," he said. "Evan's the one with the hard-on for a high rise. Tyler and me? We go in when we have to, but we work mostly out of the back."

  I cocked my head. "So this isn't Evan's kind of place?"

  Cole's eyes narrowed, but I just smiled innocently. "I didn't say that, baby girl. But our Evan's a man of many vices--and many virtues. I guess that makes him multifaceted."

  "I guess it does."

  Cole swallowed the rest of his drink, then thrust his legs out as he leaned back in his chair. "You gonna tell me why you're here? What exactly does Evan owe you?"

  "Cole, I love you to death, but you're completely fucked if you think I'm telling you my personal business."

  He laughed. "You have more of your uncle in you than any of us gave you credit for."

  "I mean it. All I want to do is see Evan. When's he going to get here?"

  "I just wanna help, baby girl. And I get that there's some shit between you and Evan right now. He told me what happened."

  "About the Da Vinci?" I asked, because I couldn't imagine that Evan would have told his friend what went down in the alley.

  It may have been my imagination, but I thought Cole sat up straighter. "The Da Vinci? You mean the Creature Notebook? What about it?"

  I frowned, wondering why Cole was so keyed up about the notebook. Then again, Evan had been in a snit about it, too. "Jahn left it to me, and that didn't make Evan a happy camper." I peered at his face. "Or you, either, I'm guessing. But this is all news to you, which means it's not what Evan told you about. So what did he say?"

  For a moment I had the impression that he was going to force us to stay on the topic of ancient manuscripts. But then he seemed to change his mind. He shrugged casually. "The alley."

  I'm not sure what he saw on my face, but it made him laugh. "The Poodle on Wednesday, my fine establishment tonight. You're certainly expanding your horizons, Dragonbait."

  I'd never until that moment fully understood what it meant to get your feathers ruffled. But mine were very ruffly indeed. "Fine," I said snippily. "You win. I am expanding my horizons, and I want Evan to expand them even further. I want him to finish what he started. And I came here to convince him that he should."

  I finished my speech, tossed back the rest of my wine, and glared at him, daring him to say anything that might set me off again.

  If he was shocked by my words, he didn't show it. He just leaned back in his seat and studied me. It was an interesting tableau. Cole's eyes on me, his face carved in question. Half-naked women serving drinks behind him. Even more naked women dancing on platforms all around us.

  I'd dropped down into Wonderland, and all I needed was someone to hand me the bottle labeled Drink Me.

  About the time that I was certain he wasn't going to respond at all, he spoke. "It's a losing battle, sweetheart. No way is Evan going against your uncle's wishes. Especially since we all know that Jahn was right."

  "I don't know it."

  For the first time, his expression turned brotherly. "You'd end up getting hurt, Angie. And that's the last thing any of us want. Shit." He ran his hand over his buzz-cut hair. "Honestly, it's a damn good thing that Evan's the one with the hard-on for you," he said, as my body started to melt simply from the spoken acknowledgment that not only was Evan attracted to me, but he'd told his friends as much.

  "Not that you're not adorable," Cole continued with a grin. "But you're not my type."

  "What do you mean it's a good thing?" I asked warily.

  "Evan has the most self-control of any of us, and the highest capacity for self-deprivation. You're sweet, Angie, and Evan doesn't do sweet. And if he thinks that something he's doing will hurt someone he cares about, then he simply doesn't do it. And that's that. Trust me, Angie. Whatever debt you think he owes you from that alley, it's going to remain unpaid."

  "Sweet," I repeated. "He thinks I'm sweet?" My head was swimming. After everything he said to me about taking flight. About wanting to tie me down and fuck me silly?

  After the way his tongue had teased my clit? After the way he'd made me come?

  After all that, he thinks I'm sweet?

  "Aren't you?" Cole asked, and I could hear the laughter in his voice.

  Instead of answering, I signaled for Beth, calling for her to bring me a flight of tequila shots. She arrived with three, and I tossed them back while Cole watched.

  "Trying to prove something?" he asked.

  "Not a damn thing. I just prefer tequila over wine. What?" I asked innocently. "You didn't know that?" I pressed my finger to my chin. "Hmm. Maybe you three don't know me as well as you think."

  "Angie--" There was censure in his voice, but I cut him off.

  "No. I told you once I wasn't dragonbait, and I meant it. You haven't got a clue what will and will not hurt me, so don't sit there acting all smug and pretend like you really believe that you three are in cahoots with Jahn to keep me safe. Because that's bullshit." I glared at him. "And don't make assumptions about what I want or need."

  Sweet.

  The word grated on me, which was ironic since I'd been playing the role for almost eight years. But it wasn't sweet that I wanted Evan to see. More, I'd believed that he'd seen under my sugary coating to the gooey center inside. Wild and tasty and very high in calories.

  Apparently I'd been wrong.

  Apparently I'd just have to fix that.

  Unfortunately, I wasn't sure how.

  Cole reached over the table and put his hand atop mine. "I'm going to go take care of that liquor delivery, and then I'm going to drive you home. We can talk on the way."

  "I'm not going anywhere. I'
m waiting here for Evan, and I don't particularly feel like talking."

  "Fine. I'm still going to go take care of that delivery. And you may want to wait here, but last I checked, I owned the place and you didn't. So I'll be driving you home and you can just bitch about it."

  "Cole--"

  "Don't Cole me. As for the scintillating conversation, we can talk about music. We can talk about movies. Hell, we can talk about that damned Da Vinci notebook. But I'm making sure you get home safe, so you wait for me here, okay?"

  I nodded, too defeated to argue. Evan hadn't yet arrived, and I could hardly dig my heels in if Cole was determined to get me out of there.

  In other words, I was screwed. And at the moment, I had no plan B.

  He headed toward the back where a guy, presumably Frankie, was holding up a clipboard and some paper.

  I sat and stewed and looked around. Some of the nearby men turned to look at me, but no one approached, and I assumed that was because I'd been sitting with Cole. That was fine; I had no interest in these men. No real interest in what was going on in this room. There was lust, true. Lust and heat and attraction. Not sparks, though. Not electricity. This room was about sex and titillation, and while I didn't have a problem with that, it wasn't what I wanted.

  What I wanted was Evan. The power. The explosion.

  I wanted to experience what I'd felt in his arms, and I wanted him to take me where he'd promised we'd go.

  And damn it all, it was pissing me off that I wasn't able to get what I wanted.

  And then--like a dream--there he was. Evan.

  I actually blinked twice, in fact, afraid that I was only imagining him. Because how on earth could my fervent wishes have conjured him?

  But it was true. He was real and solid and despite the dim light, I could see the hard angles of his face and the dark fire of his eyes. He was staring right at me--and he didn't look happy.

  Well, shit.

  I started to stand--then sat down again when he turned away and moved toward one of the darkened corners, crooking his finger at a petite redhead who followed him with the kind of sexual confidence I was trying desperately to conjure.

  I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. I stood up and moved across the room, then settled down at a table closer to that corner.

  I was looking at him from an angle, unable to see the expression on his face, but not really needing to. I could see the redhead just fine. The sultry expression as she slowly moved to straddle him. The way she bit her lip when he put his hands on her hips. She dipped down, teasing his crotch, brushing against him with the tiny bit of material that covered her sex. Then she rose and leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her face rapturous.

  I watched, and I seethed.

  At the same time, though, I was strangely fascinated. I wanted to be that woman. I wanted to writhe upon him, to turn him on, to feel him grow hard beneath me. I wanted to be the one making him crazy. Me, and no one else.

  Certainly not that little twit of a redhead.

  I stood, not certain what I intended to do, but knowing damn well that I had nothing to lose. I tugged a fifty dollar bill from my wallet, then marched toward them. Evan didn't even look up when the girl turned to look at me.

  I handed her the bill. "Go."

  She glanced at Evan, who nodded just once.

  The girl scurried away, and I reveled in my tiny victory.

  I circled the chair until I was standing right in front of him. "You shouldn't be here," he said, but I only leaned forward and pressed a finger to his lips.

  "Don't," I said.

  "Don't what?"

  But I just shook my head, said a silent thank-you that my circle skirt had enough material to hide a multitude of sins, and settled myself on his lap. Or, more accurately, over his lap, because while my knees were pressed into the soft leather of the overstuffed armchair, there was no actual contact going on except for the slight brushing of my knees against the outside of his thighs.

  It didn't matter. I was already wet, my sex hot, my panties clinging to me. The bit of cool air that sneaked in under the loose folds of material did little to quell the fire inside me.

  I leaned forward, using my hand on the back of the chair over his shoulder to balance myself. My eyes were locked on his, and he was looking straight at me, too.

  "Don't what?" he repeated. His voice was low, his eyes never leaving mine.

  "Don't put on a show trying to make me think you don't want me."

  He didn't flinch; he didn't move. "Maybe I don't."

  I leaned closer. Slowly. Seductively. "Bullshit."

  His face stayed exactly the same. And yet I could see the smile growing inside of him.

  And as my own smile bloomed, I lowered myself until there was nothing separating us but the satin of my panties and the cotton of his slacks. I held on to the chair, moving my hips forward and back, letting the friction drive me a little crazy. "Did you think I'd run?" I asked, keeping my voice low. "Did you think I'd be shocked watching that woman do these things to you?" I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the curve of his ear. "I wasn't. I didn't even see her. Do you know why?"

  "Why?" he asked, the single syllable more of a growl than a word.

  "Because as far as I was concerned there was no other woman. It was me on your lap," I said as I rocked my hips. "Me touching you. Me making you hard."

  I slid my hand down between our bodies and pressed my hand over his erection.

  And as I watched the heat flare in his eyes, I reveled in a sense of smug satisfaction. Because I knew that, no matter what, I'd won this round.

  thirteen

  "This isn't happening, Angie," he said, blowing away my sense of victory like so much dandelion fluff.

  "You're wrong," I said.

  "I'm very rarely wrong."

  "You're smug, too. I like that in a man." I shifted forward so that my lips brushed his ear as I spoke. "I just want to fuck," I said, and felt my lips curve into a smile as his cock stiffened in response to my raw--but very honest--words. "I'm not asking for a wedding ring. I'm not asking for forever. I'm not asking for any commitment at all. Hell, I'm not even asking for a date. I only want this," I said as I stroked him. "I only want to finish what we started."

  "It's not a good idea," he said, and I heard the tight note of control in his voice.

  "I think it's one of the best ideas I've ever had," I murmured. "What was it you said when you ran out of the condo? About how you made a promise to my uncle? You're so damn worried about keeping your promises. Well, you know what, Evan? You made one to me, too. Maybe not in words, but ..." I trailed off, letting my body language finish that sentence as I shifted on his lap, feeling wild. Feeling reckless. He was right--we shouldn't. And yet how could I stop when this was what I'd wanted for so damn long? When I needed it so desperately?

  I brushed my lips over his. I felt powerful, certain victory was near, and I didn't intend to relinquish an inch.

  I pulled back, my eyes locked on his. "I want what you promised me."

  "Dammit, Angie ..."

  "You say you're a bad bet?" I pressed, determined to cut off all protests. "I don't care. Not everyone goes to Vegas to win. Some just go to have fun."

  "I like to win." His rough voice sent shivers over me.

  "Then I'm your prize. No," I said, pressing my finger to his lips before he could say another word. "I want to go wild with you, Evan. I want to fly with you. One time. Can't we both take the risk one time?"

  "It's reckless," he said, as his hand slid up my back to cup my neck.

  "Maybe."

  "You'll regret it," he murmured as his other hand stroked my exposed thigh.

  My breath was ragged. "I won't."

  "It won't be gentle. If I let go, I'm not going to hold back."

  "I'm not asking you to." Triumph swelled through me as I swallowed. My breasts were painfully tight and my sex throbbed, demanding everything he was promising. "Don't you get it? I wan
t it all. I want to fly."

  "Fly?" he said as that hand moved higher and higher, each millimeter setting off a flurry of sparks that ricocheted through me. There was no hesitation left in his voice, just passion and a power so vibrant that I knew without a doubt that any control I'd thought I had was now buried under the strength of this man.

  "How high do you want to go?" His finger eased up to trace the edge of my panties. "This high?" he asked as he slipped his finger under the elastic and stroked my baby soft skin.

  I couldn't help the little moan that escaped my lips as I lost myself in the pleasure of his touch.

  "Oh, baby," he murmured, as he stroked me, his fingers teasing and exploring. "But you haven't answered me. You want to fly"--he thrust a finger deep inside me, and I bit back a cry as my body tightened around him, silently begging for more--"you need to tell me how high."

  But I couldn't tell him anything. I could only feel, could only exist in that moment. That power I'd felt only moments before had completely faded. I was as weak as a kitten and completely at his mercy.

  I shifted, lifting myself up a bit to give him better access and, yes, to silently beg for more.

  He flashed a self-satisfied smile, then added another finger. He was deep inside me, the soft pad at the base of his thumb teasing my clit as his fingers filled me. I was desperately wet, my hips moving in rhythm with his thrusts. I was need and desire personified. He had reduced me completely.

  "I'm going to take you to the heavens, Angie. And I'm going to be your tether to this earth when you explode."

  I whimpered, then shifted on his lap. Somewhere in my mind reason shouted that I needed to get free before I came right there, but at the same time I didn't want this to ever end.

  He leaned forward and captured my mouth in a kiss, his hand on my neck holding me in place while he deepened it, his tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers inside me. I was lost, floating, shimmering with sensation. And when he pulled away, I moaned in protest of the loss.

  Reality returned to me for the briefest of moments, and I glanced around, realizing just how public we were. The corner was dark and we were alone, but there were waitresses walking by and dancers on the platforms and somewhere, though I didn't see him, was Cole.

  "Evan," I began, but his soft "No" cut me off.

  "You started this," he said with a grin that held both mischief and mastery. "Stay still and no one will know." He was stroking me as he spoke, his fingers sliding from my cunt to my tight and sensitive clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, so aroused it was almost painful. I felt on fire, every inch of me sizzling. But then it shifted as all that feeling, all that electricity, all that pleasure, gathered like a storm.