Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1)

by Rie Warren

  “Especially since you’re gay.” His eyebrow lifted and with it, the corner of his mouth.

  “Right.” I sat in the chair opposite him, smoothing my hands over the cover of Ride. “Right. But why does she have to be so damn cute? And how the hell does she write this stuff?”

  “You know what they say, practice makes perfect.”

  I pinched my eyebrows hard enough to blot out unwelcome images of her with other men. “Fuck. I hope not.”

  “Did you even start reading at the beginning?” Suspicion lurked in his tone as he squinted between me and the Book of Ball Busting Delights.

  Surprise, he’d caught me.

  “Skimmed for the sex.”

  He started laughing but I added, “Listen to this, man:

  Breakfast. With Jase wearing his regulation low-slung towel and nothing else as he sat in front of Avery, watching her every move as she scooped up the delicious omelet he’d made. Nervous from his unwavering attention, she licked her lips. Jase’s mouth dropped open, his dark brown eyes trained on the tip of her tongue. She repeated the same lick on her bottom lip, more slowly.

  Aroused awareness buzzed through Avery. She rolled her neck and arched her back. Then she blushed, as timid as a schoolgirl, which was exactly what she was. A shy college co-ed with a cruel, cruel secret she couldn’t confess to anyone, because she’d already tried that, only to be told she was a pathetic little liar.

  Pushing away the past she couldn’t change, Avery focused on Jase, a man she shouldn’t want. She had no interest in her free lay roommate. None. She was sure of it. Baskin Robbins 31 flavors? More like Frito Lay. She giggled as she sipped from her cup of coffee, rich and dark from the beans he ground every morning first thing.

  Setting his fork down, Jase elbowed his empty plate aside to put his joined hands on the table. That simple smooth move brought him several inches closer to her face.

  “Is something funny, Ave?”

  She gulped a little too quickly on the hot java. “No,” she choked out, eyes falling to the fluffy remains of her breakfast and the last bite of toast on her plate.

  “I don’t think so either. You know . . .” He crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair. His biceps bulged, his pecs tensed, and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth before letting it pop back out. “I came all over my chest and belly last night after you left.” One hand drifted down to rub the swath of tan skin and brown hair on his bare chest . . . all the way to the loose knot of the towel where the hair thickened.

  Heat prickled Avery’s skin and her mouth opened for a shaky breath. It pushed her breasts against the thin cloth of her top, and Jase hummed, “Nice tits.”

  Her nipples pearled to attention. “Jase—”

  His voice smoldered from across the table. “So I was thinking. I help you out every morning.” He waved a hand around the kitchen then stood with fingers slowly loosening the towel around his waist. “Maybe you could help me out, every night.”

  She shook her head but remained seated and still, waiting to see what he’d do next.

  His fingers unclenched, the towel barely held in place. Walking toward her, he hunkered down. The towel parted between his strong thighs, revealing a muscular landscape she wanted to explore.

  “A little arrangement, Ave, that’s all I’m talkin’ about. Is that sweet pussy wet for me?”

  “No.” Urgency and arousal dripped into her voice no matter how desperate she was to deny it.

  “I bet it is.” A dimple dove into his cheek with his gorgeous smile. “I bet it is,” he repeated, sliding away. Turning his back, he started running the water in the sink. “But that’s okay, the lease is for another six months and I like a challenge.”

  “Great, hoss, that’s just great. We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Nicky pushed up from the bed, plucked the book from my fingers, and tossed it beside the TV. “I’ll take you to a strip joint, let you get your rocks off there.”

  “I don’t want a strip joint.”

  “Yeah, I got that. You want Leelee friggin’ Songchild.” Flipping my fedora to me, Nicky held open the door to our room, hurrying me out.

  I swatted his ass as I strode past. “Nah. I just want you, babe.”

  ****

  The whorehouse-princess castle vibe was in full swing when we hit the lobby, only this time it was more dimmed lights, fake smoke, and speakeasy.

  A squawking call went up from amid the overflowing chairs and sofas care of Jacqueline, who stood on top of a couch. “It’s Nicky Love and Stone!”

  I dipped my hat in her direction, murmuring to my beau, “What’s with the glad rags?”

  “They’re videoing the flash-mob tonight.” He one-finger waved at a behemoth male cover model dressed in a zoot suit being mobbed by a bunch of groupies.

  “Flash-what?”

  “It’s a scene videoed with the Con attendees. It goes on the LitLuv website and YouTube, showcasing this year’s theme.”

  I took in the feathers, beads, headbands, and sharp suits all around. “Roaring Twenties?”

  “RAWRing Twenties,” Nicky said before being enclosed in one of Janice’s hugs that usually turned into full-on manhandling.

  Jacqueline and Missy pulled me between them, but Leelee was missing. I scanned the party crowd looking for her, locking onto LaForge instead. He salivated over a group of readers, distinct with their red lanyards. Ignoring the ridiculous ache in my chest over Leelee’s absence, I scarfed down several slices of pizza Missy plated up from the box in the middle of the table. I chased it with a red Solo cup of wine that made my taste buds burn. But who was I to complain, it was alcohol, and it was free.

  The congested room quickly heated to inferno level. I stood to lose my jacket and threw it over a sofa. Preparing for a long, hot night, I pulled loose the tie Nicky had so meticulously knotted, rolled my sleeves up my forearms, and dipped the fedora farther over my right eye.

  “Oh holy hell,” Jackée breathed.

  “Oh holy Stone!” Janice elbowed between her friends. “Back off, bitches.” She scanned me from hat to toe, fumbling in a hemp bag that crossed over her chest. Tonight she was back to her John Lennon shades, this time tinted purple.

  She pulled out her cell phone and caught me staring at the glasses. “Purple, as a reminder against purple prose.”

  “Huh?”

  She buttoned my lips between two fingers, and I flailed for a second. “Shh. You don’t need to worry about it, big bad beautiful man. It’s a writer thing.” Releasing my lips, Janice twirled a finger in the air. “Now, turn around for me.”

  I pivoted before I thought better of it then rolled my eyes when I heard giggles from the girls behind me and the click of cameras.

  “Soooo hot.”

  “Le sigh.”

  “I’d die for a bite of that butt.”

  I recognized the last as Peachtree, and my now fully admired rump clamped tight as I spun around. Janice frantically tap-tap-tapped into her phone.

  “Y’all are tweeting my ass?”

  “Technically, I don’t tweet.” Missy hovered behind Janice who had dropped into a chair. Dressed in a silvery gray flapper dress with long strands of pearls, of course, she slapped a riding crop—or whipping crop, depending on how you looked at it, fucking semantics again—against her hip, probably just to watch me shudder. “I get other people to do it for me.”

  I pressed my palms onto the table, unwittingly giving a great view of my backside to a bunch of brazen women behind me. More smart phones started clicking on my posterior. Posterior? Fucking hell.

  “His gorgeous glutes are going viral!” Janice showed her phone around.

  “Meat market,” Nicky murmured. Grabbing my hand, he whirled me around and into a dip, his hazy, evening sky eyes dancing above me. “Aren’t you glad you’re off the menu, darlin’?”

  There were more claps, more camera flashes. I fought with my dominant side, willing myself to remain docile in Nicky’s arms.

&
nbsp; “As long as you don’t drop me, partner,” I drawled.

  A young woman marched over as I straightened up. She wore a white feather boa, a scarlet smile, and held a light meter in her hand. “Bravo! Bravo! Fantastic chemistry! Can you do that when we film the scene? A leetle more UST, yes?” She made a square out of her fingers with us inside the box. Backing off, she talked into the mic headgeared beside her mouth.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked.

  “Jules Gem. She scripts this shit all year long. Don’t mess with her. She’ll cut your gonads off and send them home to Gigi in a gingham-wrapped package.”

  And here I thought that was Missy Peachtree’s job.

  He tugged me back to the circle of sofas where I squeezed between Jacqueline and Janice. All dolled up in beaded ivory, Jacqueline’s mocha-colored skin contrasted with her dress. She turned slightly away to chat with a newcomer. Janice, on the other side, took the opportunity to run her fingers up my thigh.

  I dipped the hat even lower over my eyes while I gently dislodged her hand from my leg with a tender there-there nowhere near my groin pat. As the huge lobby grew even more packed, I scoped the area from time to time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Leelee. The talk around me ranged from tweets and texts to something called Pinterest as we watched Jules Gem finalize her staging. When the conversation turned to shop talk—not the greasy, dirty garage shop talk I was used to—but New Adult, Romantica, Regency, and something called mm mmm, I gave up being subtle to stare unblinkingly at the elevators across the lobby.

  When I turned back to the group to answer a question from Nicky that sounded like wah wah wah in my ears, I caught sight of a woman crossing the room. A pair of long shapely legs in fishnet stockings ending in spiky black heels filled my vision. I followed the clinging jet-black dress to curvy hips, full breasts, a pouty red mouth . . . and a razor-sharp, midnight black bob. The girl was stacked. Now not only did I feel like I was being unfaithful to Nicky, I was cheating on Leelee, too.

  Diving into the brightest green eyes as the woman slinked in front of me, I finally recognized Leelee. She wore one of the many wigs that had spilled from her luggage at check-in. I did a double take and came back for a third round. She looked vampish, not in an Elvira way but in a fuck-hot film noir Hollywood way. All the blood in my body took a southern route to my cock.

  I immediately stood up and took off my hat. Ma had instilled southern manners in me from the get-go, and even though I was beginning to see myself as the manwhore my reputation made me out to be, this woman deserved to be treated like a lady. It all came back to me in an instant.

  “Leelee, you look exquisite.”

  She blushed, the sweet pink color painting her cheeks. She kissed me to the side of my mouth, words heating against my skin. “My, Stone, don’t you look rakish.”

  And the gawker-geese sighed altogether, “Swoon.”

  “Tweeted and Facebooked,” Janice chirped.

  Janice and Co. were cut short when Jules Gem started shouting. She could’ve stood on a table to be seen like everyone else did, but instead she’d been lifted onto the shoulders of two Coverdales.

  Her boa flapped and her gums flapped too from behind a true-blue bullhorn. “Okay, kids! You have your instructions, yes? Make our viewers and friends who can’t be here feel the vibe. This is our rendition of the RAWRing Twenties. The first dance is the Charleston, so step lively. Then we’ll switch partners for the tango and canoodling. This is going out live, so I’ll signal the change like this.” She twirled a finger in the air just like Janice had to get a better view of my ass. “You can’t look at me, because that would kill the scene, but you must pay attention to me at all times. Capiche?”

  Thankfully, she shut the hell up and started a countdown with her fingers. 3, 2, 1 then she whispered . . . through the megaphone, “And action.”

  Big band music blasted out of the speakers, and Nicky spun me into the middle of the floor.

  I stifled a laugh. “You’re leading?”

  “For a change, Butch.”

  We shuffled next to one another, grinning when the oboe cued in. The Charleston for two men from Charleston was a cakewalk. We had it in the bag, not that it was a contest but my be-the-best competitive streak wasn’t something I could turn off, unless it was be-the-best boyfriend material.

  Keeping up with the fast moves, we had little time to exchange barbs especially with Jules targeting us with the camera. The quicker we danced, the harder we smiled. Whistles and claps joined the music.

  The song ending, Nicky performed his back dip move on me again. I clung to him in hopes he didn’t marble-floor my ass. It probably looked like I loved this shit. The ladies certainly ate it up.

  “OMG! I want to be in the middle of that Manwich!” Someone squealed from the background.

  Nicky took me out of the back dive, his shoulders jerking with laughter.

  Janice was right next to us, hair and glasses askew, mouthing and pointing at her cell, “Trending now!”

  Jesus Christ, Javier had met his match. I was gonna make sure the two of them were never in the same fricking room together.

  “Nice moves, Nicky.” I ran my hand around his waist, just happy we hadn’t been made to kiss for the camera.

  “I learned from the best.” He knocked against my shoulder.

  Like me, Nicky had gotten a crash course in manners, mechanics, and cutting a rug from my parents. When his well-to-do, devil-may-care parents had decided they’d had enough of childrearing as soon as he hit sixteen, they Euro-toured it. They left him on his mimi’s lowcountry doorstep and he’d become an instant Stone adoptee.

  Jules Gem swirled her finger in the air, and it was time for the switch up. I located Leelee, struggling in LaForge’s clutches. I did not want her tangling with him during the tango, especially since megaphone-mouth had added canoodling to the mix.

  I waved off Janice, Missy, Jacqueline. I pushed through the crowd, intent on Leelee alone. The music started: hot, fast, and sensual. LaForge had his hands all over her, and I was two Latin dance steps away from wrapping my fingers around his windpipe. Coming up behind him, I trapped his foot with my leg. I twisted his jacket down his arms—with flair—and pushed him onto his knees. Splatting him face first to the floor with my hand to the back of his skull, I stepped over him.

  It was all part of the dance, right? “Oops, my bad.”

  My hips moving in time to the music, I approached Leelee. Her horror from the moment before faded into a hesitant smile.

  “May I have this dance?” I offered her my hand.

  Her fingers laced between mine. “I’d be delighted.”

  We danced through the seductive arrangement, liquid as water, hot as fire. With Leelee’s back to my front, my lips lingered too close to her bare shoulder. Her hips guided me against her bottom. Swiveling around, she flicked her dangerous heels between and behind my feet, matching every single one of my moves with a sinful come-hither combination of her own. Her eyes sparkled. A teasing smile canted her mouth.

  I whipped her around on my hip, the slit of her dress parting up her thigh. My hand skimmed her sleek leg until I met soft bare flesh above the thigh-high fishnets. When her neck dropped back, my mouth was there. A solid shock went through me, an electric current racing to my cock. Slanted against me, Leelee slid down my thigh all the way to the floor.

  I’d watched my folks dance so many nights, the kitchen table shoved out of the way, my dad singing in low tones as they swept around the room. I’d seen their connection but had never felt the same myself. Not with Claire, not with my Friday night babes. Leelee sang to every single part of me until my body felt singed with fire and all my thoughts revolved around her.

  When she ran her palms up my arms and over my shoulders, I held her closer. “Maybe you should think about filing a complaint against LaForge.”

  She shook her head. She kept her face hidden against my throat until I tipped her chin up, spanning my fingers over her cheek as t
he song stampeded around us. The fear in her eyes unnerved me.

  “Why not?”

  “He has too many connections. As a pro he could ruin me overnight, and I’m just getting up to speed with my career.”

  “I don’t like the idea of him sleazing all over you,” I gritted out.

  “I’m a big girl, Stone. And you said it yourself, you’re nobody’s knight in—”

  Anger and shame boiled over inside me. “I know what I said, and I was a dick.”

  “No one’s been there for me before, Patrick never was.” Her fingertips skimmed my neck, spurring reckless need.

  “He’s a dick too.” I spun her a few times, getting a contact high off her giggle.

  The provocative song continued. Tight steps, smoldering looks. I bowed her back, pivoted her to me. She knew the rhythm as well as I did.

  Fingers filtering through the short strands of her hair, I tugged Leelee to me. “You almost had me fooled with this.”

  “Did I?” she flirted.

  “Yeah, but I prefer you red.” I looked from her enchanting eyes all the way down her body to the killer heels.

  “Why, Stone, I didn’t think you were into the guy-girl thing.” Her light laugh tensed all the muscles in my groin until they were taut enough to snap.

  Leelee’s gyrating hips were about three inches away from finding out just how much I was into the guy-girl thing. How much I was into her. My grip became tighter on her hand and waist.

  She rode up from a low roll all along my leg, snapping her heel, tilting her head . . . and I was dead. Everyone else in the room disappeared. I deepened my stance before running my lips alongside her mouth. Our breath met. Our lips opened. The temptation too great, I twirled her away.

  Some drunk fuck blundered into us, shoving us together. The near-miss kiss became a hot mesh of mouths. Canoodle? Hot arousal pounded through me when I tasted Leelee’s lips on mine. I grabbed her ass and dove into her mouth, practically mounting her on a table.

  “Aaaaand cut!” Jules called out just when my erection was about to detonate.

  Leelee broke our kiss with a stunned look. “What was that, Stone? You’re gay!” She pushed me away from her. “It’s just for promotions, right?”