Cherry Creek

by Dani Matthews

  Harper rises lazily to his feet, and he holds out a hand as he flashes me a sexy smile. “Nice to meet you,” he says as his eyes drift over me with open interest.

  He's tall...and incredibly alluring. I feel that weird pull again, and I find myself looking him over and wondering what he looks like without his clothes.

  Roman stalks over and slams a hand into his friend's shoulder. “Fucking turn it down, you ass.”

  Harper grimaces, rubbing his shoulder. Tatum snickers while Nathan just shakes his head. Harper turns his attention back to me and gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  I stare at him blankly. What is he apologizing for?

  Tatum rolls her eyes and gracefully rises to her feet while she gives Roman a look. “I'm getting drinks,” she says pointedly.

  Roman nods, slipping an arm around me and leading me away from Harper and Nathan. My body seems to be on high alert tonight, and the feel of his warm body brushing against mine has my belly quivering. Holy hell. I need to find a way to control this attraction, or I’m going to make a fool out of myself.

  When we approach the balcony, his arm drops from around me, and I’m relieved. We stand before a pane of clear glass as high as my waist that keeps us safely ensconced on the upper level. “There. Now, what do you think?” he asks as he turns to me, waiting for my reply.

  I can't help but stare in awe at what’s in front of me. The club is huge, and the dance floor is packed with gyrating bodies. I see that there are three bars in the club, and they are all on the lower level against each wall. I also note that there are several other private balconies. There also seems to be one large one at the very end of the room on the second level. Instead of just a wall behind the balcony, there are some glass windows. I'm guessing it's either a security office or Khristos's office. I point at it and look at Roman who's still waiting for my reaction. “What is that over there?” I ask loudly over the pounding music.

  Roman’s eyes follow my pointing finger. “Khristos's office.”

  I pull my attention from the club and focus on Roman as lights dance across his handsome features. “Why do you call him Khristos?”

  “Because that's his name,” he says as his lip tilts up in the corner.

  “I know that,” I say as I roll my eyes. “I'm asking why you don't call him Dad.”

  He shrugs. “I just don't.”

  I let it go and turn my attention back to the club below. This is the first time I've been in one, and I can't deny that I'm excited. The atmosphere is unlike anything I've ever experienced.

  “Feel like dancing yet?” Roman asks in my ear, and his breath tickles the fine hairs there, almost causing me to shiver.

  Dance? I shake my head at him and pull back slightly, desperate for some space. Is he even aware of the effect he has on me? I know sometimes he knows it, but sometimes it seems like he’s not even conscious of it. “I don't think so.” Dancing with Roman will just lead to bad, bad things. Embarrassing things.

  He just laughs and nods back towards the couch. “Come have a drink while you work up the courage to let loose and have some fun,” he teases.

  I allow him to escort me back to the long couch, and I see that there are several glasses sitting on the table. Tatum is back, and she's handing out mixed drinks and beers. Roman motions for me to sit down near Nathan, who is the closest to me, and I cautiously sit. I'm still annoyed with him for trying to kiss me in the kitchen.

  “Here,” Tatum says over the music as she holds a glass out to me. It's filled with a red liquid and ice cubes. “Roman warned me you probably wouldn't want anything alcoholic, so I got you something super light,” she informs.

  “Thanks,” I say as I accept the drink. I'm not about to trust her, so I hold the drink but don't bother to sip it.

  Roman, who's still standing by the couch rather than sitting, lifts a beer bottle up. “Let's toast to Vee's first time at Bane,” he suggests.

  The others immediately lift their drinks. Seeing as I don't have any other choice, I lift my glass as well, and when everyone takes a drink, I cautiously sip from the cup. Whatever Tatum has given me is pretty good. It tastes sweet and fruity.

  “Like it?” Tatum asks me as she smiles slightly.

  “It's good,” I agree.

  She nods and sets her cup down. “I'm out for a bit.” She turns to Harper. “Dance?”

  He shrugs a shoulder. “Sure, why not.” He drains his beer as he rises to his feet. As the two of them walk away, I catch sight of Harper grabbing Tatum's butt as they descend the stairs.

  I look at Roman questioningly. “Are they dating?”

  “Not exactly,” he says as he ambles over to the other side of the couch. He sinks down and reclines back slightly, looking lazy and bored.

  I have a feeling he'd rather be out on the dance floor or with some pretty girl instead of sitting up here. It dawns on me that he's babysitting me. It's not like I want to be on my own or anything, but I don't want to kill the mood, either. If he's not having fun, I'm not going to have fun. “Roman?” He looks at me questioningly. I wave a hand towards the club. “Go do your thing. I'm not going to have any fun if you're babysitting me.”

  He studies me for a minute. “I don't really consider keeping an eye on you babysitting.”

  “Well, it's going to get old real fast. Go do something. If I need anything, I'll let you know.”

  Roman's eyes slide to Nathan briefly before shifting back to me. “You sure?”

  The fact that he didn't jump at my original offer has me liking him a little bit more. Just a teensy bit. “Go.”

  He nods, and then he's gone.

  I look at Nathan for the first time since we'd arrived. He looks really good in a form fitting shirt and jeans. He actually looks a bit uncomfortable, which puts me at ease. “You too. I can fend for myself,” I tell him.

  “Nah, I'm good,” he tells me as he stretches out his long legs as far as the glass table will allow. “I'll go dance in a bit.”

  I give him a pointed look. “You and I are not happening. If that's why you're sticking around, it's a lost cause. I'm not into you,” I can’t help but say bluntly. I don’t want there to be any miscommunications tonight.

  He grins at me, not the slightest bit offended by my rudeness. “I'm not in the mood to get rejected twice. But if you change your mind, I'm right here,” he says, waving a hand at his body.

  “Not. Happening.” I rise to my feet and walk back over to the balcony as I sip my drink. I can feel Nathan's eyes burning into me, more likely my butt than anything else, and I scan the club and look for the others. There's just so many people here that it's impossible to make out one single person. I give up on searching for them, and instead, I listen to the music and enjoy the atmosphere.

  After a while, I feel myself relaxing. The music calls to me and as I stand on the balcony, watching the others dance, my body sways slightly in time to the beat. I'm wishing I was down there.

  “You want to go dance, Livvy?” Nathan asks from behind me.

  I turn and look at him. I can't help but admire how cute he is. He's tall, muscular, and very yummy. I blink. Yummy? Where did that come from? I've never thought of anyone as yummy before, not even Brad.

  “Want to go dance?” he repeats.

  “Sure.” Why not? Dancing looks fun.

  He plucks my empty glass out of my hands and walks away to set it on the glass table. He comes back to me and holds out a hand. Before I can think better of it, I move towards him and readily slip my hand in his. He leads me down the stairs and shields me with his body as we make our way through the packed crowd. As we head towards the dance floor, I spy more couches sporadically placed throughout the club. My thoughts on the club décor disappear as Nathan sweeps me out onto the dance floor.

  I'm in a weird mood, and it doesn't take much for me to start dancing to the music. Nathan dances in front of me, matching my movements. He's not too bad. At least I don't think so. I've never gone to any parties b
efore or anything that involves dancing to music, so this is all new to me.

  As we dance song after song, Nathan seems to be getting closer and closer to me. By the time his hands settle on my hips, and his body brushes mine, I'm thrilled with getting closer to him. I don't know why I'm okay with getting close to him now—when I wasn't in the kitchen, but for some reason he seems more attractive tonight. I'm not in the mood to fight it. I smile up at him as our bodies brush against one another. My eyes drift to his chest, and I wonder how it would feel. Would he let me touch him? Would I let him touch me?

  My face must betray my thoughts, because Nathan moves closer, his head lowering to mine deliberately. I can't wait to feel his lips on mine, so I tilt my head back. Right before his lips touch mine, reality crashes in. I pull away abruptly. What the hell? Why do I suddenly feel the need to be with him? Why do I want him so badly?

  This is wrong.

  “Excuse me,” I mumble before I dart away from him and make my way through the dancing bodies. I get bumped and jostled here and there, but I barely notice.

  It takes me five minutes of walking around before I spy the restrooms. I go inside, feeling slightly overheated. I walk over to a sink and run cold water over my hands. I feel confused. My mind feels jumbled, and my limbs feel kind of heavy. Am I drunk or something? I've never been drunk before. Had Tatum lied about that drink? I should have known!

  I think I want to go back to the mansion before I do something stupid. Like kiss Nathan. Or worse. And even as I think of him, my body grows heated again, and I feel a hint of longing. Okay, that's not normal. At least not for me. I grab some paper towel and dry my hands as I lecture myself on all the reasons I should stay away from guys, especially Nathan. Think of Brad, I tell myself as I leave the bathroom.

  When I re-enter the club, there's a darkened corner along the wall, and I walk over and try to pull myself together. I'll go outside and get a cab. That sounds like a good plan to me. I'm just deciding to walk away when two guys walk up, blocking my way. I look up at them warily, because they're both much taller than me, even in my heels. The thing that worries me the most about them is they both look a little rough around the edges, and they reek of beer.

  “Hey, pretty girl. Lookin' for some fun?” The one with the pudgy belly walks closer to me, his eyes roaming over me appreciatively.

  A hint of uneasiness sweeps through me. “I have friends waiting for me,” I say stiffly as I try to walk past them. The other one reaches out and slips an arm around my waist, drawing me up against his body. This guy is more muscular, and he's kind of cute. My body flares to life, and I'm horrified. “Let me go!” I say as I struggle against him, even though my body has other things in mind. I want to rub up against him, and I can barely stop myself from doing so. Tears sting my eyes, and I feel humiliation rising within me. What is wrong with me?

  “Let her go. Now.”

  My head jerks up, and I see Trace standing before me.

  He looks pissed, and his gray eyes are focused on the man holding me against his body. “I said let her go, or you and I are going to go outside and have ourselves a little conversation.”

  “Let her go,” the guy with the pudgy belly mutters.

  I'm abruptly released, and I feel myself wilt back against the wall, my heart thudding out of control with relief. It thunders in my ears so loudly that I don't hear whatever Trace says to them, but whatever it is, it sends both guys rushing off into the crowd.

  Trace's face appears before mine, his eyes concerned. “Did they touch you?”

  Tears immediately well up in my eyes as I remember how I'd wanted the guy who had held me prisoner against his body.

  Trace mutters an expletive. “I know you're upset, but you need to pull yourself together until I can get you out of here. Khristos will have his men on you in a heartbeat if he thinks something bad went down, and the last thing you need is trouble your first night at the club.”

  I nod and wipe at a stray tear.

  “We'll go out the back exit. Just look bored, like you're ready to go home. No one will think anything of it if they see you leaving. I'm sure Roman twisted your arm to get you here tonight, right?”

  A smile creeps across my lips. “You all know me so well.”

  “Well, you've made it pretty clear you like to do your own thing. Feeling better?” he asks as he studies me.

  “Let's go,” I say with a slight nod.

  Trace leads me out of the club through the back exit, and no one seems to notice. His SUV is parked in a private parking lot near an alley, and we briskly walk over to it. The second I sit down in the passenger seat of his SUV, I collapse and shut my eyes as I try to process the past few hours.

  “Did they touch you inappropriately, Livvy? Because if they did, you need to stay here while I take care of them,” Trace says, his voice low and controlled, but I can still hear the anger in it.

  I turn my head and look at him. “How would you take care of them?”

  “That's not for you to worry about.”

  My eyes roam over his face, and I see something in his expression I've never seen before. Violence. Slowly, I shake my head. “They didn't touch me.”

  Trace studies me for a long moment as if reassuring himself that I'm telling the truth. Finally, he turns his attention to the vehicle and starts it up. “How were you enjoying the night before things went bad? Do you like the club?” he asks as we back out of the parking lot.

  I have a feeling he's trying to keep me from dwelling over the incident. “I do like it. I've never been to one before.”

  Trace nods as he turns on the blinker and waits for a break in traffic before pulling out of the club's private parking lot. “I get the feeling that everything about Cherry Creek is new to you.”

  “It is.”

  We both fall silent, and Trace must sense I'm not in the mood to talk, because he reaches out and turns on the radio. A rock station begins playing softly in the quietness of the car. As Trace takes me back to Cherry Creek, I stare out my window. What had gotten into me tonight? Why would I ever find a guy that was physically aggressive, attractive? I don't understand it. It dawns on me that the world seems a little hazy to me, and I'm still feeling quite relaxed. I guess I'm drunk. That had been my first thought earlier, and nothing else can explain my strange behavior. Looks like I learned something new tonight that I should have already known. Never trust Tatum.

  I must have zoned out, because next thing I know, Trace is pulling right up to the front mansion doors. I peer out the window and see that the place seems to be dark.

  Trace cuts the engine. “I'll walk you in and help you get settled.”

  We climb out, and Trace walks beside me as we approach the doors. I'm conscious of his body next to mine, and I can feel that weird feeling sweeping through me again. My body is warming in places that aren’t usually so quick to perk up. At least not by simply being near an attractive guy. I try to ignore it as I watch Trace open the door for me. He politely stands there, waiting for me to enter first.

  I step forward, frowning slightly. “Khristos doesn't lock the doors when he's gone?”

  “No point. There's a locked gate at the front entrance, remember?”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense,” I say as my heels click loudly on the hard floor. It's dark, and for some reason I trip over my own feet. I start to fall, but then strong arms wrap around me tightly, pulling me upright and against a hard, toned body. My body literally goes on high alert, and suddenly I want him. I want him so badly. The need that I feel is impossible to ignore, because I’m craving Trace like I need air to breathe.

  “You okay?” Trace asks as he frowns down at me in the shadowed foyer, not letting me go.

  I reach up and frame his face with my hands, tugging him down so my lips can press against his. His entire body stiffens up while excitement shoots through me as I taste him. I kiss him boldly, teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue. I want him to open up and let me in, so I push forwar
d against his chest to get closer and revel in his warmth pressing against my breasts. My teeth nip at his lower lip, demanding him to respond to me.

  Trace shudders against me, and then he gives me what I want. His lips part and he takes over the kiss. He angles his mouth over mine in a way that deepens the kiss, and I can’t help but whimper into his mouth. My hands leave his face to sink into his hair as his tongue explores my mouth. His own hands release my waist, and they slide up my back until one hand rests possessively against the back of my neck as his mouth works over mine.

  My body is on fire. Literally. I can't seem to get close enough. I want to do some exploring, so I shift my breasts away from his chest so my hands can roam freely. I love the feel of his muscles, and I rub my hand over his pectoral muscles as we devour each other. If anything, the feel of him seems to ignite this frenzy I feel even more. I want to feel his skin. As the kiss grows out of control, I grab his shirt and pull on it. He breaks away briefly, his breath rasping in the darkness as he rids of himself of his shirt before his hands settle on my waist. He presses my back against the wall and he pins me there, his lips back on mine as his hands slide down to run over the curves of my bottom. He yanks my hips up against his, and I can feel the rock-hard bulge in his jeans.

  I moan into his mouth as I grind against him. This feels so good, but it’s still not enough. I can't wait to feel him against me. Skin upon skin. I grab his belt buckle and quickly unfasten it. I feel Trace's hands grow impatient as he yanks up the hem of my dress. I expect him to rid me of my panties as I yank the belt out of the loops of his jeans so I can unfasten the top button, but instead, he goes completely still against me.

  One minute I'm working to free him of his jeans, and the next, Trace is yanking my hem back down over my hips, and he's physically pushing me away from him. I stumble back slightly and sway. I can't see his expression, but I peer at him with puzzlement anyway. Why are we stopping? “What's wrong?” I ask breathlessly.