Drawn to Him: A Romance Collection

by Willow Winters

  She eyes me, a little embarrassed. A lot smug.

  Oh, baby. Game on is right. But I’m the gamemaster, not you. I’m the rule maker, the director, and the enforcer. Basically, I’m God.

  Will returns and, with a curse, sits heavily back in his seat. “They a thing?” I ask, nodding in the direction of Saine and Riverdale.

  He grunts. “I wish.”

  I clamp my teeth together so hard I’m sure he heard. “Why do you say that?”

  “Why do you care?”

  I don’t look at him. I keep watching her, not sure how much longer I can pretend I don’t want every shred of her, and I know…I know if I turn to him in this moment, he will not mistake the lust burning in my soul for his baby sister. “Just making conversation, Will.”

  The hell I am.

  Saine picks up a bottle of water, and it slips through her fingers to the floor. She bends at the waist to pick it up and I, along with the rest of the club, get a birds-eye view of those wicked panties before she realizes her mistake and pops straight up. Throwing a glance over her shoulder she catches me gawking at her, and I don’t even pretend I’m not stone cold hard.

  Her eyes warm in want. It’s clear even from twenty feet away.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, needing relief in the worst fucking way right now. Her mouth, the valley between her tits, or hell, at this point even my own palm would make do.

  “She’s off limits,” Will warns me in his baddest big brother voice.

  The fuck she is. But whatever.

  I turn to look at him after I‘m sure I’m composed. “Who?”

  “My sister.”

  “Who says I want your sister?” I feign.

  His stare drops to the bulge in my pants. I just shrug.

  “I mean it, Montgomery. You may be my partner, but she’s my sister, and you don’t touch her. She’s already had one…”

  “One, what?” I prod when he doesn’t finish.

  He just shakes his head and diverts. It pisses me off, but I play his game because if we continue talking about his sister, I will be making it very clear that I plan on doing far more than just touching her. I plan to corrupt her in countless ways while I work on making her my wife.

  “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?” I parrot, drumming my fingers on the table beside me.

  “Yeah. I’ve never seen you with a woman. Ever.”

  That’s because the only one I want hates my fucking guts right now. I decide to honest, but vague in my response. “The one I wanted got away.”

  He contemplates that for only a second. “Then maybe you should go get her back.”

  “If only it were that easy,” I blurt without thinking. There are so many complications, the least of which is that I have kept my identity a secret for six months. And, yeah, let’s not forget she hates my fucking guts.

  His eyes dart to Ebony, sticking to her. “I think sometimes we make things too hard for ourselves. You just need to grab the bull by the horns and wrangle the fucker to the ground.”

  I laugh. “So you’re telling me to just go after this woman. Wrangle her to the ground. No matter what.”

  His gaze comes back to mine. “If she’s the one, then yes. You should fight for her with everything in you.”

  These are words Will Campbell will probably regret saying since the woman I’ll be fighting for is his sister, but he couldn’t be more spot-on. I’ve been a dick. It’s time to remedy that.

  “So you didn’t know any of this?” he asks.

  “Any of what?” I reply, my brows scrunched inward.

  “About Saine and her ex-fiancé? That he’s…”

  At that exact moment, the rift of two guitars and the snare of drums kick through the air, cutting off whatever Will was about to tell me. “There’s something you should know,” he yells over the three decibels now bleating from the speakers.

  “We’ll talk later,” I mouth, not wanting to miss a single second of the woman about to captivate every person in The Revelry. He looks as though he wants to argue but I’m done with this conversation.

  Pouring myself a fresh glass of champagne, I turn my attention to the front of the club and settle in for a long night of watching Saine Campbell drop every man in this place to his knees, each of them wishing she was his, me included.

  But I’m the only man who will have her. I will have her tonight and every day and night hereafter. And it’s more than just her body I want. I want it all.

  Her heart.

  Her devotion.

  Most importantly, her love.

  My approach has been all wrong. I should have gone after her the second she crossed my line of sight again. I didn’t but I’m rectifying that. Now. Tonight.

  I’m done playing around, her brother’s objections be damned.

  Saine Campbell will be mine.

  CHAPTER 4

  Saine

  Heat licked my nipples the entire walk to the kitchen. His penetrating stare seared into the backs of my legs and the place between my thighs, which now throbs relentlessly. By the time I rounded the corner out of his sight, my knees were jelly, and I had to lean against the kitchen wall until I could take another step without them buckling.

  Catching my wits, I close my eyes and take deep breaths, hoping to drag a much-needed dose of clarity into my lungs and mind, but it’s fruitless. Whenever his eyes are on me, it’s like a lightning strike.

  Brutally sharp.

  Heart stopping.

  Mesmerizing. Intense.

  Nature at the peak of its power.

  He’s crawled under my skin but good. If I’m honest, he’s been there since the second I stood in front of him and auditioned. There is just something about him I can’t put my finger on. As if he sees me in a way others don’t.

  Why do I feel as though he was testing me, has been testing me all this time, or that he already knows me intimately? Why does that jerk make me feel things I haven’t felt in years? Like I’m wanted. Like I have a burning thirst that may never be quenched. And why, oh why does he feel so damn familiar?

  My mind rewinds to the champagne—specifically the brand—he casually sipped while watching me like a hawk. As if checking for a reaction. Memories of bubbles dancing on my skin sent blazing currents of need zipping through me, and I had to work overtime to catch runaway thoughts.

  Hot, soft lips traveling greedily over my flesh.

  Talented fingers curving inside me, drawing moan after agonizing moan.

  A thick cock that stretched and took and owned.

  Coconut brown eyes I had a hard time not falling into.

  Coconut brown eyes…

  Coconut…

  Oh. Shit.

  My stomach cinches up, twisting into pretzels. “No…it can’t be,” I whisper to myself. “Can it?”

  I stand there, heart pounding. Mind whirling. A night I haven’t forgotten playing in slow, perfect clips.

  “No…”

  While there is no denying I could wade into Bennett Montgomery’s bottomless eyes, which are eerily similar to ones from my one-night stand of several years ago, if he was the sexy stranger who took me on a ride I still fantasize about when I fall asleep, surely he would have said something before now, right?

  Right?

  Right. Of course he would have, Saine. His arrogant ass wouldn’t have been able to help it. But still…the way he looked at me…as if he’s seen me naked and tasted my release mixed with Moet champagne…

  Whew. It’s suddenly stifling in here, isn’t it? I pluck at my blouse to get some air moving.

  “Everything okay, Saine?” Wally, our sous chef who looks like he spends all his free time on a surfboard, though there aren’t any wakes in suburbia, Illinois, asks me. “You look flushed.”

  Good God, get a grip, Saine.

  “Uh, yeah. Fine,” I mumble. Pushing myself from the wall, I shake these ridiculous thoughts right out of my head.

  No. There is no way Bennett Mon
tgomery is the man who brought me back from the ledge of despair four years ago. The same man who showed me I deserved better than my cheat of an ex. That I was worthy, wanted, adored. That man was attentive and passionate. Observing. Not cold and unfeeling.

  “You’re insane,” I tell myself. “It’s not him.”

  If it were, I would know it.

  By the time I catch up with Ian, Len and Tudor, our drummer and guitarist, I feel marginally better. I don’t know why familiarity worms its way through me whenever I share the same air with him, but I don’t like it. Bennett Montgomery has thoroughly and completely messed me up.

  “Remember what he did,” I tell myself, and just like that the fire of indignation flares up again, stifling and unwieldy.

  That arrogant jackass thinks he’s one-upped me. Well, think again, Montgomery.

  Think.

  Again.

  “You guys down for shaking things up a bit tonight,” I ask. Grabbing my hummingbird stickpin, which has become my good luck charm, I shove it carelessly through the fabric over my left breast, cursing when I stab myself. I weave it back through a layer of silk and slip the stopper on the end, holding it in place.

  “What do you mean shake it up?” Tudor brings an empty beer bottle to his mouth and spits the remnants of his chew in it.

  “Take my cues on the set list?” I reply evenly as if my heart isn’t beating out of my chest at what I’m about to do.

  “Saine.” Ian’s voice vibrates in warning.

  I shoot him a glare. He knows me too damn well.

  “You mean wing it?” Len chimes in, brows curled in confusion. I don’t wing. I plan. I practice. I perfect.

  I shrug, though anxiousness crawls over my flesh like bedbugs. “It’s not winging it. You know everything.”

  “Saine.”

  In a huff, I leave Ian’s rumbled, unwanted counsel in a heap on the floor behind me. I head to the stage, my mind spinning with song after song I intend to play in just the first set, my smile getting bigger and cockier the more my plan pieces itself together.

  The second I come from behind the curtain, though, I feel his eyes on me, rolling lazily over every contour, making me breathless. So breathless I start to get dizzy. I ignore him, or I attempt to because let’s get real. This man has had me off balance for months now.

  Ian picks up his Fender and picks a couple of strings, stopping to tune them. I know he’s watching me, too, the same as Montgomery, but I don’t want to listen to what he has to say, so I busy myself writing our new song list until I hear him call my name. When our eyes meet, he nods for me to come over, and I know with every step toward him I’m being stalked by my infuriating boss.

  I hate that heat washes slowly over me, starting at my scalp and working downward. I hate the warm flutters low in my belly. And I hate that I’m far too greedy to feel more of both. I remind myself I hate everything this man does to me so the second I stop in front of Ian another idea hits and I go with it.

  Bennett Montgomery may have been a prick of gigantic proportions a few minutes ago, for months, in fact, but there is one thing he couldn’t hide when I was standing in front of him, fumes billowing out of my ears.

  I replay the way he deliberately undressed me, achingly slow, peeling away layer after layer until my protective shroud dissolved into nothing and my soul was laid before him like a sacrifice in my very own hands.

  He wants me. He may not like me—and, um, by the way…ditto—but he wants to fuck the shit out of me anyway. Maybe that’s his problem. Maybe he’s as angry by his reaction to me as I am with mine to him.

  I can’t help but look out to the audience. When our gazes find each other and clash and he smirks this irritating smirk at me, I do the same, then I wrap an arm around Ian and almost laugh when I see the muscles in his jaw jump.

  Yeah. He wants me.

  “You sure this is a good idea, pissing him off like this?” Ian mutters. Oh, I’m pretty damn sure I’m pissing him off right now, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. My grin widens.

  I set my cheek to his and ask, “Let’s put on a good show, yeah?”

  He stiffens and wraps an arm around me, placing his hand on the small of my back. It’s a move he’s done hundreds of times with ease, but at my suggestion, he draws me into his hard body and grins like a schoolboy.

  “You want to use me to get to him? Is that it?”

  I study him for a few seconds. Is he angry? Jealous? I decide not. “The way you put that sentence together makes it sound bad,” I toss back lightly.

  His eyes narrow. His lips thin. “You sure you know what you’re doing, Saine?”

  No fucking clue.

  “Yes.”

  A mischievous grin returns, and he flexes a palm around my hip. “Maybe I should kiss you? Get him good and riled up?”

  I give him a swat. “It’s not like that.” I avert my gaze before he can spot the lies swimming laps on the surface.

  “Oh, but I think it is,” he says in his all-knowing, superior voice. He leans in, closing the space between us and just when I think he’s going to make good on that kiss, he brushes his lips on the tip of my nose, whispering, “Pot stirrer.”

  I twist out of his hold and can’t help but find my attention drawn to the audience again. Mr. Smug and Mighty cocks his head and quirks his mouth and I hope the look I give him is equivalent but, dammit, I don’t think it is. I am way, way out of my league here. My insides are vibrating in a warning to abandon this little mission of mine, yet I can’t make myself do it. I have a point to get across.

  So after sharing the first few songs with the band and a slight mishap with a water bottle, which may have included a humiliating expose of my panties to about one hundred fifty people, I raise my hand to give the cue.

  As the thrum of sticks snaps against the snare, a rush of adrenaline pushes its way through my blood, familiar and soothing. My eyes find those of Bennett Montgomery’s and they simmer in challenge. So do his.

  Game on, big boy.

  Game. On.

  Then I open my mouth and begin to belt out the raspy, biting words of In This Moment’s Big Bad Wolf, relishing in the shocked look on his cocky, striking face.

  Point: Saine.

  CHAPTER 5

  Saine

  “Stella?” Jamie asks as I tap my fingers restlessly on the smooth finish of the bar. It’s my usual drink of choice after we play, but not tonight. Tonight I need liquor. Dark, strong, nice high alcohol content. Something to take my mind off the fact that my plan to slither under Bennett Montgomery’s skin seems to have backfired completely.

  “Jack. Double.”

  A barbell-pierced brow raises a fraction. He runs a wet cloth along the wood in front of him. “Splash of water or soda with that?”

  The memory of Bennett’s shocked face morphing into a grin, then into a full-on laugh before I even started verse two of song one is still seared in my vision.

  “Straight.”

  “Ice?”

  Now it’s my turn to raise a brow. “Well, since ice melts into water, that would be a no.”

  He chuckles as his gaze floats over my shoulder and I don’t even have to turn around. I know who’s there by the tantalizing scent of spicy cologne drifting over my shoulder.

  “Funny. I always took you for a martini kind of woman, Ms. Campbell.”

  I gulp, memories pouring in like rain. Is this a second intentional reference to that night?

  No, no, no. It’s not him. This is only coincidence.

  “Beer is more my style,” I lie. I love martini’s but I’ve never had one here, preferring to stick to a couple of beers as the bar is closing down instead. “Make it fast,” I tell Jamie.

  “Sure thing, honey.” He winks and spins to fill my order.

  “Mmm. Dry, not dirty,” Bennett goes on. “Up. Top-shelf vodka with a splash of vermouth. Three olives that you use to stir but never eat.”

  My lungs constrict. How would he know that? How could
he know that?

  He’s playing with you. Guessing. That’s a standard recipe for a vodka martini, Saine. Everyone knows that. And who eats the olives? They’re for decorative purposes only, unless they’re stuffed with blue cheese, of course.

  “I’m afraid you don’t know me at all, Mr. Montgomery.” My rebuttal is thin and reedy, not full of the vitriol I’d wanted to poison him with, and with the low chuckle at my back the bastard knows it.

  I need to get myself out of this situation. Fast. I look to my left and to my right to see if I can spot Ian but, crap, he’s nowhere to be found, probably having already slinked off with the redhead at table six who was making eyes at him all night.

  Deciding I’m on my own, I shift backward, hoping he’ll take the hint and put a few fingers of air between us but a warm, oh so hard and unyielding body stops me short. Thick desire instantly congeals around us, intoxicating me with its headiness.

  God have mercy. My legs soften. I press my elbows into the bar for support and knot my hands together so I’m not tempted to reach back and map my way from his strong thighs upward to his thick—

  “Interesting performance tonight.” That dark, orgasm-inducing voice undulates right over my shoulder. Sweet mother of the blessed Mary, I go hot everywhere.

  “Thanks,” I reply curtly, hoping to hell Jamie hurries up before I turn around and either knee him in the balls or caress them until he bows to me. My breaths come faster now, and I reach up to wipe dots of sweat forming on my upper lip.

  “The paying customers seemed to enjoy it anyway.”

  I snort out a laugh. I want to demand that he admit he did, too, because he didn’t take his lustful eyes from me for a single second all night long, especially when I sang Halestorm’s I Get Off. But I glue my lips shut instead. One of the hardest things I’ve done in…ever.

  His hand slides beside me and grips the counter. Long, lithe, broad fingers that could make a woman scream for hours curl around the edge. This is cruel. I’m being tortured now. I know I am. I close my eyes to stamp out thoughts of them slowly feathering my clit or them sinking into my hair with such force it stings, but all I manage to do is multiply my senses by a million.