“Sounds fun.”
“I mean. I was running away from my mom’s death, so.”
Ah. That… that made me want to hold him and comfort him, but this really wasn’t the time or place. And I wasn’t sure if I could even do that sort of thing. Parker had made it clear he wanted me sexually, but would he welcome something more… comforting than that? Something more intimate emotionally?
Sometimes I thought that maybe he wanted that, but sometimes, other times, I wasn’t so sure. But why would he be so jealous of me otherwise? If you just wanted someone sexually but not in any other way, why bother being jealous?
Heat crawled up my spine at the memory of how protective he was just now. His hand on my lower back right now as we danced was like a brand. I wanted to push into it even harder, I wanted it to stay there forever. I didn’t ever want his hands off me. I wanted them to stay, I wanted him to stay, I wanted to stay with him.
It was a lot of emotion to be feeling just in the middle of a club on the dance floor. I shoved all of that emotion away from me, let it bleed out of my body, through my feet, pressed it into the floor with each stomp of my feet. I didn’t want to think about that right now. I wanted to just focus on how good it feels to be held by him, moved by him, the sole focus of his attention.
“You’re not so bad at this yourself,” Parker noted, his hands sliding down to my hips, guiding me back and forth, our bodies moving in sync. I could feel him getting half-hard through his pants, his cock pressing up between the ‘v’ of my thighs, making me wet.
“I have a good leader,” I pointed out. I knew the basics but the only reason I was able to do this dancing was because he was leading me so well.
Parker chuckled, and I looped my arms around his neck, pressing us even closer together. I could feel his chest stutter with a sharp intake of breath, and then his arm was completely around my waist, his thigh sliding between my legs, firm and wide, and I could feel myself melting from the inside out.
We weren’t properly dancing at this point, we were doing more of what the other people in the club were doing—rolling our hips, as good as grinding against each other, our faces inches apart, just about every part of our bodies pressed together. We moved to the beat of the music, sparks flying between my legs where my body ground against Parker’s thigh, and the best (and worst) part of it was that he knew exactly what it was doing to me.
“Sometimes,” he whispered in my ear, his arm around my waist keeping me steady, “when we were teens, I imagined taking you somewhere with a proper club and doing something just like this. Dancing in a club with you, nobody to recognize us, being as filthy as we wanted.”
“Yes,” I breathed out before I could stop myself and regain my self-control. “I would’ve liked that.”
We would’ve had the time of our lives, even though we would’ve had to get fake IDs, seeing as we’d both been under 21 at the time. It made me a little sad that we’d missed out on that, that we hadn’t gotten to do that.
But we were here now. We were dancing now in a club, no fake IDs required, and I was having a lot of fun. I was also extremely turned on. I probably could have ground down onto Parker’s thigh and come just from that, if I hadn’t cared about making an idiot of myself and everyone around me knowing that I was too horny to wait for a private spot. But thank God, I at least had enough self-control not to do that.
Hmmm. Privacy.
When we’d first gotten to the club I’d hit up the bathroom, and in that same hallway I’d seen a door marked ‘Office’. Now, far as I knew, there probably wouldn’t be anyone in there right now. The managers for clubs didn’t tend to be there when the club’s actually open and busy—it was for during the day when they could handle stock, and count the till, and that kind of thing. A bartender might slip in to use it if they really needed something but I couldn’t think what reason that could be, and so I was pretty damn sure it would remain empty until closing then the bartenders would use it to count their drawers and close up shop.
If it was unlocked…
It probably wasn’t, but… if I could get in there… how would I get in there? There was a manager on duty somewhere, keeping an eye on things, that much was for certain. I didn’t see any reason for the guy to be in his office but if I could…
A plan started to form in my mind. I wasn’t about to have sex in a dirty bathroom with a bunch of other people either hearing it or at least knowing what was going on in there. And I wasn’t about to wait until we got home, or do it in the back alley. I was too old for that kind of nonsense. Hmm.
A hand grabbed me by the arm and I jolted in surprise, only to turn and see Van there. “I want a drink!” she yelled. “If you two are doing having sex on the dance floor!”
She didn’t sound nearly as judgmental as I’d feared she would, and I nodded, letting her drag me—and therefore Parker—over to the bar.
The reason for Van’s wanting a drink immediately became clear when a handsome bartender walked up to us and asked for our orders. He was a tall drink of water, I had to admit that, even though I thought (personally) that Parker was more handsome. But the guy was tall and dark haired and that was Van’s type, and she was fluttering her eyelashes at him like she was going to make her eyelids fall off.
I was never going to be able to just turn it on and flirt the way that Van could. I’d never had her confidence. And it wasn’t about my body type at all. Van was big, just like I was, but she didn’t give a damn and she got with guys all the time (which pissed off Lucas to no end). I was just a lot more awkward as a person. I was more… introverted.
Luckily that was part of why we were such good friends. We balanced each other out.
Van put in her drink order and then winked at us as the bartender went over to the other end of the bar. “You two have fun, I’m going to go see if I can chat him up more. You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” I seriously was more than happy to be spending time with Parker, even though originally this had been a planned girls’ night. Van and I could go out and get breakfast together tomorrow, or something. It was the weekend after all.
“Perfect.” Van adjusted her dress, tossed her hair back, and went after the bartender.
“Good luck!” I yelled after her.
Parker’s gaze followed her. “Is she going to be okay?”
“All of Lucas’s paranoia aside, honestly, we’re adults and Van can handle herself. She’s much better at people and flirting than I am.”
“I think you’re pretty good at it,” Parker commented casually, as if it was nothing for him to admit to that.
My face got hot and I had to look away from him. Parker said it like it was matter of fact, and I didn’t know how to respond to that because to do that would be to admit that he was the only person I’d ever been with. And I couldn’t say that to him. I couldn’t admit to him that he was the only man I’d ever slept with, and the only man I’d ever loved. First of all, there was Ally to consider, and no way was I dropping that bomb on him (and at a nightclub of all places) and sending our lives into chaos. Second of all… I didn’t know if I could admit that to him after he’d up and left. Even though clearly a part of me wanted to forgive him and be with him, the rest of me still felt like I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk my heart in that way.
But it wasn’t risking my heart to have sex with him, and oh God, did I want to have sex with him. Badly. And I couldn’t back at the apartment with Ally there—or Lucas, Jesus Christ.
Luckily, I had a plan.
23
Parker
Emma looked so fucking stunning, I didn’t know how I was going to keep my hands to myself. It had been a struggle all while we’d danced not to touch her inappropriately. It was a nightclub, people were practically having sex out on the dance floor, and the temptation to act like a horny teenager and just take her had been so fucking strong I’d gotten a headrush.
And fuck, she’d actually responded. I’d half-expected her to t
ell me to go back to the bar once I’d dealt with that creep, but instead she’d kept dancing with me. She’d liked my protectiveness, my stepping in. She’d been practically grinding against my thigh at the end there, and I could feel the scent of her arousal clogging up my nose as I nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear. She’d been teasing me, flirting with me, and I was feeling high as a fucking kite. This was what I’d wanted and hadn’t dared to hope for after all of her previous behavior.
If only Ally and Lucas weren’t back at the apartment. I would love to take Emma home right fucking now and fuck her brains out, show her even more of a good time than before, but there was no way she’d do anything while Ally was there. And especially not while Lucas was there. Honestly I wasn’t sure I wanted to do anything with Lucas there either, there were too many ways he’d lose his mind over that. If I had a sister I sure wouldn’t want to find her having sex with someone, no way.
Emma had a vixen’s gleam in her eye, the kind that she’d use to get when we were together back in the day and she was coming up with a scheme—usually a sexy one that involved us doing something in a place where we could easily get caught, like the swimming hole again, or up in her room while her parents were home. Emma had been quiet overall, not really a party person, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a little vixen, a daredevil, in her own right. She had been a naughty girl—my naughty girl—and I’d loved her for it.
She had that same look in her eyes now, and I found myself both worried and thrilled. What was she up to? This could, possibly, end in a lot of fun for me but it could also end in a lot of trouble, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out which.
“Do me a favor,” Emma said, “and follow my lead.”
Hoo boy. “Whatever you say.”
There was a place by the bar to put your purses and coats, an unusually thoughtful gesture given that most nightclubs tended to have the attitude of if you left it somewhere it’s not our fault if it’s stolen, and Emma led me there to grab the small black purse she’d brought with her. She checked her cell phone, probably to make sure everything was good with Ally and Lucas, and then pulled out some eyedrops.
Hmm. Okay. Interesting. I had no idea where she was going with this. Curiosity was definitely winning out over whatever concerns I had.
Emma filled up her eyes until they started to overflow, making it look like she was crying. She pinched her cheeks and rubbed at her eyes, making them red and her face all pink, and then she put her purse away and signaled the bartender.
Well, not the bartender that Van was chatting up. He was busy showing off his biceps to Van, who was squeezing them and one hundred percent enamored. The bartender that Emma signaled was a curvy woman with thick blonde hair and a wide mouth. She looked alarmed when she walked over and noticed that Emma was crying. “You okay, honey?”
The bartender glanced over at me, like she thought I might be giving Emma a hard time. It was reassuring to see that there were employees here ready to look out for their female patrons.
“Could I—could I speak to your manager?” Emma asked, sounding devastated. You’d think her puppy had just died.
The bartender looked confused, but she nodded and grabbed a phone at the back of the bar, ringing up the manager.
A few moments later, as Emma continued to sniffle, an older man appeared wearing a shirt with the club’s logo on it. “Everything okay? How can I help?”
Emma started crying even harder. Damn. Somebody had missed out on her true calling as an actress. I was both amused and impressed. “My engagement ring, I lost it, do you think you could—I don’t know but—”
She was crying so hard, I could make out her words standing right next to her, but the manager didn’t seem to be able to. “Why don’t we talk in my office, ma’am,” he suggested, gesturing for us to follow him.
Emma nodded, and the moment the guy’s back was turned she winked at me. She… wanted to get into the manager’s office? Why would she want that? She wasn’t intending to rob the place or something was she?
The office was right by the restrooms, in a dimly lit hallway off to the side. Hmmm. If Emma was into it, maybe we could steal one of those restrooms…
The manager led us inside and sat Emma down at his desk. “Is everything okay, ma’am? What seems to be the trouble?”
From here, the noises of the club were muffled, the music just a faint background soundtrack, the only real sign of where we were the steady vibrations pulsing underneath our feet.
The manager looked like a decent guy. In his forties, I would say, bald, honestly he looked like a former bouncer. Emma sniffled again. “I lost my engagement ring while I was dancing and I can’t find it anywhere. I was hoping—could you please find it for me?”
Engagement ring? What?
Emma wasn’t engaged to anybody. I had never seen her wearing a ring. I knew Emma might have been feisty with me but she never would’ve slept with me if she was seeing someone. Emma wasn’t the type to cheat.
So what game was she playing at? Why would she lie about something so random? And put up such a big production? What did she want with the manager’s office? She wanted to get us in here for some reason, I could tell that much.
“Can you tell me what it looked like?” the manager asked, and oh man, I hoped Emma had some sort of answer ready.
“Oh, definitely.” Emma nodded. “It’s a rose gold band, with three small diamonds, in a row, getting slightly larger, and then the top stone isn’t a diamond, it’s blue and purple, it kind of changes colors a little as it catches the light.”
That… sounded like a beautiful ring, actually. And that was a lot more detail than I would’ve thought from Emma. Was she thinking of a particular ring? Had she been engaged once—to Ally’s father? Was she thinking of the ring he had given her? Or was she thinking about the ring she wanted to have someday?
I had so many questions and no way to ask her for answers. Even if we got to be alone, I had a feeling that Emma wasn’t going to want to answer me, not about this. So I swallowed my thoughts and kept silent as Emma finished describing.
“Could you please find it?” Emma begged. “It means so much to me, it’s my engagement ring, and my fiancé thought forever about the best one and—”
“Of course, of course,” the manager replied, his hands up in a placating gesture. “We’ll get right on that.
“Could we—I’m so sorry to ask this but could we wait here?” Emma went on. “I don’t want to—this is so embarrassing, standing there crying in front of everybody, could you just—give me a minute to compose myself?”
The manager looked confused for a moment, but then shrugged. He probably didn’t know how to say no to a crying woman and I couldn’t blame him. What could be the harm in leaving a customer in his office for a few minutes, right?
I had no doubt in my mind that this was Emma’s plan all along. She wanted to be in this office, with me, without the manager. Why the hell would she want that, though? I felt like I was an idiot, like there was an obvious answer here that I was missing, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it was.
The manager promised Emma he’d find her ring, and then left—probably muttering curses in his head to stupid customers while he was at it.
The second the guy was gone, Emma was up and out of her seat, locking the door behind him. I gaped at her, standing. “What are you doing?”
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Emma said, walking back over to me. Her hips were swaying and there was a hungry spark in her eye, one that I’d seen out on the dance floor as we’d moved together. “So that means no stupid questions.”
Her hands slid up my chest until she got her arms around my neck, her body pressed up against mine. I could feel every soft, generous curve of her, and my cock started to swell again. I’d been stiffening out on the dance floor, especially once I’d gotten my thigh between her legs and she’d started grinding down onto it. She’d been so fucking sexy, and it was probably
a good thing that Van had pulled us out of the crowd when she had because another thirty seconds and it probably would’ve been too awkward for me to dance anymore.
But God, she’d been so sexy, and she was unbelievably sexy now, looking up at me with her dark, mischievous, hungry gaze. My hands fell to her hips without thinking about it. I wanted her. Craved her.
“Kiss me,” Emma whispered, half a plea, half a command, and I could never deny her that.
I leaned in and followed her instructions.
This was not a soft, gentle kiss by any means. This was almost like war, only instead of the ferocious, biting edge of opposition we’d been in the first time, in the apartment hallway, it was like we were working together. Emma pushed into me, her lips soft and parting but insistent, her tongue warm and slick. I kissed her back with everything that I had, grabbing handfuls of her dress and shoving it up, exposing her legs, getting a fistful of her ass and squeezing.
Emma moaned and I lightly spanked her. She’d liked that, back when we were together all those years ago. One time she’d been teasing me all day and I’d told her she’d been naughty so I’d taken her over my knee, spanking her ten times, and she’d been so goddamn turned on my leg had been soaking wet by the end.
Seemed she still liked that, because she bit down hard on my lip and jolted in my arms. I growled in satisfaction. “We have to be quiet.”
Had Ally’s father known she liked a little spanking? Had he known that Emma could be mischievous and spontaneous and daring? Had he learned all these little tricks? I found myself savagely hoping that he hadn’t, that only I got to know these parts of her.
“We have to be careful,” I warned her, even as I grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, kissing down her neck. That smooth pale column of her throat was calling to me like water in a desert and I had to get my mouth on her. I wanted to leave marks so badly, marks where everyone could see them and know that Emma was taken, that she wanted me, that I was the only one that could make her feel this way.
Roomies with Brother's Best Friend Page 14
