by Erika Wilde
He continued his search while nursing a soda, ignoring the voluptuous women in tight-fitting outfits shoving their breasts in front of his face and others who attempted to strike up a conversation, which was nearly impossible over the deafening beat of the music. And that suited Cole just fine since he wasn’t in the mood for a hollering exchange of inconsequential chitchat.
Twenty minutes later, he finally spotted Melodie standing at one of the three bars in the establishment. He welcomed the rush of relief pouring through him, grateful that she hadn’t decided to go to another nightclub instead of the one Noah had recommended.
She was facing the bartender as she ordered a drink, and he moved closer to get a better look at her, deliberately keeping himself concealed in the crush of patrons as he neared. The strobe lights alternately illuminated her, giving him flashing glimpses of her shiny brown hair with auburn highlights as well as a partial glimpse of the outfit she wore. The strappy dress was made of some kind of beige, stretchy material that clung to her shape, making him wonder if she was even wearing a bra beneath. Or panties for that matter. He certainly couldn’t detect any obtrusive lines along her backside that would indicate otherwise.
Ignoring the stirring of desire smoldering to life inside him, he frowned as he caught sight of something colorful on her upper shoulder, a shape that looked suspiciously like a butterfly in flight. He blew out a deep breath as he drew the only conclusion available—she’d gotten herself a tattoo. No doubt her own personal statement of rebellion and independence.
Merging back into the crowd, he swore a colorful stream of expletives, knowing he was partially responsible for driving her to this extreme by rejecting her advances. She was turning defiant, reckless and wild, and who knew what she’d do next to prove to herself and everyone around her that she was a bold, aggressive kind of woman who could handle anything and anyone.
And it appeared she was going to make her point with the good-looking guy with sandy-blond hair who’d just sidled up to the bar next to her. Before she could open the small purse hanging from her shoulder to pay for the drink the bartender had just delivered, the other man doled out the cash to cover her bill. Her lips moved with the words “thank you,” and she graced him with a sweet smile that made Cole feel as though he’d been sucker punched in the belly. He felt a slow burn of jealousy that he immediately tried to dismiss. And failed.
The other man bent toward her to say something directly into her ear, and Melodie laughed in response and nodded her head. With a hand pressing against the small of her back, the man led her to a table near the back of the club where two other guys were already sitting and welcomed her into their group.
Seeing the potential for trouble, Cole moved to the outer fringes of the room where he could keep his presence concealed while he continued his surveillance. Alternately, he watched the guys at the table and kept an eye on her drink when one of them whisked her off to the dance floor to enjoy the entertainment.
For the next hour and a half Cole monitored the situation from afar. From what he’d observed, none of the men crossed the line with Melodie in a way that would prompt him to intervene, though he didn’t care for the touches and casual caresses that passed between her and a few of the guys, or the sensual way Melodie moved as she danced that drew too many appreciative stares. While he was miserable and cranky and resenting the men who dared to touch her, she was having a great time—dancing and laughing and thoroughly enjoying herself and the company she kept.
From Cole’s last count, she’d consumed five drinks and was working on her sixth, which no doubt accounted for her carefree, bubbly and enthusiastic attitude. He stared into the depths of his third plain cola on the rocks, wishing he could indulge in something stronger to take the edge off the frustration and other inexplicable emotions raging inside him.
He downed the rest of his drink and set his empty glass at the end of the bar. When he glanced back in the direction he’d last seen Melodie, he frowned, realizing he’d lost sight of her. She was no longer out on the dance floor with the blond-haired guy who’d bought her first drink.
A huge wave of unease twisted inside him. Maneuvering his way past clusters of people, he swept the place with a shrewd glance in an effort to locate Melodie. Within minutes he’d scanned the entire area, but hadn’t found her or her date. A frantic sensation gripped him and made his heart thunder in his chest, and his worst fear clawed its way to the surface—she’d gone home with the guy.
“Shit!” Dragging a hand along his clenched jaw, he looked over at the table where the other men had been sitting with Melodie, only to find all of them gone, as well. His stomach cramped even worse at all the possible, dreadful scenarios starting a mad dash through his over imaginative brain.
So much for Richard trusting him to keep an eye on his daughter! He’d taken his gaze off of her for two minutes and she’d left, intoxicated, with men she didn’t even know. How the fuck was he going to explain such an unforgivable blunder to her father?
The scorching imprint of a very feminine body pressed up against his backside, and he stiffened as slender hands and arms slipped around his waist. Before he could turn around, she stood up on tiptoe, causing her full, soft breasts to rub along his spine, and whispered huskily in his ear, “Looking for someone?”
He identified the sultry voice as Melodie’s, and his aroused body instinctively recognized her unique scent and lush curves and responded accordingly. Grasping her wrists, he whirled around and scowled at her, both relieved to find her safe and unharmed, and furious that she’d turned him inside out with worry for her welfare.
She swayed into him, catching her balance with her hands against his solid chest. Her soft, warm lips touched the shell of his ear, and he shuddered with awareness as her damp breath feathered against the sensitive skin just below his lobe. His heartbeat quickened, as did a certain masculine part of his body.
“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” she said over the throbbing beat of the music, her throaty voice infused with a taunting amount of amusement.
“I’m having a great time,” he forced out through gritted teeth, then pulled in a deep, rational breath. “Where’s your date?”
One smooth, bare shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “He left with his friends to go to a different nightclub.” Lashes falling half-mast, she played with the buttons down the front of his shirt, her index finger slowly making its way lower.
Shoring his defenses against her bold exploration, he caught her wandering hand and lifted it back up to his chest. “I think it’s time you left, too.” He’d take her home and let her sleep off the effects of the alcohol.
Her bottom lip curled into a pout that contradicted the defiant tilt of her chin. “I’m not ready to leave yet. I’m enjoying myself too much, though I think we ought to loosen you up a bit.”
“I don’t think so,” he said gruffly.
She blinked languidly and met his gaze, her own eyes glowing a deep brown hue rimmed in brilliant shards of gold. Her hair was tousled like burnished fire around her head, and her full, glossy lips tapped into primitive and dominant male urges he was doing his damnedest to keep confined behind a facade of control.
Lifting her hand, she smoothed her fingers along his taut jaw and trailed the tips to the back of his neck, setting his senses on fire. “You look very, very tense, and I have just the cure.” Her mouth curled into one of those seductive smiles that had been his downfall twice before. “Come dance with me,” she beckoned.
She was a witch, and this time he wasn’t about to let her cast her spell on him. “No.”
The one word was spoken abruptly and loud enough that two other women cast a curious glance their way. Unfortunately, his very vocal refusal did nothing to deter Melodie from satisfying her own desires. “I want to dance, Cole. With you.”
Her hand dropped to the waistband of his jeans, and she hooked two fingers into his belt loop. Turning toward the mob of people on the dance floor
, she tugged at him to follow, leaving him with only two options…to accompany her, or take the risk of her ripping his pants off.
Keeping in mind how many drinks she’d consumed, he opted to follow her instead of drawing attention to them with a struggle or argument. She dragged him into the middle of writhing bodies gyrating to the provocative beat of the music. Cole had never been keen on dancing, and he decided he wasn’t about to start now. He stood there in the crush of people, willing to suffer through one song so Melodie could get the urge to dance out of her system. Then he would haul her out of the place and take her home.
There wasn’t much room to maneuver without bumping into someone, and Melodie took advantage of their close proximity. Encircling her arms around his neck, she drew him as close as two bodies could get with their clothes on, from her breasts all the way down to her knees, and moved against him, slowly and rhythmically, in a way that was completely, inherently sexual.
She brought his head down to hers and pressed her mouth against his ear to be heard. “Dance with me, Cole. I want to feel your body moving against mine.”
Her suggestive invitation devastated his good intentions. He had no idea how she always managed to provoke him into doing things he knew he shouldn’t. Just like the other night in the hot tub, he found himself giving in to her request, wanting the same thing, unable to refuse what his own body craved as well.
Splaying a hand on her lower back and cupping her hip in his other palm, he melded their lower bodies and wedged a leg between her soft, slender ones. Angling her pelvis intimately closer, he slid his knee higher, pressed deeper, pushing the hem of her dress up until she rode his hard thigh. The damp heat of her seeped through the fabric of his pants and he groaned at the incredible surge of hot, carnal lust that kicked up his adrenaline.
“Yes.” The single word left her lips, drowned out by loud rock ’n’ roll, but he knew what that acquiescence meant, knew what she ached for, and knew he was about to take her exactly where she wanted to go. Here and now.
He rocked her tighter against his thigh, building a slow, illicit friction between her legs that made her eyes darken with growing need. Strobe lights pulsed in time to the music, and someone brushed up against Cole from behind, but nobody paid any attention to them. Nobody cared that Melodie was wrapped securely in his arms, straddling his thigh, performing her own private dance just for him.
Their scandalous behavior was reckless. Dangerous. And wildly exciting. Her lashes fluttered closed and she arched into him, gripping his shoulders for better leverage, a tighter fit. Recognizing the signs of her approaching orgasm, his own breathing deepened, and he started to sweat, the heat that caused it all internal. Ecstasy flitted across her expression as her head fell back, and her lips parted in the throes of supreme pleasure. Her legs clenched around his, her hips undulated, and he absorbed the shudders that rippled through her.
The moment was so erotic, so insanely arousing, yet there was no satisfaction to be had for him. At least not at the moment. While Melodie could keep her orgasm discreet in a public place, men just didn’t have that kind of luxury, and his own release would have to wait until he could take matters into his own hands later.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a soft, content smile, and as one song segued into another, her satiated body gradually came alive again, swaying provocatively, enticingly, along the length of his. Tempting him, teasing him with what he hungered for, but couldn’t have.
She turned around in his arms, aligning their bodies his front to her back, giving him a clear view of the bright, colorful tattoo on her shoulder. Raising her hands above her head, she shimmied her hips against his raging erection, inflaming him with the uninhibited tactic. He had no idea where in the hell she’d learned to move like that, but the effect ravaged his senses and destroyed the last thin thread of his control.
Muttering an expletive, he grabbed her around the waist and locked her tight against his chest, uncaring that she could feel the branding heat and length of his hard dick nestled between her buttocks. She was, after all, the cause.
“We’re leaving, now,” he growled into her ear, loud enough that she could hear him above the din. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a scene.”
She stiffened defiantly in his arms. “I’m not ready to leave.”
And he wasn’t about to let her stay so some guy could take advantage of her pliable and very sexual state of mind. “It’s past your bedtime, sweetheart.” Grasping her arm firmly in his hand, he wove his way through the throng of people on the dance floor, surprised that his fierce erection allowed him to walk normally. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
“I’m just starting to enjoy myself,” she yelled back as she trotted behind him in her fuck me heels while trying to finagle her arm from his grip. “You go home. I think I’ll shut the place down.”
He shot her a withering look from over his shoulder, his arousal and her resistance feeding his anger. “Like hell you will!”
Her lips pursed stubbornly, but she didn’t back down from his scowl. “Nobody asked you to babysit me, Cole.”
He barked out a harsh breath of laughter. “Somebody needs to make sure you don’t end up passed out somewhere between here and your apartment.” Or in another man’s bed. The thought alone caused his blood to boil with jealousy, and he wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
“I’m not drunk,” she shouted indignantly.
He continued plowing forward through the crowd, his eye on the red Exit sign above the main entrance. “You’re right,” he tossed out to her, a sarcastic bite to his tone. “What was I thinking? After consuming six drinks in the span of two hours, of course you’re not the least bit intoxicated!”
Shoving open the double doors to the nightclub, he strode out into the clear night air, his ears and head thanking him for leaving the boisterous entertainment behind.
“You can’t just drag me off against my will!” Melodie shouted, her shrill tone capturing one of the bouncer’s attention who’d stepped out for a smoke break.
Cole inwardly cringed as the big, beefy guy crushed out his cigarette and stepped forward to assist the woman in distress. Thinking fast, he whipped out his wallet, flashed his PI badge like a cop in control of a critical situation, and addressed the other man in an authoritative tone of voice. “This is my sister, and for your information she’s underage and has no business being in this nightclub.”
The guy’s eyes widened in shock and he held up his hands. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. We card everyone who goes through that door.”
Melodie glared at Cole, then tried to reason with the bouncer. “I’m not underage!”
“Not with that fake ID you’re carrying, you’re not,” Cole drawled smoothly as he pocketed his billfold before speaking to the other guy again. “I’ll let the oversight slide this time, but if it happens again, you can bet the Feds will be crawling all over this place, and I’m sure your boss wouldn’t appreciate being slapped with a hefty fine.”
The other guy backed off immediately, mumbling apologies, obviously not wanting to deal with the liability his “sister” presented. With a slack-jawed Melodie by his side, he crossed the graveled parking lot toward his utility vehicle.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she said once she’d shaken off her astonishment and regained her ire.
He shrugged unrepentantly. “I don’t need any more trouble than what I’ve already got with you.”
“Me?” Her exasperation raised a notch as she doubled her steps to keep up with his long-legged stride. “I was doing just fine in there until you came along.”
He grunted in reply. He didn’t even want to consider what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up at Paxton’s. Would she have allowed one of those guys the same liberties on the dance floor that she’d granted him? His temper flared at the thought.
Unlocking the truck, he opened the passenger-side door, placed his hand on the top of her head, and guided
her inside the car, giving her no choice but to obey. He slammed the door shut and was halfway around the front when she popped out of the vehicle again, the small purse hanging from her shoulder slapping against her hip.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Cole,” she said stubbornly, and yanked at the hem of her dress, which had ridden up on her thighs.
His jaw clenched in aggravation. Keeping his gaze off her long, bare legs, he stalked back and silently, but firmly, forced her back into the leather seat. With one hand on her squirming shoulder to keep her in place and his upper body blocking what he was about to do, he opened the glove compartment and withdrew a set of steel handcuffs he kept tucked in there for emergencies. And this situation definitely qualified. He looped the cuffs through the handgrip on the dash, then manacled one of Melodie’s wrist, then the other. Then he slipped out of the car again and closed the door on the sound of her outraged gasp.
She fumed as he pulled out of the parking lot, then finally unleashed the resentment simmering inside her. “I don’t appreciate you treating me like a common criminal.” She gave her shackles a fierce tug, but they didn’t budge.
He eased the SUV onto the freeway toward Oakland. “I’m ensuring your safety since you don’t seem capable of doing it for yourself.”
“This is unbelievable,” she said with a slow shake of her head, then stared out the window and the darkness beyond. “What about my car?”
“We’ll pick it up tomorrow. You’re not driving anywhere tonight. Your father would kill me if you were picked up on a DUI charge,” he muttered.
Her head whipped around fast, causing her hair to swirl around her face. The heat of her gaze bore relentlessly into him. “Excuse me?”
