Chapter 60
Tonight wasn’t about him. It was about the woman sitting next to him on the dark red leather couch in the VIP section of the new nightclub. Michelle wanted his brother, so tonight he would start to uphold his end of the bargain.
Shit.
He might need to call back their waitress for more liquor if he was going to make it through this night. A night of not only having a ringside seat to Michelle pursuing his brother, but Nick also helping her to catch him.
Leaning forward, he grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured a healthy amount in a glass, forgoing the cranberry juice. He tilted the drink up to his mouth and shot it back. The burn razed a path down his throat, and he savored it. Concentrated on it. Because if he focused on that burn, then he could shift his attention away from the one that clawed at his gut and hardened his cock.
Jesus.
He moved his gaze away from her. The tangible, sexual lure of her. He could take his eyes off her, but the picture of her was branded into his mind—that petite body poured into tight, black leather pants, a white, high-collared silk shirt with a feminine bow at the throat and ankle boots with “fuck me hard” stiletto heels.
She was sex and innocence. Sin and sweetness. A walking, breathing temptation in leather, silk and flesh.
Stoner wouldn’t be able to resist her.
And Nick had no one to blame but himself. He poured another drink. Tequila this time.
“Whoa there. The evening is just getting started,” Michelle cautioned with an arched eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” He poured her a vodka-and-cranberry and passed it to her. “Here. Catch up.” He waited until she lifted the drink to her mouth and sipped, then clasped her hand in his and brought her to her feet. And turned away. Because, Jesus. Those hips and that ass. “Come on. Let’s go do what we’re here for.”
The sooner he started this lesson in how to reel in his brother, the sooner he could start getting down to the serious business of drowning his brain in alcohol. He’d need it to stop seeing the images of Michelle and Stoner twisted together, kissing and touching. Besides, if he was drunk, he wouldn’t be sober enough to swing on his brother for taking what he coveted.
“So how much longer is your brother going to be around?” Michelle asked. She held on to him, allowing him to guide her down the steps from the glass-enclosed VIP section to the bar and club section below. “This new club is amazing by the way.”
Nick didn't answer her question. He clenched his jaw at the excitement coating her voice. Alcohol. He needed more of it. Sooner rather than later. He needed something to wash down the bitter flavor of envy. As soon as the bouncer opened the door to the club, the muted, thumping bass and music that had vibrated off the glass of the VIP section bombarded them.
Hundreds of people packed the grand nightclub that reminded him of a Vegas venue. Aside from the luxurious VIP lounges, a dual spiral staircase that wouldn’t have been out of place in an palace led to a second story, where a DJ spun her beats and more people danced on the landings and catwalks. Below, three bars, two huge dance floors and several scattered sitting areas filled with tables, chairs and booths encompassed the cavernous space. A lighting system flashed gold, green and white beams, while two LED walls played music videos.
His brother stood at the end of the longest bar, surrounded by a group of men and women. Instead of heading over to him, Nick steered Michelle to the opposite end, sliding up to the bar top and shielding her with his body.
“Shouldn’t we go talk to Stoner? Say hi?” She moved closer, her lips brushing the rim of his ear. “He probably doesn’t know we’re here...”
“He knows we’re here.”
Nick slid an arm around her waist, his fingers splaying wide over the sexy, rounded curve of her hip. Her soft gasp puffed against his cheek as her chest met his, and he pulled her to stand closer between his legs. Cedarwood and roses greeted him, and he battled the urge to bury his face in the crook between her shoulder and neck, and inhale more of her delicious, skin-warmed scent.
“Nick,” she whispered, gripping his arms.
“Shh. Lesson number one, Michelle.” He pinched her chin, tilting her head back and to the side so that her breath ghosted across his mouth. Damn, he hungered to lick his lips, taste her in the only way he could. “You don’t chase after anyone. Let them do the pursuing.”
She scoffed, but he caught the slight tremble in her voice. The uncertainty. “Isn’t that what I’m doing here? Pursuing?”
“No. I’m teaching you how to make the one you want work for you. Now...” He bowed his head, his lips skimming over her cheek, hovering just above her ear. Because he could, under the guise of pretense, he tangled the fingers of his free hand in her hair, fisting the curls. “Stoner is used to people—women—chasing him, currying favor with him, throwing themselves at him. And while he doesn’t duck and dodge, he doesn’t experience the thrill of the chase. Every man craves that thrill, the excitement of it. The challenge of it. The arousal of the takedown and the conquering.”
“God, Nick. You make him sound like an animal.” She chuckled, and it sounded breathless.
His grip on her hip tightened before he deliberately eased it. That wasn’t for him; that telltale signal of excitement belonged to the idea of being captured and covered by his brother. Don’t get it fucking twisted.
“That’s what we are, sweetheart. At the core, we’re beasts who convince ourselves we’re predators. But the truth? The truth is—our secret—we’re your prey all along, and we love every goddamn moment of being taken by you.”
“Nick.” Her lashes fluttered, and her fingers flexed against his arms.
Suddenly, he knew with crystal clear certainty how she would cling to him during sex. Knew the exact pressure her nails would exert against his skin, his muscles. Lust beat at him with merciless fists, and he delighted in being it's punching bag, even acknowledging he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.