“Um, no.” Wow, was I thirsty. I lifted my beer and hid behind the glass.
“I knew it!” Daphne exclaimed, pointing at Rio. “You don’t look like a Barry. A Barry seems more uptight, like someone my parents would approve of.”
I grabbed Rio’s chin and pulled his face to mine. “Want to dance?”
“Let’s go.” He took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
Such as it was. Mostly it was a clear area around the bandstand where people stood during live concerts. Later, it’d be packed by the sheer volume of bodies trying to cram into the bar. For now, though, there was plenty of space for me and Rio to get down to Christina Aguilera.
I started winding myself up to shake some serious booty when Rio spun me into his body. Staring into my eyes, he let go of my hand, put his on my hips, and led me into the salsa.
Only one word for it: delicious. He moved me in a way that would have been illegal in some states. It felt so right that I didn’t want to think about it. So instead I focused on how sexy Rio was and how close his lips were to mine. It wouldn’t take very much to reach up and kiss him.
God knows I was dying to. Just one kiss, so I could prove once and for all that he wasn’t the sex-god he appeared to be.
A flash of pink caught my eye. I turned to look and stumbled over my feet when I saw Barry whirling Cindy to our right.
“You okay?” Rio murmured in my ear.
I nodded, even though I was totally blown away. Barry never danced and here he was, shaking his groove with Cindy. He was no Patrick Swayze, but he looked like he was having fun. I didn’t know whether to applaud Cindy or pout because the one time I went dancing with him he’d just stood to one side, bored, watching me dance.
Loud cheering from the bar area pulled my attention. I looked to check out what was going on, expecting to see people doing shots.
Rio stopped abruptly. “Isn’t that your sister?”
I blinked, positive I was seeing things. It couldn’t be Daphne. Daphne wouldn’t do a striptease on top of a bar. Her hair wouldn’t fly around her head—it’d be subdued in a tight knot. And she definitely wouldn’t take off her shirt in front of a bunch of cheering strangers and swing it around her head.
My beer must have been spiked. I had to be hallucinating.
Then the woman looked up and gave me a loopy smile. “Mena! Look, I’m dancing. I’m getting D-O-W-N!”
Okay, I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Come on.” I took Rio’s hand and pushed my way to the bar, dragging him behind me. Shoving a couple overzealous boys aside, I wiggled up to the bar. “Daphne, what are you doing?”
“Dancing.” She giggled and shook her ass in my face.
Johnny wedged his way next to me. “She’s great, Mena,” he said loudly to be heard over the commotion. “Thanks a lot.”
“Yeah.” Not.
“She’s not frigid like you. Were you adopted?”
I glared at him, but he was too busy raptly gazing at Daphne’s bare belly to notice. I felt Rio’s chuckle on my neck, so I turned around to glare at him too.
“Was she a stripper?” Johnny did a white man’s bop with his head. “She’s got moves.”
“Daphne,” I called, aware of the desperation creeping into my voice. I held my hand out to encourage her off the bar. “Why don’t we go to the dance floor? There’s more room there.”
“I wanna dance here.” She whirled her shirt one more time and let go. It landed on my right arm.
“Need some help?” Rio asked from behind me.
“I got it.” I crumpled the blouse and tossed it to him.
“Take it off, baby!” one of the guys at the other end yelled. A cheer went up from everyone watching her.
Daphne paused. I could see the cogs turning in her head and I groaned. Before I could do anything, she whipped her chemise over her head and sent it flying. Then she did a shimmy in her bra that would have made J.Lo green with envy.
A whooping cheer went up through the bar, but what caught my eye was the trio of bouncers cutting through the crowd to get to her.
Shit. Try explaining to our parents why their perfect daughter spent the night in jail. Guess who’d get the blame?
I grabbed my sister’s leg. “Come down
now
.”
“Stop it. I’m sick of dancing all by myself. Tonight I’m gonna dance with someone else.”
Great. Now she was quoting Madonna. I tugged. “You can dance with someone else on the dance floor.”
She shook me off, lost her balance, and stumbled off the bar. Fortunately, her fans caught her. Unfortunately, they turned the moment into an impromptu mosh pit and passed her overhead.
I tried to catch her as she went by, but the crowd carried her away from me. Rio caught hold of her, pulled her down, and propped her between us. Which would have been a relief, except apparently some industrious onlooker had unhooked her bra, so when she stood up, it slipped off her shoulders and hung in the crook of her elbows.
Daphne giggled. “Oops.”
I lifted it back up in place and reached around to hook it again.
“No.” She slapped my hands away. “I wanna be free.”
I scowled. “That’s going to be really hard in prison.”
“Let me.” Rio took the ends of the bra and fastened them in two seconds flat. He must have noted my look because he shrugged. “A skill I learned in back of the bus in seventh grade.”
“Hooking bras up?” I asked, my brows raised.
He grinned rakishly and draped Daphne’s shirt around her. “I had to hook them back up in order to practice unhooking them again.”
Of course. Silly me. “Let’s get her out of here.”
“I’ll take her home,” Johnny piped up.
I’d forgotten about him. As if I would let my sister go home with a guy who encouraged her to strip in public. “No thanks. We got it.”
He latched onto Daphne’s arm. “She’s my date.”
She gave him her wobbly smile. “You’re my date too.”
I yanked Daphne back. Her head snapped forward and her hair covered her face like she was doing an impression of Cousin Itt. She went heavy and dangled from our arms; I knew she had passed out. “We’ll take her home.”
As Rio and I edged away, Johnny grabbed my hand. “Will you at least give her my number? I have to see her again.”
Rolling my eyes, I huffed in exasperation. “Fine.”
He didn’t let go. “Promise.”
God, he was relentless. No wonder he was so successful in biz dev. “I promise. Now let go before we get thrown out of here.”
The bouncers arrived at our side, their arms crossed, shooting us that intimidating glare they must practice in front of a mirror.
I tried to smile at them. “We’re leaving.”
“Yes, you are,” one of them replied flatly.
I glanced at Rio and we dragged Daphne’s dead weight out the bar and to his car. We propped her against the door so Rio could get his keys out of his pocket.
“Maybe we should put her in the trunk.”
Rio slipped the key in the lock and glanced at me as he popped it open. “Excuse me?”
“I’d hate it if she threw up in there.” His Mustang was so beautiful.
He picked Daphne up like she was a doll instead of an Amazon and set her in the front seat. “Does she usually throw up when she’s drunk?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure she’s ever been drunk before.”
“I think we can take our chances,” he said with a smile as he closed the door.
I knew he was doing me a favor, but I couldn’t help taking advantage of the situation. “Maybe I should drive since I know how to get to my house.” I batted my eyes for good measure.
Chuckling, he reached for my hand and pulled me flush against him.
Was he going to kiss me now? He was, I just knew it. I licked my lips, hoping they were sufficiently soft and supple and not like sandpaper.
He dropped the keys in my hand, closed my fist, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You can drive.”
Must have heard wrong. I shook my head to clear it. “Excuse me? I thought you just said I could drive your baby?”
“I did.”
I gasped. Then I shot out of his arms and climbed in before he changed his mind. Of course, I had to get back out to let him in the back seat, but then we were settled.
I took a deep breath and grinned into the rearview mirror. “I’ll try to keep it under a hundred.”
He smiled indulgently. “Thanks.”
And we were off.
I had a sexual experience driving that car. Good thing my house wasn’t far because another five minutes driving it and I would’ve had an orgasm right there.
I double-parked in front of my house, hopped out, and waited for Rio to emerge. He’d just closed the door when I jumped him. Literally. My arms went around his neck and my legs gripped his waist. His hands automatically went to support me under my butt.
I laughed triumphantly, throwing my head back. “That was the best ride I’ve ever had!”
I felt his grip tighten on me. Still laughing, I brought my gaze to his. And immediately sobered.
The way he watched me made me conscious of how my parts fit against his. And that, judging by their firmness, his parts were interested in getting to know mine better. And in his eyes I could see him offering me a better ride.
Gulp.
As nervous as I felt about that (yeah, part of me still stung from Barry saying I was boring in bed), I realized I wanted it. I wanted him, more than I’d ever wanted anyone. Ever.
And, damn it, I was sick of waiting for him to kiss me. This was the twenty-first century. Hell if I was going to wait docilely till he was ready.
I
was ready, and if he didn’t want me he wouldn’t be bursting through his jeans like he was right now.
So I lifted a hand to his neck and pulled his head down until my lips were a breath away. His gaze intensified, alternating between my lips and my eyes.
Any other man would have rushed forward to take what I offered. It took me a second to realize why Rio wasn’t. Not that he didn’t want me, but to draw out the anticipation between us. He didn’t kiss me because he wanted me so much. The evidence was right before me.
Triumph surged. I smiled, just a little. He was mine.
I wanted to taste him so badly, but I stayed where I was, hovering in front of his mouth. When I spoke, my voice was sex-kitten husky. “I really like—” I licked my lips “—your car.”
His fingers bit reflexively into my haunches and his eyes flared with need. “I can tell.”
I tightened my legs around his hips. “I wouldn’t mind driving it again.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Good.” I released my legs and slid down his body as slowly as I possibly could (I’m a wicked girl and proud of it). I almost groaned as I passed over his erection. It made me want to climb back up and do it all over again.
Clearing my throat, I stepped back, though he stopped me by tangling his hand in my hair. “Phil.”
I could only swallow as a reply.
His hand loosened from my hair, his fingers grazing my collarbone before drifting, light as feathers, to the spaghetti strap on my left shoulder. He traced the thin strap down to the lace edging the satin covering the outside of my breast. His fingertips slipped under the lace, brushing lightly against the outside swell of my breast.
Couldn’t help it—I gasped.
His lips curved but there wasn’t any humor in them. “I can play dirty too.”
“I love dirty,” I managed to say. “The dirtier the better.”
“I like that about you.” His nail scraped dangerously close to my nipple.
If I shifted just a little he’d brush it. I wanted that almost as much as I wanted him to strip me and take me on the hood of his car. Though it’d leave a dent, which was sacrilege. I glanced at the sidewalk. It didn’t look
too
hard.
But Rio eased his finger out of my top and said, “We should get your sister inside.”
I frowned. Sister? Oh yeah, Daphne. I peered in the car, guilty that I’d forgotten about her, but she was still passed out so I doubted she’d care.
While Rio dragged her limp carcass out of the car, I ran ahead to open the front door.
Rio’s steps sounded heavy on the porch steps. Turning, I saw he had Daphne cradled in his arms. I looked at the stairs leading up to my home and winced. “Do you need help carrying her upstairs?”
“No,” he said, slightly breathlessly. “Lead the way.”
I took the steps two at a time, rushing through the living room to her bedroom.
“Phil?”
“In here,” I called out as I turned down the sheets.
He walked in and I helped him get her on the bed. Silently we took Daphne’s shoes off and untangled her from her shirt. The rest of her clothes we left on. Covering her, I turned the light off and we walked out.