Unable to Resist (39 page)

Karma is a bitch, my friend.

She slaps my ass, and the sting makes me jump further into Duane’s embrace forcefully against the dresser. He holds me tight, struggling to hide his very obvious tent. Duane growls and I whimper at the physical contact. I look up at him, his eyes have gone almost completely green, and I swear I can read his thoughts. They mirror my own. I begin to bring my mouth back to his when Liv sighs heavily.

Dammit, why isn’t she gone?

“Jesus, guys,” she erratically slaps her hips with her hands like a toddler.

I let a smile slide onto my face, and I give Duane a peck. “Fine, dillhole. We’re leaving now. Happy?” I ask with a fake, chipper voice I know annoys Liv. Serves her right.

She’s already started moving for the stairs when she yells, “Very. Now get down here! Have you seen the hot piece waiting for me?”

I hear a masculine snicker downstairs. Aiden. Crap, I hadn’t realized he was here, too.

I gently rub Duane’s neck and meet his gaze, both needing and apologetic. “I’m sorry about her.”

He methodically runs his hands up and down my back. “It’s okay, Red. You ready?”

I glance at myself in the mirror behind Duane. The flush in my cheeks makes me look even more prominent and I nod my head, feeling confident. “Yeah,” I offer my hand, “let’s go.”

He grasps my hand and we walk down the stairs.

Aiden’s back is to us when we near the bottom, and Liv has her hand on his upper arm, laughing at something he’s said. His shoulders are bouncing with laughter, in unison with her, and I quickly get the impression he acts much older than his youthful twenty-one.

Liv’s eyes light up and she smiles when we take the last step. “Hey, guys,” she says.

Duane squeezes my hand one last time and gestures toward Aiden. “Red, this is my brother Aiden. Aiden, this is my Ann.”

His Ann.

My smile appears immediately.

Aiden slowly turns around to meet my gaze. His eyes are bright blue, but his face is all Duane. With a strong jaw, and a beautifully-structured face, he’s striking—nothing like the twenty-one-year old scrawny kid I imagined in my mind. His dark brown hair is cut short around the sides but the top is longer and swiped back. He slightly resembles a young David Beckham.

I now understand the “hot piece” Liv was referring to. He’s something to look at, that’s for sure. She is going to devour this kid. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

I extend my hand in his direction and he takes it without reluctance, giving me a warm smile.

“Hey, Ann. It’s great to meet you,” his deep voice announces. “Duane won’t shut up about you.” He exaggerates talking gestures to me.

Duane mutters, “ass,” under his breath and I smile at the two of them. I already love their dynamic. Brothers through and through.

Liv steers the conversation away from me, knowing I hate being the center of attention.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah? I’m ready to get my groove on.” She shakes and does a little John Travolta “Saturday Night Fever” move, and struts to the door.

I smile at her wagging ass and turn to look at Duane. He’s smirking and shaking his head, while Aiden has his eyes glued to her backside, watching her every movement. I think I might have seen a little drool fall down his chin.

Maybe. Hell, who am I kidding? The woman is rocking it tonight. I
know
he’s drooling.

When you live in the center of the city, everything is close. The Rhinestone Cowboy is no exception. It shines bright, summoning us to its good music and freedom-seeking crowd, as we pull into the parking garage.

Duane’s hand never left my bare thigh during the drive here. Every once in a while, I’d have to squeeze my legs together, trying to relieve the tension, and he’d massage my leg in a taunting manner. I thought I was supposed to be the one driving him wild. It’s not supposed to be the other way around.

Damn, him.

Duane shifts the truck into park, gives me a smile, and gets out to open my door. Fumbling, with no coordination, I fall out of my tall truck. I try my hardest to not give a cha-cha shot, but with this short dress and high heels, I can neither deny nor confirm that Duane saw my panties as he guided me down.

Another innuendo.

Ugh.

He beams as we walk hand-in-hand into the club.

It’s busy for a weekday. The place is hopping with energy. The long line of people wraps around the building but we bypass everyone, much to their dismay, and head straight inside.

I question Liv with a raised eyebrow but she shrugs her shoulder and keeps walking, looking a little smug.

Duane pulls me to the bar and presses my front to the high top. His arms wrap around me, dominating and protecting me. He’s surrounding me, closing me in and I love it. He’s staking his claim, and I don’t give a shit. I’m claimed.

His right hand travels to my hip and he lovingly rubs up and down causing me to shiver.

“What would you like, Red?” Duane asks in that throaty voice I love so much.

I push my ass to his front, hoping to ensue a moan from Duane. Successful, I turn to face him with a sly smile and reply, “Amaretto sour, please.”

Duane flags the bartender down and he strolls over to us with a little too much swagger in his step. He looks like he’s limping. I fight a snort as he approaches. His eyes go wide as he sees me, and I duck his obvious attempt to make eye contact. This guy sees Duane wrapped around me, right? I’m not imagining him. Bartender guy licks his lips, and a silver ball in his tongue flickers against his teeth. I cringe; it looked like it hurt. I unconsciously lick my teeth behind my lips, almost soothingly.

What am I doing? He didn’t hit my teeth with that thing.

He bypasses Duane’s presence and looks straight into my eyes. I glower at him. He’s obnoxious.

“What can I get you, sweet thing?” His question accompanied with an egotistical lean on the bar to get closer to me.

I open my mouth to spit a nasty retort to him, but Duane beats me to it.

“You can stop looking at my girl, and get us some drinks.” His arms tighten around me.

He ignores Duane. “My name’s Kal.” He slips his hand into his back pocket and hands me a card.

I shit you not, it says: Kal Perkins, BARTENDER. Cheeseball. Does he hit on so many women per night he has to have damn business cards made? Gross. I take the card and mockingly set it on the bar.

He eyes it with a little hope and asks again, “What can I get you?”

Duane’s hands scrunch up in fists.

Kal’s blonde hair falls just above his brown eyes, and he swipes it back, making it stick up. I blanch. He has a decent body, in another life, and totally different circumstances, one including him not acting like a total sleezeball, I might find him appealing. Might.

I give him a fake smile and look at his forehead, causing him to scratch it. I inwardly smile. Funny how that happens. “Amaretto sour, and whiskey, for my boyfriend.” I emphasize the final word and point to Duane who puffs his chest slightly.

I want to laugh, but this showdown is kind of funny. Who knew? I finally get a boyfriend and guys find me attractive.

Kal gives Duane a disgusted look but finally turns to make our drinks.

Duane and I cuddle a bit while Kal whips up my drink and pours Duane his whiskey. By the time he returns, I’ve turned in Duane’s embrace, and I’m lightly kissing his neck. Kal clears his throat behind us, so I turn to face him.

His face has gone bright red in anger, and he’s grinding his teeth in a manner that makes my jaw ache. His eyes are fierce with jealousy while he looks past me, into Duane’s eyes. The man has no claim on me. I have no idea what his deal is, but I’m not going to feed the damn rage I’m seeing.

Pulling my credit card from my bra—I know, not suitable for this current situation, but I had no other place to put it—and set it on the bar. Duane pulls my hand back, and replaces it with his own card. Turning my head his way, I gently kiss him on the cheek, and thank him. Lifting the skinny red straw to my lips, the amaretto and orange hit my taste buds and I ‘mmmm.’ Kal may be a right-weirdo, but the guy can make a mean drink.

I lift my eyes, and Kal is staring at me with a pained expression. I instantly set my drink down, and swallow. Being a tease is so not what I intended. Kal’s eyes follow my drink, and only then do I realize I sat my drink on his card—like a coaster. I’m an asshole.

Kal huffs in frustration but keeps quiet. He starts to turn to the register but Duane stops him in his tracks.

“Oh, uh—Kal, is it? Keep the tab open, would you?”

Kal’s eyes blaze and he snappily nods. When he returns with Duane’s card, he says nothing more.

I turn back to Duane with a cocked eyebrow. “You sly bastard.”

“I protect what’s mine.” Duane waves me off with a guilty smile and kisses my forehead.

We move to the VIP section, Liv somehow got us into. Suites line the second floor, all looking down on the dance floor below. The floor to ceiling windows give us a bird’s eye view of the place. With the hypnotic beat of the music and the continuous sway of the bodies below, my insides long to dance with them.

The rooms have different music playing in the background and it’s quiet enough to talk. The atmosphere up here is much different than downstairs.

Aiden and Liv are curled up on the couch together, laughing. She sees us enter, and winks, while Aiden looks up and blushes a bit. I’d like to be a fly on the wall and listen to their conversation. Liv is working him good.

Duane and I decide to sit at the bar lining the window to look out. The stool is high off the ground, and I grumble heaving myself up, which Duane finds extremely funny. I shoot him a pointed look and he sputters his whiskey a bit, causing it to dribble a bit down his lip.

Such a silly thing to do, and yet, I find him striking. He’s real. I touch his chin, and catch the alcohol with my finger, bringing it to my mouth. The rich, dark liquid slides down my finger and I wrap my lips around my entire finger and suck the tip in a sultry way that makes Duane’s eyes go wide. Whiskey has never been my go-to drink. In fact, I don’t like it at all, but the essence of Duane’s delectable skin combined with the flavor of the malty liquid makes for an additive drink I’d partake in for the rest of my life.

I’d be drunk, but I’d be happy.

A popping noise sounds when I slide my finger out of my mouth, and Duane crosses and uncrosses his legs, almost in anguish. I’m starting to feel brave, and seeing his reaction makes me even more courageous. I slip my hand up his leg to his bulge and give him a little squeeze. His skin is on fire underneath his slacks, and my body shivers. God, how long have we been here?

His cock twitches under my hand and I have to let go before I do something I consider very personal in a very public place. We may have the suite to ourselves, but I don’t need to give Liv and Aiden a free show. I sit back in my seat and fan my face. Seeing what I do to him makes stopping that much harder.

Another fucking innuendo
.

Mother-flipping shit. This is getting out of hand.

Duane’s face is flush and his breathing rugged. Unable to stop myself, I bring my hand to his face and rub my thumb under his eye while he attempts to control himself. He closes his eyes and hums slightly. Touching him helps me calm my own nerves.

When Duane finally opens his eyes, they shine bright gold and he smiles. “You might be the devil, you know that?”

I look to the side and snicker. “And here you thought, I was this good girl. Well Cowboy, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’ve got quite a dirty mind. Not having sex for seven years will do that to you.”

As the words slip out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. My mouth forms into a firm, thin line as Duane’s mouth falls open.

“You—you,” he stutters, “you haven’t had sex in seven years? How is that possible?”

I shrug my shoulder in nonchalance. “After Kyle, I just couldn’t do it, you know? There was never a guy I felt compelled to be with.” I stop to stare into his eyes. “That is, until you,” I declare.

Duane quickly moves, with no hesitation and pulls me into a bone-crushing hug and kisses my hair. “And I’m so fucking happy you do,” he assures.