Asking for Trouble(46)

Before the elevator could close, he stuck his hand in between the doors to stop their progress and got on, impatiently pressing the lobby button. He started with the bar closest to where he’d seen her re-enter on the casino level. Gypsy Bar. Blaring music and laughter greeted him when he walked inside. When the doorman asked for his ID, Brent gave him a look that said seriously man? And kept walking.

He checked the bar area first, not finding her there. Early on a Saturday night, the room hadn’t yet filled to capacity, but was still reasonably busy. Several customers were already dancing, Brent noticed. Then he did a double take. Hayden, drink in hand, danced in the middle of a large group like her life depended on it. Arms in the air, hips twisting. He’d never seen her look so uninhibited apart from their one night together when she’d transformed before his very eyes. As Brent moved closer, he saw that her skin was rosy and slightly dewy from exertion, the blue dress clinging to her curves as she moved her hips to the rhythm. Her hair had finally given up its battle with perfection, curling at the ends, a dark wave coming down to obscure half her face. She looked how he imagined she would if he ever got her into bed again. Without a time limit or any ridiculous rules. He got hard thinking about it. Watching her dip and sway, he imagined her on top of him instead, riding out her orgasm with the use of his body.

If you stand here ogling her like a jackass any longer, you’ll embarrass yourself. Not to mention, he wasn’t the only male who’d taken notice of Hayden. When one such guy elbowed his buddy and nodded in Hayden’s direction, Brent’s feet were moving purposefully toward her before he’d even made a conscious decision. When he got within five feet, she looked up as if she’d sensed him. Heat thrummed low in his belly when he got a close look at her. Perfectly polished Hayden made him hot, but this girl…fuck, she burned him from the inside.

She’d always accused him of being a caveman. Right now, he could freely admit she’d been right. A furious, pounding need began inside him. Something about her lost expression, her defenselessness, called to that deeply primal part of him. The one that demanded he throw her over his shoulder and take her home so he could pleasure her, see to her needs, until she fell asleep and forgot why she’d been troubled in the first place. When she woke up again, he’d be inside her. Between thrusts, he’d gladly inform her that her man had taken care of her problems, just like he always would. Then he’d fuck her back to sleep.

Eyes scanning his face, her lips parted just slightly, telling him he’d done a poor job of hiding his inner thoughts. He didn’t care. The caveman was rearing its head, urging him to rip off his shirt and let her look her fill. Let her see who’d come to take her to bed. The protector in him demanded answers. Demanded he find out why she’d been crying. Find out what could possibly put that forlorn expression on her face, distress her to the point she felt compelled to act out this way. So unlike her usual self.

He sensed, however, that an interrogation was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to tame the caveman, he opened his arms, relieved when she simply walked into them. She stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, stretching her body flush against his, and he held her, swaying them on the dance floor.

After a few minutes of silence between them, she spoke haltingly next to his ear. “I’m so happy for Daniel and Story, you know. So happy. I just…” Her fingers slid into his hair and his eyes shut. Brent could hear the ever-so-slight running together of her words and put her at about four drinks. Not drunk exactly, but her decisions would be influenced. He needed to remember that. “But it must be amazing, you know? Getting exactly what you always wanted. Having so much…control of your future.”

Brent frowned against her head. If anything, a girl like Hayden, money and influence coming out of her ears, got any damn thing she wanted. He focused on the second half of what she said instead. “Who’s got you feeling out of control, duchess?”

Hayden shook her head, knocking against his chin in a way he found so endearing, his throat hurt.

“Tell me so I can set them straight.”

She looked up at him then, all traces of vulnerability gone. He recognized that look. She’d worn it the night she cuffed him and slowly stripped herself of clothes, and him of his sanity. She wanted to distract him from his questions and…shit. It worked. As her attention snagged on his mouth, her body slid down low, pressing firmly into his on the way back up. He couldn’t stop himself from tilting his hips so she could feel what she’d done to him. Her fingers traced over his shoulders and down his chest, undoing the top button of his shirt, then she kissed the exposed flesh. She traced a path with her lips up his neck and over his chin, ending where their mouths met. Brent kissed her hungrily, starved for the taste of her, his inner caveman pounding his chest again as he claimed her as his own in the middle of the dance floor. When she moaned in her throat and shuddered, he reluctantly pulled away.