Trey squeezed between Reagan and Ethan, wrapping his arms around both of them. "I guess the band's all here now."
"One big, happy family," Reagan murmured, kissing Trey's smiling lips. Ethan's lips brushed his temple. Ethan squeezed Trey and Reagan together, lifting them several inches off the floor in his powerful embrace.
Sinners had always been a family and it still was. Only now it was an extended family. With less beer. And more love.
Read on for a sneak peek at the next from
Sinners on Tour: Hot Ticket
by Olivia Cunning
Available February 2013 from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Within seconds of meeting a man, Aggie could assign him to one of two lists.
List A: Men Not Worth My Time.
List B: Men I'd Like to Fuck.
List A grew in length every hour she worked at the nightclub, Paradise Found. She couldn't remember the last time a man had landed himself on List B.
That might explain why Aggie dropped her bullwhip when he caught her attention. Whoever he was. Potential List B strode across the floor as if he owned the place. He had that stereotypical bad boy look-leather, tattoos, and a giant chip on his shoulder-which was contradicted by the sweetest face she'd ever seen. When he took a seat at the table closest to her stage, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankle, as if he planned to stay for a while.
Interesting. And entirely fuckable.
Sipping his beverage, Angel Face gazed up at her with an odd gleam of challenge in his dark eyes. Something about him had her instantly thinking naughty thoughts. Only half of them involved inflicting pain on his tight body. Oh, the guy was a looker, no denying that, but that wasn't his main appeal. Strange thing was she didn't know what set him apart from the other nightclub patrons. Perhaps she needed a new list just for him.
Temporary List C: Men I Can't Instantly Label. She had no doubt that this list's only assignee would quickly land himself on List A. In no way would she ever consider a customer List B potential. It didn't matter how attractive he was.
Aggie retrieved her bullwhip from the stage floor (how embarrassing) and cracked it next to Hottie's cheek. He didn't flinch. His body tensed, but not with fear. From the slight gasp he emitted and the flutter of his lashes, she could tell her threat turned him on.
Most men liked to watch Aggie's routine from the shadows and think they could take her abuse. Trying to show their toughness, they chose the dominatrix in leather to entertain them at Paradise Found, but few sat within striking distance of her bullwhip. Not that she'd actually hit anyone at the club. If a man wanted her to punish him for being born with a Y chromosome, he had to pay extra.
Aggie drew her arm back and lashed her whip at the new arrival's cheek again. The leather snapped centimeters from his skin. She was satisfied when he didn't flinch this time either. Oh Lord, he'd be fun to break. It had been forever since she'd had a real challenge in her dungeon.
He stared directly into her eyes as she danced closer. He looked quite young-mid-twenties, maybe-but he had eyes wise beyond his years. She'd bet he'd seen a lot of tragedy in his life. Many of those who sought her for release had.
The young man beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. Surprised, she arched a brow at him and glanced at Eli, the bouncer who stood near the stage. She wasn't supposed to discuss her side business at the club. As far as her coworkers were concerned, Aggie's dominatrix routine was entirely an act. Later, when she moved to the floor to interact with customers on a more personal basis, she would slip her card to potential slaves, but her stage set wasn't over yet. She needed to concentrate on her dancing and not daydream about making some tough-looking, übercutie her bitch.
Aggie hooked her leg around a silver pole and twirled around it, her long, black hair flying out behind her. When she stopped, she found the guy had vacated his chair and was standing against the stage at her feet. He pulled a bill from his back pocket and held it out to her between two fingers. Hello, C-note. Mama needs a new pair of boots.
Holding onto the pole with one hand, she leaned toward the customer, offering the tops of her full breasts to his view. His gaze shifted to her bare skin, and he drew his tongue over his upper lip. Usually, one guy looked as mundane as another to her, but she took in every inch of this one, from his heavy black boots to his spiked platinum blond hair. Dark eyes. Dark eyebrows. Dark beard stubble. The hint of a tattoo revealed itself above the neckline of his T-shirt. A studded leather band adorned his right wrist. He looked hard and tough, yet saccharine sweet at the same time. A hell's angel, heavy on the angel. She wondered if his beard stubble was an attempt to cover up that undeniably cute face of his.