He laughs and holds his hands up. “She seems cool, that’s all.” He shrugs. “Seems like she could be good for you.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t see her storming away and locking herself in her room like a total drama queen.”
“After you pulled something stupid, I assume?”
I frown as Kyle rolls his eyes at my silence.
“You got the part where she’s my employee, right?”
He gives me a look. “Oh, that’s the issue here, huh?”
I flip him off. “I do have lines I don’t cross, you know.”
Kyle hoots. “Married women, groupie skanks, that professor of ours back in college - oh, the barely legal junior commissioner’s daughter?” He scratches his head and gives me a faux-sympathetic look. “Sorry, was there a line there somewhere I missed?”
I scowl at him.
“Just sayin’, man,” he says with a shrug. “Might be nice to stop pulling the same shit everyone expects you to pull. Aim higher, man.”
I raise a brow at him. “Nice pep talk, really.”
He grins and shakes his head. “Sorry. Look, ignore me man. I’m the guy that’s about to go home and code until five o’clock in the morning.”
“Rookie! Let’s go!” Eli hollers at me from the door to the club.
Kyle claps me on the back. “Go out and have fun, man.”
Gee, thanks.
The problem is, he’s right, and I know it.
The problem is that the whole limo-ride over to this new club - with two scantily clad models, or actresses or whatever the fuck they are squirming on my lap - him being right and who he’s right about is the only thing playing through my head.
And I’m very quickly not feeling this at all.
The same two girls are all over me once we’re in the next club - dragging me out to the dance floor and grinding against me. One’s got her lips on my neck while the other one starts to pull my hand under her skirt.
And all I can think about is Natalie, and the other night.
“She’s not wearing any panties.”
“Huh?”
I blink back to the here and now, there on the dance floor of that shitty club. The girl at my neck giggles this awful laugh as she leans into my ear again. “She’s not wearing any panties,” she whispers again, nodding at the other girl grinding on me trying to pull my hand under her skirt. The girl at my neck traces her fingernails across my chest through my shirt. “Neither am I,” she husks.
Fuck this. I can’t do this.
I pull away from the two girls. “Maybe some other time, honey,” I mumble, ignoring the looks they give me. “You know, poor Daryl over there is going through a divorce, why don’t you go say hi to him?” I nod towards my teammate who already has four club-girls all over him before I turn and just walk away.
And part of it is press, sure…at least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I grit my teeth and storm out of the club. Part of it is wondering about whatever pictures will show up on gossip blogs or on Facebook or whatever of me cavorting around drunk at some party with an armful of scantily clad girls when I’m supposed to be a newly minted married man.
But that’s really all secondary bullshit, and I know it. Because I’m not thinking about the girls all over this club that’ll say yes to whatever I ask.
I’m thinking of the girl in my house that keeps saying no.
I’m thinking of my wife.
And this is a problem Because this whole thing is supposed to give the appearance of me being less of a pussy-chasing horn-dog, not actually stopping me. But somehow, for whatever bewildering reason, Natalie Ames is in deep.
And I want to go deeper.
I want more, now.
I want to feel her, skin-to-skin, with those long legs wrapped around my waist. I want to feel her honey dripping down my cock as she rides me, and I want to watch her face go to pieces as I slip those legs over my shoulders and fuck her hard and deep.
Hell, I’m paying her enough.
The thought stings through my head like a bard, and I scowl as I slam the door to my Vanquish shut.
Fuck no.
She’s right. The idea of that being some sort of trade-off for the money makes the whole thing sound sordid and dirty - and not in a good way. And besides that, I’m sure as hell not paying for sex.
I mean please, it’s me.
I don’t pay to get laid, and especially not when it’s my damn wife.
So, Natalie wants to say no because of the money, even though its fucking obvious how much we both want this?
I grin as I turn on the car and rev the engine.
Sounds like a challenge. And if she thinks I’m the kind of guy that shies away from a challenge, well, she hasn’t been paying attention.