Her hand reaches up, and my shoulders automatically tense. The instinct of stepping back is overwritten by me shifting my weight evenly between both feet. I follow the movement she executes with such confidence I can feel my hold over her slipping. Breathless anticipation makes it hard to inhale. When her palm touches the side of my neck, her thumb slowly strokes up and down. The soft pad of her finger caresses my flitting pulse. I hold myself immobile, waiting for her next move.
She rises on her tiptoes until her lips align with my ear. "I fully intend to," she answers my earlier challenge. She drops back down, swivels on her heels, and strolls down the hallway. Her hips sway, making the feathers fan out. Her perfect ass is on full display, and my jeans become too tight within seconds.
I jam my hands into my front pockets, forcing the already too-small cock space to become even smaller. We are not going to go there. Again.
Oh, we so are.FUCK!
I hold my breath at the painful constriction until she's out of sight. Exhaling in excruciating slowness, I pull my hands out of their confinement at the same time and rake them through my hair.
I challenged her, and she retaliated. Is this how it is now? And why do I like it? I shouldn't. But Denielle holding her own after all these years, even pushing back, stirs something alive in me. Something that had been dormant for a very long time.
When I regain some control, I stalk after them.
We always have the same private suite on the upper level of the club. The VIP areas are all separated from each other, with a small balcony opening to the dance floor below. Every so often, Lilly wants to be with the masses, but in general, she's content up here.
Bass thuds through the walls.
Aw, fuck. It's techno night.
The Club alternates between the different styles of music to please all its clientele. Lilly doesn't usually favor artificially produced tunes, but there is also no way she wasn't aware.
I find them, as expected, in our suite. Ethan has positioned himself next to the door. He side-eyes me when I enter before glancing toward our employers. Lilly and Denielle are in front of the balustrade, taking selfies with the crowd in the background. Rhys stands off to the side, engrossed in something on his phone.
"What's your deal tonight?" Ethan whisper-shouts at me, not averting his gaze from our charges. Following the rise of Keller's bird garment whenever she leans over to fit into the picture, I didn't notice he had stepped closer.
"I have no idea what you mean." Like hell I will admit to him that my cock wants a second round at the brunette in front of us while my brain still shouts insults at me.
"Sure you don't," he muses, retaking his post.
My fingers curl inward.
Fucking great.
For the next hour,Lilly and Denielle dance together, separate and with Rhys in the middle. The three are letting loose, and while I enjoy seeing Lilly and Rhys carefree, the opposite applies to the third person in front of me. With every shake of Keller's hips, the curve of her cheeks is on full display. My body vibrates from the craving to dig my fingers into the flesh of her ass, leaving marks and branding her with my touch, while I repeat every reason—the one reason—why this can never happen again. Is she attractive? Sure. Did her pussy feel like she was made for my cock? That would be an unwelcome hell to the yes. But did she also cause me to lose the only family I cared for?
Lilly sips on a flute of champagne, Rhys has a beer in hand that can buy me three cases in the store, and Keller has moved on to a bottle of mid-80s Bollinger. I check the time on my phone and skim over the messages I missed when something brushes my elbow.
I jerk my head around and latch on to Denielle's upper arm as she stumbles past me. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
She tries to rip out of my grasp, but my hold is stronger. There is no fear, no terror like when her ex manhandled her.
"I have to pee. Let the fuck go, Baxter." She tugs harder, and I appease her, dropping my hand.
"Use the bathroom across the hall," I order, and she purses her lips. I wait for a retort, but instead, she just turns and hightails it out, supporting herself against the frame before she disappears. Someone should probably go with her, or she'll break an ankle in her deathtrap footwear.
Ethan looks up from playing on his phone. Up here, we don't have to be on full alert. We have access to The Club's security cameras and get alerts about suspicious activity—a perk not every VIP has, but Lilly had a hand in it.
"Why do you hate Keller? It's been like that for years, and she's never done anything to you."
My stomach drops at Ethan's question. For years, I've been careful to keep my distance from Denielle for precisely that reason. Lately, my emotions control my actions. It used to be sole loathing, but my brain and dick are no longer on the same page, not even on the same bookshelf.
"That's none of your business." My voice is steady, and as my subordinate, he knows that means he's in trouble. None of this is his fault, but the rising pressure in my veins makes it hard to temper myself. I rarely get loud with my guys. Having trained underThe Ghost, I learned the calmer you are, the more fear you instill in your opponent. They expect to evoke an emotion from you. Anger. Fear. Whatever their objective. But if there is nothing, when they don't achieve their goal, you have the upper hand. And I always have the upper hand.
Except when it comes to Denielle Keller.
Ethan clamps his mouth shut, nods, and sidles over to Rhys. They exchange a few words before he returns to his spot. "Lilly and Rhys are ready to head out."
I tilt my wrist and press the side button of my Garmin. "Copy. We'll leave as soon as Keller is back."