Dancing helps me clear my head. It’s just too bad that Kota needed an extra body on the floor tonight. I need the release. I need that unhurried moment where I can just let my mind go blank, let my thoughts drift into nothing while I move my body.
Mirage is hosting a party tonight. Some guy is getting married and this is where he’s decided to have his bachelor party. I wonder if his fiancée knows what he’s doing and what kind of place this is. The kind of services a man can pay for that go beyond a simple drink.
Not that I care. I’m here to make money, not solve personal problems. Lord knows I have enough of my own.
Navigating the congested floor, I hold a tray full of empties high and weave past the tables. The club is louder than usual tonight. The men have grown rowdier with each passing hour. I’ve never seen it like this before, and if it weren’t for Kota and the beefy guards positioned at every corner and exit, I might be scared. But this is the safest place I can be right now.
Reaching the back of the bar, I dispose of the empty bottles in the garbage and return the used glasses to the dish washer. Poor Bernice has already run the damn thing five times tonight and looks exhausted. However, she’s moving with a speed and agility the rest of us can only aspire to.
“If you need more glasses,” she says when she notices me standing behind her, “there’s a fresh stock under the bar. Be careful, though, they’re still hot.”
I tip my head in confirmation as I take a drink of water from a glass I’ve stashed beside the ice bin. I’m looking out over the club, scanning the patrons through the blanket of dark that’s occasionally broken up by colored strobe lights, when I see him.
Rebel sits at a two-top near the back, but much closer to the action than normal. I assume with the chaos, he wasn’t able to get his usual seat. He appears relaxed, in his element, and those dark, hawk-like eyes are fixed on me.
I wonder how long he’s been here, and how long he’s been watching me. When I survey his table, I don’t see his usual drink, so it must not have been long.
“He’s got it bad for you.”
My gaze switches to Bernice, who is busy filling drink orders. Still, she somehow has the time to keep track of my love life. I shake my head as I retrieve a clean tumbler and drop a couple cubes of ice into the bottom.
“He’s been here nearly every night this week, and he’s not here for the shows,” she continues.
I don’t like how observant she is, but I have to admit, I do like the thrill that rushes through me at her words. It feels good to know he wants me and that it isn’t just my imagination. I’m not putting more into it than there is. Rebel wouldn’t spend his evenings chasing after me if he wasn’t serious about catching me.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Pouring two fingers of scotch, I return the bottle to the top shelf and retrieve the glass. “I guess we’ll find out,” I say, winking at her as I walk away.
My eyes fix on Rebel as I sashay my way toward him. I love how his dark eyes betray him. They skate over me, drinking me in, in a way that would be inappropriate if we were anywhere else. Ignoring the shiver of pleasure that traces down my spine, I set the glass down in front of him.
His mouth curves up in a slow smirk as he reaches for it, and even though I know I should, I can’t seem to make myself walk away. I watch, fascinated, as he brings the glass to his full lips and takes a drink. His throat is thick and covered in day-old scruff, and when he swallows, I imagine running my tongue down it, tasting the hint of salt and cologne on his skin.
“You remembered.” His voice is a deep husk that travels straight to my core. I could pretend to be unaffected, but we both know it would be a lie.
“How could I forget?” I say casually. “You’re a man of habit.”
He considers this, that sexy smile still in place. “What are you doing the rest of the evening, Josephine?”
“Work, home, bed, in that order,” I say, my mood shifting on a dime. I’m not interested in playing games tonight. I especially am not interested in dealing with Rebel and his dominate, overbearing attitude. As hot as I used to find that—and still do, if I’m being honest—I’m still sore over his behavior at his parents’ house over the weekend.
Rebel treated me like a pawn in a game of chess. He was so busy trying to outplay his brother he forgot that I am a human being with feelings. I know I can’t keep this side of my life a secret forever, but when it finally does come out, I want it to be on my terms. What I don’t want is for the information to be used as leverage, which is exactly what Rebel did.
Rebel’s hand glides across my hip and around my back, drawing me closer until my stomach is flush with his thigh and he has to tilt his head back to look at me. “When you say bed, I assume you mean mine.”
A bitter laugh escapes me and I shake my head. “That’s not how this goes, remember? Complete anonymity?”
His eyes darken, turning into turbulent pools of night. “That was before,” he drawls. Behind me, his hand presses against my back, his thumb slipping beneath the tight fabric of my shirt to caress my heated flesh. “Before the names, before you showed up in my home. Before you fucked my brother.” That last bit is full of bitterness and hatred, and I step back, breaking our connection.
If Rebel is angry, I don’t want to be anywhere near him. He’s always struck me as the dark and dangerous type, and tonight, he’s playing the role well. If he goes off, I intend to be miles away from the detonation site.
Despite my uneasiness, I harden my voice. “If you intend to continue holding that over my head, don’t bother coming here anymore. I won’t be punished for something that was out of my control.”
His eyes narrow and, slowly, Rebel stands. He advances and for every step he takes, I take one back. There is a dark promise in his eyes, and even though warning bells are clanging in my head, my body is reacting. My blood simmers and my skin grows tighter as he closes in on me. We’re in a public place. Rebel won’t hurt me, but past experience dictates that he won’t be stopped from doing other things.
Spinning on my heel, I decide to get away from him as fast as I can. He may frequent Mirage, but I work here. I know this place better than him, and even if it’s not any kind of fortress, there are areas he’s not allowed.
I see Big John stationed at the opening to the hallway leading to the dressing room, and I make a beeline for him. If I can reach him, John will bar Rebel from following me.
I don’t reach him.
Rebel grabs hold of my wrists and pulls on it hard enough to make me lose my balance. I fall back against his chest, and his arms wrap around me, holding on tight. Lowering his head, his lips graze my ear as he speaks. “Don’t you know chasing my dinner only makes me want to devour it more?”
“Get off me, Rebel. I mean it.” I don’t. My voice is embarrassingly breathy. My blood is on fire. Having his hard body pressed up against mine, his heat scalding my skin through our layers of clothing, the sound of his voice in my ear coupled with the words he says, makes my knees shake.
“Come now, you and I both know that’s not what you really want. Just look at you, Josephine,” he purrs into my ear. “Even from this angle, I can see how your skin has turned that pretty pink whenever you get aroused. And your nipples—they’ve grown hard. I can see them poking through your shirt. So tell me, if I put my hand between your legs, would you be wet for me?”
His words never cease to stir the sex-hungry, wanton woman inside me. I crave to let him touch me, to taste him in return. Then reality sets in. The pounding pulse of music floods my ears and I remember where we are: In the middle of the club, surrounded by people.
Wrenching away from him, I swing around and level Rebel with a hard look. “Leave.”
His eyes flash. I can see the exact moment he reaches his decision, and I hold my ground as he steps closer, his body so close to mine we touch from chest to thigh. He stares off somewhere over my head as he speaks. “I’m leaving, Josephine, but only because that bouncer looks like he’s ready to draw blood. But before I go, I want you to know one thing. This isn’t over. Not even close. I want you at my place tonight, in my bed.”
I scoff, ready to tell him where he can stick his commands, when his eyes cut to mine, shutting me up instantly. “You will be there,” he tells me softly, but the undercurrent of warning is there. “If you go against my wishes, you won’t like the results. Are we clear?”
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. Rebel is a pushy bastard. Unlike his brother, who is somewhat malleable, Rebel is a dictator. What he says goes. If I allow it, without a doubt, he won’t hesitate to run over me. I don’t want to listen to him, but it’s impossible not to. A part of me is desperate to please him, to reap the rewards of making a man like him happy. Because, despite all the reasons I should be running from him, there’s something deep inside Rebel that makes me want to stay. He’s not the hard, cruel man he projects. I’ve caught hints of a softer side, and I’m game to draw it out of hiding.
“Are. We. Clear?”
His hard, commanding voice shakes me from my thoughts. I nod once and watch as Rebel’s smile returns. It’s harsh and cruel and full of dark promises, but it floods me with excitement.
Lifting his hand, Rebel’s eyes search mine as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and tugs my head back. My heart beats hard against my ribcage and when he lowers his mouth to mine, tracing my lips with his velvet tongue, I nearly combust. His lips hover over mine, his tongue licking me, taunting me with the promise of more. The kiss isn’t a kiss, but a taste of what’s to come.
He knows what he’s doing to me, and when he lifts his head, I can see the glimmer of wicked delight in his eyes. A sharp burst of pain explodes across my scalp when he gives my hair a hard pull. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Releasing me, Rebel smoothes his suit jacket with a single, sharp tug, and then he turns and walks away.