Prologue
Rex
“Scotch, neat, best you have.”
Dropping my carry-on to the floor, I slump down on the stool at the packed airport bar and release a heavy sigh. Pulling at the tie around my neck, loosening it finally like I have wanted to for hours, I close my eyes and crack my neck from side to side.
I won’t lie and say it wasn’t a nice wedding. After all, it’s not every day you stand next to your best friend and wish him good luck, a lifetime of joy, and all that other bullshit women love to believe in.
Eva looked gorgeous, too. The pair are a perfect match for one another, and shit if I’m not damn glad their endless fighting and running from one another is finally over.
For now, at least.
The bartender pours my drink, and I give the bastard a slightly dirty look, knowing he didn’t pour enough.
Glancing up, I hiss, “Make it a double.”
He rolls his eyes, before continuing to pour and then walks away. Taking the glass, I welcome the rich, strong, smoky flavor as it rolls down the back of my throat.
Who the hell gets married in February?
It snowed yesterday, it snowed today, and it’s bound to snow tomorrow, too. In fact, it’s still snowing. I glance up at the plane arrivals and takeoffs, and worry I might get delayed.
I can’t be delayed. I have to get back to the West Coast and meet Michael for some ridiculous meeting between partners about franchising another club God only knows where.
Some days, I think about getting out of the club business altogether. Then, I head back to Nashville, or stop at our original stomping ground in Auburn, California, and it all comes rushing back—why I like the fast-paced nightlife too much.
I’m not sure I can ever leave it all behind.
“Shit,” a familiar voice says behind me.
An all too familiar voice that always grabs a hold of that damn place deep inside my soul that makes me think of forever afters, weddings, good luck, a lifetime of joy. I turn to see Gwen standing a few feet off, looking at the takeoff and arrival times I was just glancing at. I lick my lips as my eyes run the length of her delicious body.
Thank you, Eva, for picking out those bridesmaid dresses.
Damn.
I couldn’t help but notice all night how the tight red fabric clung to Gwen’s curves like a second skin as she danced for hours on end at the reception. Her sensual display gave me a fucking hard-on I’ve debated taking care of for hours now.
But fuck, not even my hand proves able to take care of the need only she can quench.
She puts down her bag, pulls off her coat, and my mouth salivates. The strap on her right shoulder falls, exposing her porcelain skin. Her nipples poke through the thin, silk fabric and my cock stirs.
She pulls the strap back up and huffs a little, stomping her foot, which makes my grin grow. Her dark red hair flows down her back, and all I can think about is how I want my hands in it. How I want it wrapped around my fist like I want her wrapped around my throbbing cock.
“Excuse me,” she asks the bartender, motioning towards the flight schedule now updating at lightning fast pace. “Do you know if this is correct?”
“Should be,” he says flippantly before turning and ringing up a new order.
She starts to sulk, and I can’t help but think about how badly I want to reprimand her for her attitude. Take her over my knee and spank her fine ass before I do things to her I’ve been fantasizing about for the last ten years. My mind drifts back to a 16-year-old Gwen, gorgeous and daring as hell in bed. I bet the woman standing before me now would blow anything sexy little Gwendolyn did back in the day out of the damn water.
Her eyes meet mine for the first time. I raise my glass and take a sip of scotch to keep my mouth busy. Like always, I figure this is about to go one of two ways. First, she can blow me off and run that feisty little mouth of hers I want to fill with my cock so badly. Or, her sweet and innocent side might show up, and I’ll have to hide the bulge I already feel growing in my slacks if she comes over and sits with me.
She smiles, and carnal need almost takes over and has me reaching out to do things to her my mind hasn’t even registered yet. She pouts a sexy little pout and sticks her bottom lip out.
Fuck.
I have to rotate around to face the bar and think about my grandmother, count to ten, do anything to get that image out of my head.
