“Well, I may not have used those words, exactly.” She sighed. “You don’t understand. The man’s ridiculously gorgeous and he’s nice. Super respectful, but alpha to the bone. I’d just like a taste.”
I glanced back at Jasper and thought I might like a taste as well.
He dragged the man up off the floor, now zip-tied, and as he turned his head, his eyes met mine and I smiled, but when he smiled back, I was pretty sure my panties melted right off my body.
“Letti,” Everly snapped.
“What? Sorry. I was distracted by the catnip.”
Polly nodded slowly. “Right? God, he’s perfect.”
“Is he a biker?” I asked.
Polly frowned. “I don’t think so. He drives a truck. Why?”
Everly chuckled. “Because Violet doesn’t want anything to do with her father’s business.”
“Is your father a biker?”
“You could say that,” Everly retorted. “Sexy as hell biker. Talk about wanting to rub up against—”
“Oh my god, stop,” I hissed.
“And then her brothers,” Everly started up again. “They are—”
“Enough, Ev,” I snapped. “Jesus, put your lady dick back in your pants.”
“I’m not wearing pants...ies, but I’ll try to contain myself.”
“You’re not wearing pantsies?” I retorted.
Polly laughed. “You two crack me up, but I need to get back to work. Want another?”
I raised my almost empty glass. “Absolutely.”
“Let’s dance,” Everly demanded, sliding out of the booth, and I finished my drink and followed her.
For the next twenty minutes, we danced until I could barely breathe, and I bowed out even though Everly decided to stay on the floor for the next song.
I walked back to our table to find it had been taken over by a couple of douchebags we’d walked in with. Even though I know they saw us take the table, it was a nightclub, so unless someone stayed behind to watch it, it was open season on seating.
Well, shit.
“Hey, gorgeous, you wanna share the table?” Douchebag number one asked.
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
“Come on now. We saw you walk in alone. We’ll protect you,” Douchebag number two crooned.
I shook my head. “We’re good, thanks.”
“Fuck off.”
I turned to the sound of the growly voice and raised an eyebrow. Jasper stood in front of the table, hands crossed in front of him, glaring at the douchebags squatting at our table.
“Who the hell are you to tell us what to do?” Douchebag number two sneered.
“Management,” he said. “If you don’t want to be hauled out of here by your dick, I’d suggest you find a different table.”
