Chapter One
Avery Preston tossed back another shot of a sixty-year-old Macallan, slammed the glass on the table, and scanned the country club ballroom. A band set the stage with a feral beat that surged through his dick, making him wish he was at Pulse, where it was loud and dark and easy.
Instead, the engagement party for his brother Marcus and his soon-to-be sister-in-law Charlotte was winding down, and his options for a hookup were shit.
Friends of the family—off limits. Employees—off limits. Clients—definitely off limits. He’d promised to be on his best behavior.
Too bad Charlotte only had two friends, both beautiful but also off limits. Melody was like a sister to him and had just tied the knot with his brother Spencer. And Kate? Bryce would kick his ass if he so much as looked in her direction, especially after the dumbass had royally fucked up and was at this very moment trying to win her back.
Why did they have to pick Valentine’s Day for this thing? When clubs were filled with hot women trying to forget—or alter—their single status with alcohol or sex…or both.
Avery thrummed the linen-covered table with restless fingers—thump-thump-thump-thump…thump-thump-thump-thump—and eyed the best set of legs he’d seen all night. With a slight tilt of his head, he rocked back in his chair and followed the tight little ass until it disappeared through the servant’s entrance to the kitchen, leaving a faint trace of vanilla—sweet and fucking off limits.
From beside him, Melody’s fingers gripped his jaw and swiveled his head in her direction. “Is it really that hard?”
Always.
The front feet of his chair hit the floor with a thunk, and he started to tease her about her choice of words, but a cocked brow from Spencer hovering over her shoulder had Avery snapping his mouth shut. His days of teasing Melody to make Spencer jealous were over.
“To behave, I mean.” Melody’s glossy pink lips turned down, her disappointment in him cutting deep. “Your mom just wants you to be happy, and Althea’s a nice girl. You didn’t even give her a chance.”
No doubt, he’d hear all about it from his mother tomorrow. With Spencer married, Marcus engaged, and Nick still mourning Julie, their mother had been parading sacrificial virgins in front of Avery, trying to get him to the altar, too. Hell, she was practically throwing them at him, hoping that, like spaghetti on a wall, one would stick. Althea Rutherford was only the latest spaghetti virgin.
Fuck that. “I’m not looking for nice.”Or virginal.
Nice meant settling down. At twenty-six, he wasn’t ready for a picket fence, two-point-five brats, and only one pair of thighs to slide between for the rest of his life. The thought was enough to mentally castrate him.
Cockblocked by his own moral compass. And they thought he didn’t have one.
He glared at Spencer. “You gonna help me out here?”
Spencer held up both hands, palms forward. “Don’t drag me into this.”
Pussy whipped motherfucker.
“You promised to make her feel welcome,” Melody persisted.
“I agreed to entertain her at dinner, and I did. That’s all.” He’d even turned on the charm and made her blush. The forced smiles and polite small talk had drained him dry. There’d been zero spark. Zero challenge. “And I left her surrounded by several potential husbands. I never said I’d be one of them.”
She was pretty enough, striking even, and if he’d met her at Liquid Assets or Pulse, he’d have bought her a drink and flirted his way into her panties. But her father was a giant in the oil industry and a friend of his dad. Rumor had it John Rutherford could shoot the wings off a fly, and throughout the meal, Avery could almost feel the muzzle of a shot gun jammed into his back as the big man stood behind him at the altar.
No fucking thank you.
Thump-thump-thump—
There they were again, gliding past his table. Those legs. That ass, wrapped in a black skirt that careened over slender hips and stopped at mid-thigh. They wove into the crowd before his one-track mind allowed his gaze any higher than the tip of a flaming red braid spearing down her back.
Ah, there we go.
Lifting his hips, he slid deeper into his chair to hide his thickening cock.
Melody’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “You’re incorrigible.”
“But adorable, right?”
That got him a smile and a shake of her head. “I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”
He rubbed the injured rib that didn’t really hurt. “You know I love you, Mel, and until tonight, you’ve been my favorite sister-in-law.”
