Beckett and I both shake our heads, but we’re smiling. We’re happy for our brothers finding their women. Hell, we love Jordyn and Quinn. But damn, I can’t imagine being so unhinged and completely fucking obsessed with one person like they are. It would be nice as hell, though, to feelsomething. Even if it is only for one night.
I let myself ease into it, slowly allowing the alcohol to relax me while I watch bodies moving on the dance floor. When I check the VIP section, Xander and Quinn are no longer there, and I’d bet my entire fortune that he took her home for the night. Beckett and Caleb are mid-conversation with a few women as I check my phone for anything pressing.
Beckett: Put your fucking phone away and stop checking on work. Have another drink.
I smirk when the text comes through and glance at Beckett before I slide my phone into my pocket and take off for the bar.
The music thumps, vibrating through my chest, as I pass by part of the dance floor, weaving through a sea of people. A whiff of something sweet, yet gentle, makes me slow my step for just a second, looking around for wherever that smell is coming from. It’s too dark in this area to see anything other than the neon-lit walls lined with hundreds of bottles of alcohol.
As soon as I approach the bar, one of the bartenders notices me and stops what he’s doing. “Evening, Mr. Savage. Whiskey neat?”
I meet his gaze and nod, then slide a hundred across to him. “Thank you.”
Sometimes, I feel guilty about the way people feel they need to act around us. We’re not terrible men, my brothers and I. We’re not great, either. But we’re loyal to a fault. If someone is good to us, we’re generally good to them.
The urge to pull my phone out and check my emails irritates me. Knowing Beckett will call me out on it if I do also pisses me off. Fucker notices too much. He plays dumb, but Beckett sees everything.
That soft, sweet scent hits me again, and the next thing the bartender says makes me go completely still.
CHAPTER 2
Lacey
“Ace!”
I grin through the pain at Stanley as he watches me approach. When he gives me a once-over, his eyebrows dip with concern.
“You good, Ace?” he shouts as he sets a cold bottle of water on the bar for me, on autopilot.
My bracelets sparkle under the different lights as I twist off the cap. “Yeah, I’m good.”
I’ll pay for it tomorrow, but for now, I’m so, so good.
As I gulp down the water, goosebumps creep up my spine, and when I glance to my right, I meet the darkest set of eyes I’ve ever seen.
He stares at me, not trying to hide it even a tiny bit. I almost let my shoulders drop so I can curl into myself, but then I remember who I am and why I’m here. I’m done making myself small.
Next to him, though, it’s easy to feel tiny.
Jesus, Lord, have mercy on my vagina.
I’ve never thought of size difference to be such a turn on before, but now I’m thirty pounds heavier, I love that he isn’t the type of man I’m used to. I’ve spent my life dancing with leanmen, and this guy definitely doesn’t fit that description. Broad, tall, dark, and incredibly hot. And his suit is clearly expensive and designer. As he reaches for his glass, the sleeve of his jacket fits so perfectly, it’s no doubt custom-tailored. This man has money, and I bet he has a lot of it.
I let my gaze fall to his ring finger because, while I might be committed to living my best life, I still have morals. Ink covers the back of his hands and all his knuckles, but there’s no ring on his left hand. Only ink that looks like it spells out a word. More dark lines peek out of the collar of his shirt, covering his neck up to where his beard starts under his square jaw.
Heat spreads through me, overshadowing the burning ache in my hip. When he doesn’t say anything, I smile and move away from the bar to go back to dancing like I’d planned to do before I was eye-fucked by the hottest stranger I’ve ever seen.
Even as I distance myself from him, my heart pounds quickly, and I swear, Ifeelhis eyes on me. Watching.
Heading toward the group of girls I was dancing near earlier, I join in again, swaying my hips to Shakira. Lights spin overhead, while people laugh and drink, enjoying their time in Sin City.
When the next song starts, I close my eyes and let the beat take over my body. My leg burns, but I can’t stop. Some people drink to deal with life. Some smoke. Or work out. Or shop. Me? I dance. And even though life has been pretty damn good lately, I need this.
I turn and let my eyes flutter open, going still for a moment as, directly in front of me, at the edge of the dance floor, is that same hot man, staring at me like I’m the only one in the whole club.
The hairs on my arms rise as goosebumps prickle over my skin. Why is he looking at me like that?
Someone bumps into me from behind, mumbling an apology as they do, but the surprise impact pushes me forward. The curly-haired hottie scowls at the people at my back and then glances back at me, his expression softening. He tips his head to the side, his eyes narrowed in on me, his jaw clenched.
