Dylan slurred, “was made for one thing, and one thing only—sin.”
Jeremy bobbed his head in agreement. It had been a minute since he’d been up in somebody’s church and he certainly wasn’t interested in being saved tonight. He glanced around, and with a quick eyeball check he was pretty sure that the laughing beauty was drawing nearly every man’s attention. Playing the odds, he knew that if he didn’t bust a move soon, a worthwhile competitor would surely knock him out of the game before he even got up to bat.
“Don’t tell me you ain’t gonna make a move.” Dylan laughed. “I’ve never known you to turn down a challenge.”
Jeremy cut an annoyed look over his way. “Then you know that I’m not going to start tonight.” He twisted his head back toward the floor. “A hunter needs to study his prey before he makes a move.” However, it only took a few seconds for some major action to start happening along the seams of his pants.
His gaze performed another slow drag down her long neck, graceful shoulders and incredibly perky and very real breasts. Every inch of this woman’s body was a work of art. Flat stomach, small waist and an ass he wouldn’t mind spending time bouncing quarters off—or just bouncing off it himself.
That brought a smile to his face.
“She’s got to be an actress. Please say she’s an actress. I’ll make her a star,” Dylan promised.
“Calm down, Lassie,” Jeremy said. “Your bone is showing.”
Dylan glanced down and finally zipped up his pants, but not before peeking into Jeremy’s lap. “Looks like mine isn’t the only one. You might want to hit that with a hammer before you think about standing up.”
Jeremy chuckled, tossed back his drink and then stood up. “Stop hating on the pipes, man, and carry your ass on back to the minor leagues. I got this.”
Chapter 2
“Promiscuous” bumped from the DJ’s speakers and put Leigh Matthews’s body into a trance. A good beat always had that effect on her. And tonight she needed the music to mentally take her to another place.
The men that stepped up to her trying to impress her failed to do just that—mainly because men were the last thing she wanted to deal with. In all honesty, she was sick of the games and the lies. Sure, she got a kick out of it when men approached her and tried to get their bump and grind on. But it never took them long to realize that she wasn’t interested in taking it any further than that. As quick as they rolled up on her, they got dismissed.
Still, there was a certain satisfaction watching them lose their cool when she got her hips dipping and rolling and her ass popping and backing up. She didn’t mind them fantasizing and spitting weak game in her ear. It was good to know that she still had it like that. Lord knew DeShawn had stopped appreciating her and started taking her for granted.
How much longer was she going to put up with it? How much longer was just being his good girl—the one he always relied on to welcome him back with open arms—going to last?
Hell, did she even love him anymore?
Eyes closed, Leigh allowed herself to become one with the music. Her limbs flowed with the melody, while her hips rocked to the hard-driving bass. It wasn’t long before she was turning herself on. She rolled her hands across the top of her chest, then let them flow over her breasts, glide down her hard-earned abs, and then rolled over her hips.
Soon, she forgot about the number of men crowding her space, trying to rock a two-step or the whack-ass “lean back” that didn’t require them to even move their feet. Seriously, if you can’t keep up, then step the hell aside. Not until she could feel the first beads of sweat rolling down her face did she flutter her long lashes open. When she did the sexiest pair of eyes she’d ever seen watched her from across the room.
Dark.
Chocolate.
Hypnotic.
Everything from her toes to her nipples tingled, especially when her gaze expanded to take in the magnificent specimen those eyes belonged to. Good Lord. Am I dreaming? The man was as solid as an African warrior ready to wrestle a lion with his bare hands. The thought of wrestling with him butt-naked with a bottle of baby oil crossed her mind, and then a heat wave flushed her entire body. Maybe tonight she didn’t have to be such a good girl.
Judging by the look in his eyes, her mysterious stranger was thinking the same thing. The question now was what type of games were they going to play before they answered the call of their bodies?
Their gazes still locked from across the room, Leigh rocked her hips and touched her body in a way that one would have to be blind, crippled or crazy not to know what time it was. She tossed her thick hair back, giving him a sneak preview of what she looked like in the throes of passion.
Her smile slid wider as his gaze roamed over every inch of her body. It wasn’t long before the rest of the crowd melted away while she concentrated on giving him his own private dance. It was a tall order, seeing as how she was in a house full of professional strippers and weekend party girls.
She turned, giving her mysterious gawker a backside view of what she was working with. While she worked her hips and jiggled her ass, she still felt her future lover’s gaze caressing her frame. The image of them grinding together in a heated fury made her tits hard as rocks and her bikini bottoms as wet as if she’d just stepped out of the ocean.
Leigh turned to see his face again just as he said something to the dude next to him holding up the bar, before he finally stalked toward her.
He even walked like a man among boys. His gait, long, smooth and sexy as hell, made her knees knock. But it was those dark, penetrating eyes that hypnotized her.
She needed him—wanted him.
When he was just halfway through the crowd, her body caught fire. She was more than willing to bet that nibbling on all that chocolate could send a woman into a diabetic coma. Then again, if a girl’s gotta go, she may as well go out with a smile on her face.
Five feet away— Damn, it didn’t make any sense for a man to be that fine.
Four feet away— Wouldn’t it be hot if he just ripped her clothes off right there in the middle of a crowded room?
Three feet away— Would anyone notice or care if they went at in the middle of the floor like it was the wild kingdom?
Two feet away— If he so much as touched her, she was sure her bikini bottoms were going to be hit with a tsunami of honey.
One foot— His large hand snaked out across her waist and just as expected, her clit exploded and her knees buckled. Luckily for her, she had his broad chest to fall back against while she tried to catch her breath. Damn—a one-touch orgasm. Who would’ve ever thought?
As an added surprise, her future lover was not a simple two-step brother with a bump-and-grind routine. He had skillz—yes, with a Z. He rocked, dipped and moved like he was born on the dance floor. Leigh had long subscribed to the notion that how a man danced was directly correlated with how he performed beneath the sheets.
It wasn’t long before they were moving as one and definitely scorching up the designated dance floor. While a few beads of sweat rolled
