smile frozen on his face, he watched her sashay away. Theo’s low whistle broke him out of his trance.
“Guess you’re leaving, then?” Theo grinned at him before pulling the woman next to him in close to nuzzle her hair. Jo rolled her eyes in John’s direction, pursing her lips with disapproval.
“You can do better,” she informed him, tipping her head back to catch the last drops of whiskey in her glass. “Her boobs don’t even move. I mean, you can’t deny that they look good, but make sure she doesn’t hit you in the head with one of those things. She’ll knock you out cold.”
“Duly noted,” John replied dryly, finishing the dregs from his glass. Standing, he checked his pockets to make sure that he had a condom, which he did—of course he did. He was the master of details, noticing things that other people were utterly unaware of...such as the fact that he probably should have felt a little more enthused at the moment. He was heading off to have sex with an attractive woman, but as he left Jo and Theo behind to pursue said woman, he found himself thinking that he’d rather go home.
Stopping halfway across the dance floor, he debated it for a moment, which was yet another thing that was utterly unlike him. He prided himself on being decisive, on being a man who took action, who always had a plan, and this unsureness left him feeling unmoored.
Make up your mind, John!
He started walking toward the door, away from the waitress waiting for him with her skirt around her waist. That was when he saw her, a split-second glimpse of her from behind before she was swallowed up by the crowd.
He turned toward her, as though he were a satellite set to orientate in her direction. He was a tall man, over six feet, but she was nearly ten inches shorter than him, and try as he might, he couldn’t catch another glimpse from where he was.
It didn’t matter. Even without a second look, he knew that the petite woman packed some serious curves into her small frame. Curves his hands itched to touch. He knew that her hair fell in chocolate-brown ribbons to her waist, making him imagine how it would look spread out over the white sheets on his hotel room bed.
He knew that her skin, smooth and pale, was laced with colorful ink, like all of her sisters. And he knew that every time they were in the same room, the sparks between them threatened to erupt into full flame.
Meg Marchande.
Without consciously thinking about it, he started moving, closing the space between them, irritated at the people in his way keeping him from her. When he was still a few feet away, the crowd parted slightly, and he found her again.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She’d chosen to display her curvy body in a thin white T-shirt dress that was low in the neck and high on the thigh. She’d paired it with a pair of black heeled boots that extended up over her knees, the look effortless, though he knew that, as a woman who appreciated fashion, she would have chosen her outfit carefully, conscious of the image that she wanted to project.
He could only assume that she’d wanted her clothing to scream sex, and, oh, had it ever worked.
He tried, really he did, not to let his gaze linger on the delicious cleavage rising out of her neckline, or on the creamy expanse of thigh that made him think of what those legs would look like wrapped around his waist.
She shifted, the already-short hemline riding up even higher, and he lost the battle. It wasn’t the first time, either—in the month since he’d met her, he’d had a very hard time fighting his attraction for the petite brunette.
In another world, fighting it wouldn’t have even been an option. That first day they’d met, when he’d gone to the Marchandes’ home to convince Jo to take a job, the spark had been immediate. There she’d sat, surrounded by her sisters, and the only one he’d seen was her. And if they’d gone for it right then, it probably would have been okay. But now?
Now he and Theo were friends. He and Jo were friends. The Marchandes were a package deal, their mother and Theo included. And that meant that starting anything up with Meg, even a fling, was...well, complicated.
Meg was like a sister to Theo, and wasn’t that an unwritten rule in the bro code? Sisters were hands-off. Sisters were especially hands-off when he was only going to be here for one more week.
That didn’t stop him from thinking about what it would feel like to wrap a hand in those long, loose waves, tugging gently until she gasped.
His cock, which had only paid the barest minimum of attention to the waitress, was fully on board with this new plan. It didn’t help his restraint. Nor did the flare of emerald green jealousy when the man who Meg had been speaking to—flirting with—moved in behind her, placing his hands on her hips and tugging her back against him.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all, even as he reminded himself that she had the right to dance with whomever she wanted. She could flirt with whomever she wanted, and she could sleep with whomever she wanted.
None of that, however, meant that he couldn’t throw his hat in the ring.
Looking across the bar, he saw the table where Jo and Theo still sat, wrapped around each other like ribbons on a maypole. John knew Jo well enough to understand that she would just shrug and say it was Meg’s choice, but Theo would string him up and flay him alive and enjoy doing it. He didn’t want to risk the first real friendship he’d had in...ever.
Theo would probably come around if he knew that John liked Meg, on top of wanting to screw her brains out. That was part of the problem, though... No matter how much he liked Meg, it could never be anything more than sex.
He didn’t do connections with other people. It was something of a personal rule, and he wasn’t some naive idiot who needed to lie down on a therapist’s couch to figure out why—he avoided relationships of all kinds because when you cared about people, they could hurt you. This had been his truth since before he could remember, and hitting the streets at age thirteen had locked it in.
Theo and his friendship had sneaked past John’s barriers, but after careful examination, John had decided that he could handle any potential fallout. Same with Jo.
What he felt for Meg, though? That was something best left unexplored, which was why he’d spent the past few months trying to ignore it.
Right now, watching the sway of her hips as she danced? As the primal urge to fight his competition for her thickened in his blood? Combined with the fact that he admired her, liked her?
He’d honed his self-control in iron for his whole life, but he was still only a man, and he wanted her with every fiber in his being.
Before he’d decided on a plan, he started toward them. He ignored the alarm that started shrieking in his head, warning him of the impending danger.
He’d built a very successful company that had made him very wealthy by going after what he wanted with laser focus.
And right now? Maybe he had an undiscovered masochistic streak that had him craving her company, even if he wasn’t ever going to do anything about it. Yeah, he must, because he found himself walking straight toward her.
He couldn’t have her, but the only thing he wanted was Meg.
