I don’t give him the satisfaction of acting embarrassed. “I’m not a fan of yours. Believe me.”
“You say that,” he says, lowering his mouth to my ear. He whispers. “But I bet if you give me two minutes, I can change your mind.”
I try to ignore the wave of shivers rushing down my spine. “Do I dare ask how you plan to do that?” I ask but my voice is uneven.
“I think you know,” he murmurs, one of his large hands slowly slipping down the small of my back and over my ass where he gives me a subtle grab.
My eyes widen and I look around, wondering if anyone is watching us.
Actually someone is.
Fucking Casey. He’s dancing with a woman called Mona, staring at us openly as he does so. His forehead is lined in surprise. I glare at him until he looks away.
“I’m more of a show, don’t tell, kinda guy,” Emmett adds.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I manage to say, bringing my attention back to him.
“With good reason,” he says, his voice becoming husky as lips brush against my neck. “Just what I thought. You taste sweet. Only your attitude is sour.”
“Excuse me?” I say to him, pulling back to glare at him.
“It’s okay, I’m starting to like it.”
“You’re earning it.”
“You’re earning this,” he says, pressing himself against my hip. My god. He has a fucking erection. “Earning every single inch.”
Part of me is horrified. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? What makes him think he can just shove his cock against me and I’ll be okay with it? If he does this all the time, it’s no wonder he gets in fights with people. Cocks aren’t hugs you can just go around handing out.
But then the other part of me is insanely curious and, yeah, turned-on. Because he feels fucking divine. Even just like this, I can feel his entire hard length and it’s beyond impressive. And the fact that it’s because of me is something I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around.
“You still want to take that bet?” he asks. “Two minutes to change your mind about me.”
I swallow hard and give him a pointed look. “Two minutes isn’t very long.”
“I’m a realist,” he says, glancing over my shoulder. “I’ve got my boat right down there.”
“No thanks,” I tell him quickly before I can be tempted. I’ve had my fair share of one-night stands and hook-ups and lord knows I need to get laid by someone who knows what he’s doing and with his cock and his strength and the way he moves, I have no doubt he’d be a sure bet. But sleeping with Emmett would be a mistake and one I’d probably hate myself for tomorrow.
Even though he would, no doubt, be the most gorgeous man I’d ever be with.
Luckily, the song ends and I manage to pull myself away from him. “I think I need another drink.”
I take off toward the bar, hoping I leave Emmett behind me.
Chapter 4
Emmett
Shit. Alyssa is stubborn as hell.
And I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, watching her fine ass as it goes to the bar.
I breathe in deep through my nose and adjust my pants while flashing a smile at the tiny senior couple dancing next to me as the next song starts up.
She can’t lose me that fast, though.
I stride over to the bar and just as she’s about to put her order in to the bartender, I place my hand on her shoulder and intercept.
“Two Manhattans,” I tell him smoothly, “and hold the liquor.”
The bartender gives us a look and then shrugs.
“I don’t get you,” Alyssa says to me. “One minute you’re trying to get me drunk, the next you’re ordering me a non-alcoholic drink.”
“It’s not a real Manhattan unless it’s made with Crown Royal. Which this bar doesn’t have.” I grin at the bartender. “No offense, of course. I’m sure the groom made sure to stock all of his favorites.”
“And you snuck your own booze into a wedding?” she asks me.
“You’ve never been here before, have you?”
She shakes her head. “Does it look like I get wined and dined by the yachtie set?”
“Hey I’m the yachtie set.”
“You’re something all right.”
Fuck. I can’t stop staring at her lips. I could watch her throw sass my way all night.
When the bartender hands me our drinks, I take both and motion with my head for Alyssa to follow me. “Come on.”
She doesn’t move. “Where are you going?”
“To get the booze. Come on.”
“Alyssa,” Tiffany says, seeming to appear out of nowhere. She’s drunk again, stumbling a bit but smiling. “Where have you been?”
“Hey hot non-blonde,” I tell her which makes Tiffany’s eyes light up. “How did you get drunk so fast? Again?”
“She can’t hold her liquor,” Alyssa explains.
“The Asian curse,” Tiffany says with a laugh.
“Not a curse, a blessing,” I tell her. “Your friend would be a lot easier to seduce if she was a lightweight.”
Alyssa smacks me across the arm. “Shut up. You’re the one who just ordered me a Manhattan with no booze.”
“Oh Alyssa is super easy to seduce,” Tiffany says. “You should see how many guys she sleeps with.”
A ragged gasp falls from Alyssa’s mouth and I laugh.
“Tiffany!” she exclaims.
“What?” says Tiffany, oblivious. “I only know this because you tell me every single detail from your dates. You always said there’s no shame in just getting fucking laid when you need it. So you should probably take Emmett up on his offer so I can hear about it.”
“Two minutes,” I playfully remind Alyssa, wagging my brows.
“Fuck you,” she says to me, and then looks at Tiffany. “And fuck you too.”
Then she storms off.
I look at Tiffany in surprise. “Man, she is hard to read.”
Tiffany shrugs. “She’s simple when you get to know her. You must not be used to women giving you the brush off.”
Considering the amount of wedding guests who’ve approached me for an autograph tonight, she’s right.
“It happens,” I say taking a sip of my drink and then feeling severely disappointed when I remember there’s no booze in it.
Since I have no idea where Alyssa has gone, I tell Tiffany, “If you see Alyssa, tell her to find me.”
“You think she listens to me?”
“I’m feeling lucky.”
Then I leave the ballroom and head down the plush-carpeted hall, past the walls lined with charts and nautical flags, all the way to the locker room. It’s a long-standing tradition here for each member to have their own locker. Their purpose is solely to house bottles of booze. That way when you’re dining at the yacht club you can just drink from your own stash.
The locker room is long, filled from top to bottom with narrow wooden lockers and mine is located around the corner near the end. I bring out my tiny key from my jacket pocket and unlock it, sliding out a half-empty bottle of Crown Royal. I haven’t been at the club all that much since Boomerang got started but I make a mental note to take the boat out one free Sunday.
I pour the Crown in both drinks, unsure if I’ll actually see Alyssa again and lean against the lockers, enjoying the quiet.
I’m not sure what it is about Alyssa that has me so intrigued. It’s probably a lot to do with being given the brush-off, even though I know that she likes me. Or, maybe she doesn’t like me per se, but she wants me. And the fact that I can tell she wants me, that I’ve seen her checking me out, the lust in her eyes, makes me want her even more. It’s her brain that’s holding her back. I have to find a way to shut that off.
I sigh and swirl around the glass before taking a gulp. The silence here is good. As much as I love Will and am happy for him, events like this take a lot out of me, especially when I’ve been working non-stop. I need solitude more and more lately, the more that people want me, the more I need to pull away. The only problem is finding the balance. While I crave alone time when I’m being spread thin, I can’t handle too much of it. Loneliness has found me many times before, always the wolf lurking outside.