Page 72 of Spilled Coffee

The air was heavy with the weight of the rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and a low bass thrummed from the club, vibrating through his chest, beckoning him inside.

He hesitated for a beat, one last chance to turn around and drive away before things got messy. But then he thought of Ethan… head down, hands shoved deep into his jacket pocketsas he’d walked out of the bar earlier. And Devon… waiting for him like a monster in the night.

That thought… was all it took.

CHAPTER 37

The small boothfelt like a sweltering prison, and the slick leather seat clung to Brick’s thighs as if it had a vendetta against him.

Abbey was perched on his lap like a cat that owned her territory, swaying her hips in a rhythm that matched the bass reverberating across the club.

Spilled tequila mixed with her overpowering perfume—a sugary vanilla with a hint of something sharp—filled Brick’s nostrils as her huge breasts, heavy and tantalizingly warm, pressed into his chest. Every movement of her body sparked flashes of last night—her straddling his hips, thighs gripping his sides, head thrown back, hands clawing his hair like a lifeline while she moaned his name loud enough to wake the dead.

The memory of it forced a grin to spread across his face while heat pooled low in his gut, despite the fog of too much tequila now clouding his brain.

Brick let out a low chuckle, the sound muffled by the thundering music and Abbey’s exaggerated sighs. But as he watched her grind, his thoughts began to sharpen.

He wanted her again, but this time with no interruptions. Last night’s chaotic threesome with Lisa had been a blur oftangled limbs and drunken laughter, but satisfying two women while completely hammered had drained every ounce of energy he had.

Was it something he regretted? Hell no. But it wasn’t something he cared to repeat anytime soon—well, at least not tonight. But if Devon kept sniffing around Lisa like he’d been, then that meant Brick could have Abbey all to himself this time. Perfect, he thought.

“Hey, Brick…”

A voice cut through his tequila-addled thoughts, and he surfaced from beneath Abbey’s curvy weight, as if emerging from a deep-water dive. His vision swam for a moment before settling on the large man who loomed over the divider rail of the booth like some kind of avenging angel—or devil—depending on how you looked at him.

The man’s broad shoulders blocked out most of the light from the lasers flashing overhead. His mouth was set in a tight line, and there was an intensity in his eyes that instantly sobered Brick up—well, almost.

“Logan…” Brick slurred, shoving Abbey aside with far less grace than he intended, watching her topple into the seat next to him with an indignant squeak. He sat up way too fast, the room tilting violently as it spun around him. “What the hell are you doing here, man?” He groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to straighten.

“You okay?” Logan stiffened, almost protectively, as his sharp gaze flicked over the numerous shot glasses littering the sticky tabletop in front of them.

“Um-hmm,” Brick mumbled, head lolling forward like a lead weight perched precariously on his neck.

Abbey giggled, clearly unfazed by Logan’s sudden appearance or Brick’s inebriated state. She untangled herself from his embrace, smoothing her dress to cover herself as sheslid from the booth. “I’m just going to use the ladies’ room,” she announced in a sing-song voice that dripped with faux innocence.

As she passed Logan, she slowed and deliberately brushed against him. Her perfume—now a cloying mix of tequila and vodka infused with vanilla—wafted between them like an invisible weapon. Her large breasts pressed against his bicep as she tilted her head to meet his gaze with a sultry smile that practically screamed, ‘I want you.’

“You know, Brick…” she purred, glancing back with a wicked glint in her eye, “you’ve got some good-looking friends. Do you reckon this one wants to join in?”

Brick groaned, but somewhere between annoyance and exhaustion he managed an audible reply. “Uh... no. No, just go use the bathroom.” He waved her away dismissively. He was far too drunk to care about her shameless flirting.

Abbey pouted dramatically, flouncing off toward the bathrooms with an exaggerated sashay of her hips that left more than one head turning in her wake.

Logan watched her go then turned back to Brick, a frown etched deep in his features. He scanned the club quickly—the dance floor was a chaotic sea of writhing bodies bathed in shifting colored lights and the bar was crowded with people shouting drink orders over one another while bartenders worked frantically to keep up.

“Is Ethan here?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

Brick squinted through bleary eyes as if trying to process the question. “Uh, no… no, he went home already,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. His words were slurred but audible enough over the music. “Said he didn’t feel too well or somethin’. Guess he’s still hungover from last night if you ask me.”

Logan’s expression tightened at that, but he didn’t comment. “And Devon?” he pressed. “Did he come to the club with you?”

Brick scratched at his neck, stalling for time. “Er… yeah,” he eventually admitted. “Yeah, he’s… well, he’s…” He coughed lightly before gesturing vaguely toward the bathrooms. “He’s taken Abbey’s friend Lisa, to… y’know…”

The implication hung heavy between them, and Logan clenched his jaw as he processed this information. “So he’s still here at the club? He didn’t leave with Ethan?”

“Nah… not that I know,” Brick replied, narrowing his eyes. “Why? Did somethin’ happen? Hell… is somethin’ wrong with Ethan?”

“No, nothing wrong,” Logan said curtly, though there was an edge to his tone that hadn’t been there before. “We had words, earlier, and I wanted to apologize, that’s all.”

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