Page 7 of You Are Cordially Invited

“Oh, fuck me.”

Reuben chuckled. “Later, baby.”

I turned and glared at those not remotely beautiful eyes. “Don’t you ‘baby’ me. How much did you know about this?”

He threw up his hands. “Absolutely nothing. I promise. Come on, where’s that fuck-the-world attitude I love so much?”

“Getting ready to fuck the world of some of our so-called friends later,” I grumbled, which earned me another ripple of laughter.

Reuben bent down and kissed me softly, then stared into my eyes. “Come on.”

And I melted, goddammit. “All right, all right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I steeled my shoulders, squared my jaw, and narrowed my violet-lined eyes till they were sharp enough to slice through bullshit and badly behaving friends at twenty paces.

I gathered my dignity and sauntered over to one of the chairs, with Reuben close behind. Out the corner of my eye, I caught Gary Knowles making a fast exit. I didn’t blame him.

“The rats are leaving the ship,” I whispered to Reuben, nodding to where the All Blacks’ coach was almost out the doors.

He laughed.

We’d no sooner taken our seats than two of the officers sauntered in front and wiggled their shapely butts at Reuben and me.Good lord.The crowd gathered around with way too much enthusiasm as Usher’s ‘Yeah’ began to stream through the speakers.

Fuck me. Strippers.

I groaned and dropped my chin to my chest.Kill me now.

The officers spun around, and I lifted my gaze to find—Oh. My. Fucking. God—Mark and Josh—grins as big as the hole that was gonna be left when I removed my foot from their arses.

Their hips rolled effortlessly to the sexy beat, and yeah, okay, they looked damn good. Not that I was gonna tell them that.

I pulled on my best scowl. “If either of you get close to my lap, you’re dead meat,” I snarled. “And if you think for one minute I’m putting a tip in any jockstrap you might have hidden under there, you’ve got another thing coming.” I ran my gaze between the two smiling men, caught Reuben’s chuckle, and slapped his thigh. “You’re enjoying this altogether too much.”

“I am. Come on, they’re bloody good dancers.”

And they were, dammit. Almost as good as Sandy and me, although Mark’s charisma and playful flirting had as much to do with his riveting performance as any actual dance moves. I stole a quick glance to Ed, whose gaze was locked on his sultry boyfriend, and smiled. They were ridiculously cute together. Apples and oranges.

Josh was a lot less skilled on the dancefloor, but since he looked like he belonged on the cover of vogue, he didn’t really have to impress too much with his moves. Our two friends remained in front, while the two professionals focused on us. They were equally gorgeous, ripped and gifted on their feet, and no doubt in other places as well. I doubted either would leave alone tonight if the growing lake of drool on the spectator floor was anything to go by. Even the straight contingent seemed impressed.

Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t that bad. I started to relax.

Hands trailed over our chests and backs.

Fingers slid through our hair and glided up our thighs.

Hips checked our shoulders.

A bit of reverse straddling of our laps invited a few butt slaps, which I was more than happy to deliver. The crowd approved and the strippers came back for more.

And yeah, it was fucking sexy. They knew exactly what they were doing and were damn good at it. Meanwhile, Mark and Josh worked the crowd, paying particular attention to the rugby guys and getting a few not-so-subtle, heated looks in return from men I’d never have thought it of.

Fuck me. If there weren’t more than one or two confused men heading home tonight, I’d eat my damn choker.

It was all good, if downright raunchy fun, with lots of encouragement from the crowd. I was enjoying the shit out of it when the music suddenly switched to the raspy vocals of Joe Cocker’s ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On,’ and all four men started peeling off their clothes... slowly... seductively... to the beat... one item at a time.

Jackets.

Braces.

Trousers.

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