Page 12 of Strut

Too fucking late.“Oh, look at that, the bouncer’s waving me in. Gotta go, sis. Nice talking to you.” I stabbed the End Call button, stared at the double doors for a second, took a deep breath, and then pushed through.

The immediate assault to my eardrums almost rattled my brain from my skull. Add that to the heaving crowd and multicoloured light display circling the room and dripping down the walls, and I needed a minute to orient myself. I passed the coat check desk and slid against the closest wall to take a look around.

The place was humming, the music pulsing loudly above the thrum of a hundred different conversations, while the surprisingly spacious dancefloor writhed with every possible combination of couples, throuples, and dogpiles of slick bodies. Like the queue outside, it was a younger crowd, mostly early twenties, but with enough around my age to drop the creep factor to acceptable. I watched the dancers for a bit, appreciating all the hot skin and tight muscle on display before scouting the bar.

“You wanna dance?” A warm body leaned close, and I turned to find an attractive dark-haired man just inches from my face. He had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen and a pouty mouth made for sucking cock. He licked his lips and ran his hand up my arm. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

On any other night I would’ve had him out the back and on his knees with my dick down his throat in about five minutes flat, but I wasn’t even tempted—a disturbing fact that was worth an alarm bell or two. Instead, I simply smiled and covered his hand with mine. “Thanks. You’re pretty hot yourself, but I’m meeting someone.”

He cocked his head. “Australian?”

I shook my head. “New Zealand.”

“Very cool.” He ran his gaze over me and sighed. “Well, shit. Come find me if you change your mind. I’m here for a bit.” He moved past, his hand ghosting my soft cock, and I smiled and shook my head. In the right mood, I fucking loved clubs, but I wasn’t there to hook up, not even with the man I was searching for, thank you, sis. I’d made that mistake already.

The bar ran about six metres along the left-hand wall, and the floor behind it was raised, giving patrons a good view of the bartenders as they worked. It was currently jammed with people, three deep, all shouting drink orders to the handsome and shirtless barmen holding court in tight-as-fuck black jeans, leather harnesses, and not much else.

I searched among them for Alec and... holy shit.My breath caught in my chest.

He looked fucking gorgeous. The pale skin on his bare chest glistened with perspiration, highlighting every dip and curve of his lean body, and with just the barest smattering of fair hair leading down into a mouth-watering treasure trail. His blond locks were slicked back at the sides, drawing attention to those model-worthy sharp cheekbones and strong angles of his jaw, while smoky eye makeup popped those eyes like sapphires in the glittering lights above the bar.

Alec boasted the largest crowd and worked them with a broad smile on his face, chatting and laughing and flirting as he handed out drinks and danced a little to the music—the tempting swell of his arse the centre of attention for more than a few of the patrons lucky enough to claim one of the coveted seats directly in front of his workspace.

For a few seconds I simply watched, entranced, but when I saw a guy signal to close out his bill, I muscled my way through the crowd and into his seat, earning myself more than a few grumbling curses at my rudeness.

Fuck ’em.

Safely ensconced, I held up my hand and a few seconds later Alec turned to take my order and... blinked... twice... his mouth hanging open. He quickly gathered himself and leaned over the bar to be heard above the crowd. “What the hell are you doing here?” he practically shouted.

“Ordering a beer,” I shouted back, then pulled away and smiled at his frown. “What do you recommend?”

He stared at me for a long minute and then shook his head. “What do you like?”

You. Any way I can get you.“IPAs.”

He nodded and came back with a glass and a bottle sporting a label I didn’t recognise. I took the bottle, my fingers sliding over the back of his hot hand, and gave him back the glass. The cool earthy liquor slid down my dry throat like liquid gold, and when I looked up Alec was staring at me as if waiting on my opinion, while calmly ignoring everyone else trying to get his attention.

“It’s good,” I answered his raised brow. “Drop me another one if you get a minute. When do you finish?”

He glanced at the clock behind the bar, which read eleven. “Not for another hour. Why?”

“Hey, sexy.” Some guy pushed in beside me waving a hundred-dollar bill at Alec. “Does this get me some time with you later?”

Alec barely glanced the man’s way. “It scarcely gets you a drink at these prices. And the answer is no, to anything and everything else you might say.”

The man laughed and Alec turned back to me.

“I’ll wait for you to finish.” I raised my beer in salute. “Buy you that coffee... or something?”Jesus Christ.My game had clearly evaporated along with my common sense.

Alec stared a long second, then shook his head in defeat. “Fine. You can ditch thesomething,but I’ll take the coffee.”

“Excellent. You better get back to your audience before they mutiny.” I flicked my head to the clamouring crowd and he startled like he’d almost forgotten they were there.

“Right.” He began to fill orders again while I sat back to enjoy the show.

As he worked, Alec’s gaze intermittently darted my way, like he couldn’t make sense of why I was there. Join the club. Because if anyone needed a cartoon arrow above their head that said Loser Crush with a capital L, it was me.

I didn’t do nerves. I didn’t chase. I didn’t drool over guys and watch them work when I should’ve been back in my tiny apartment catching up on jetlag. I didn’t do a lot of things that Alec was making me want to. And yet here I was, a year down the track from supposedly assigning him to the intriguing but dangerous no-go file in my brain, and I was back in that fucked-up headspace craving his attention.

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