Page 12 of Dealing Dirty
Chapter Three
Derrick
That little temptress.My gaze burns a trail after her as she strolls by, flittering a wave behind her before stepping out the door. There’s nothing more sinful than Juliana’s perfectly round ass in those itty-bitty shorts. I commit every inch of them to memory so I’ll have something to reference later when I’m alone.
I had her squirming right where I wanted her, but one look at the soft swell of her breasts peeking above the top of her tank top did me in.
Yup, I’m pathetic.But can anyone blame me? That girl is hell on wheels, and I’m more than willing to ride shotgun.
When the blood in my dick finally makes its way back to my brain, I take off after her, peeling around the doorjamb and stepping in front of her. She makes that cute little huffing noise when she’s irritated, and I smile wide, pushing every exposed button of hers I can.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I get a good look at her. She’s even more lovely than I remembered, but the deepening circles pulling down her tired eyes have my smile slipping. Her hair is still that rich brown I only touch in my dreams, and it’s so silken that the dim lights surrounding us reflect a halo at the crown of her head.
I shift, hoping she won’t notice the effect she has on me. There have been countless nights since our time together in Las Vegas that I’ve been tempted to touch myself to thoughts of those full scarlet lips brushing against mine. The way her small frame fit against me in all the right places, molding her delicious curves against the hard planes of my body.
She cocks out a hip, placing a hand on top of it.
“You never returned my calls.” I frown.
Juliana had no issue parading around in her little sundress the morning after I’d left my marks on her but then had the audacity to act as if nothing ever happened. Like we hadn’t spent most of the night carefree and enjoying each other—in more ways than one. When I never heard back from her once we got home from the trip, I was worried I’d somehow hurt her.
I refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking at her breasts again, checking the area for the small brands I know have long faded. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I never back down from a challenge.
Those memories are not helping my hard-on situation. I stifle a groan. Neither is that tantalizing coconut smell of hers, blending with the wafts of alcohol that float toward us from the bar.
The hallway is dark and cool, and the sound of glasses clicking together along with boisterous laughter helps conceal our conversation from prying ears. Her brown eyes flick over my shoulder, but no one is getting in or out of here until I get my answers.
A sigh escapes her pretty lips, each word brushed by a faint Spanish accent. “I told you, Derrick. One-time deal.” When she tries to shoulder past me, I press my palm against the wall next to her head, blocking her with my forearm.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I soften my voice, bending down a touch in hopes she’ll raise her eyes to mine. “I was… worried about you.” I force the awkward sentence past a hard lump in my throat.
We don’t know each other like that. Sure, we had one amazing night together, but does that constitute telling her how crazy it made me not knowing if she was safe? That I even went as far as convincing Cassidy to go by her place to see if she was all right? It drove me mad that she ghosted me, but like the rest of our friends, I wanted to give her time and space to come to terms with what had happened, and what’s still happening now.
“You can pretend all you want that what went on between us meant nothing to you,” I whisper next to her ear, nearly drooling like a dog from the sheer scent of her. “But I’ve got those sweet little moans seared into my memory.”
When her doe eyes find mine, they’re wide and pooling with the heightened desire. She opens that spitfire mouth of hers to say something but closes it abruptly. Her chin kicks up as she crosses her arms, and the shame snuffing out her usual fire makes my chest ache.
“We had our fun, Derrick. I’m sorry it ended up a complete disaster.”
I draw back. What does she mean?
Then it dawns on me. “Wait, do you not—”
“If we’re going to be working together, let’s let bygones be bygones. It was a silly one-night stand, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, right?” She offers me a hand and I gape at her; the word ‘friends’ slithers around me, creating a barrier between us.
“Juliana,” I start, but she drops her hand. And this time, when she shoulders past me, I have no choice but to let her go.
* * *
The Pound is full to the gills with rowdy men and their entourage of ladies. We don’t usually make much fuss about them luring the dancers from across the highway over here, but there’ve been times we’ve had to step in and make sure the women were being well taken care of. Jack doesn’t appreciate having that sort of stamp on this place, and he’s not afraid to throw someone out if he thinks a situation is getting out of hand.
A cloud of smoke clings under each hanging lamp, and the familiar scent of fried food is thick in the air. I drag a hand through my messy mop of hair and nod toward Kenneth in the back corner. He’s the president of his motorcycle club, the Wolves. Since we informed him of Bruce’s threat, he’s made it known that he’s got our backs, but everyone’s got a limit on their generosity.
“D!” Micah hollers. The hulk of a man carries a busser’s tray full of plates and trash toward me, wearing a wide smile. He all but chucks it onto the bar before wrapping his hand around mine and pulling me in tight. “We missed you, man.” His big fist pounds against my back.
Dark brown eyes match the deep chocolate hue of his skin, brightening his ever-present smile. The guy is a never-ending tap of happiness, and when he’s charming the women at the bar, I hear the word ‘scrumptious’ thrown around a lot.
“How’s your sister?” he asks. “Did you get her all settled in?”
