Page 62 of Sinful Promise
“The other Malones don’t seem inclined to fuckin’ leave,” I continue during a gap in music. “Micah’s sticking, and Cato’s a mess of hormones that are gonna get him killed.”
Snorting, back to his normal good-humored self, Fletch’s shoulders bounce with laughter. “Because the kid wants to bang your wife? It’s a way of life now, ain’t it? Everyone wants a taste of the good doctor.”
“I don’t know why! She’s not even nice to anyone but us.”
Whoops go up as the DJ changes the music, and hip-hop from ten years ago comes on. Dancers in the cage switch out, bodies gyrate, and couples touch. And then, just ten feet from the door, I slam into Fletch’s back as he stops.
My lungs clamor for air; that’s how hard we hit. Then my eyes follow his and widen on a beautiful brunette dancing alone in a cage.
Long, long legs sit atop heels that star in every man’s filthy dreams. A mini skirt that hides nothing, but boyleg panties beneath, since I guess she was still looking for modesty.
A bare stomach, and a midriff top that hugs a set of D-sized tits.
Worst of all—or perhaps best of all—fire engine red lips, and closed eyes as she runs her hands along her body.
Stunned, curious, Fletch makes his way to the cage, focused only on the woman. As we move, his shoulders grow broader with adrenaline. His arms bulging like he’s already carrying her over his shoulder.
Reaching between the bars—ballsy, considering she might kick him in the face for touching—he wraps his hand around a slim ankle, and swallows when her eyes snap open in shock.
Like the music was just for them, like the whole world wants this moment, the beat stops and the club is swallowed in momentary silence.
Finally, when he opens his mouth to speak, everything restarts, and the lights flash.
“Sera?”
FLETCH
“Do not follow me home!” Seraphina Lewis, sexy, stubborn, and the most seductive woman I’ve ever met in my life, storms out of the club and onto the sidewalk out front like she has electricity in her ass and a reputation to maintain.
Arch follows us out, but when Sera jets one way, and his home lies the opposite direction, he stops and waits for my eyes.
“I’ll take care of it.” I extend my hand, fist closed, and wait for him to bump it. Then I take off like a shot. Because Sera is fucking fast, even on skyscraper heels. “Hey! Stop.”
“Taxi!” She doesn’t run, but fuck if she isn’t cruising along the uneven sidewalk.
She steps off the corner and throws her hand in the air as cars ramble by.
“Sera? Fuck.”
My heart thunders in my throat. Sprinting, not only because of the situation I’ve stumbled across, but because she’s not the stuffy pencil-skirt wearing goddess tonight. She’s not wielding a clipboard or shouting orders to anyone who stands still too long.
She went frommean-librarianSera, tofuck me from behind and cum on my back tattooSera in the single beat of my heart.
“You need to calm the fuck down.” I keep watch to make sure no one else thinks they get to take advantage of her distress, then I step off the curb and hook my finger in the back of her skirt when a passing car comes too close.
I tug the woman my way and get a lungful of her perfume when her back crashes to my chest, and her long hair tickles my bare arms. “Have you been drinking?”
“No.” And yet, she stumbles in her heels when she tries to shove away. “I’m not drinking. In fact, I’m not even here.”
“You’re a thousand different people, aren’t you?” I set my hand on her hip and back us up until we’re on the sidewalk again.
Cabs continue to pass, but none stop for her. So for as long as she’s waiting, she can wait with me.
“Stuffy and unbending at work,” I muse, “like you think the world will explode if you don’t stick to a minute-by-minute schedule.”
“Go away, Charlie Fletcher.”
“And then you’ve got the cowgirl, Will Rogers, Daisy Dukes, and cowboy boots whenever you head back to Oklahoma.”
