Good Girls Don't
Loosely related to
Her Wildest Dreams
No leather
for her.
No—Lori was
wearing wine red lace, nearly the same color she had slicked on her
lips. The corset was designed to look as through she wore nothing under
the lace, but as he moved a little closer, he realized it wasn’t pale,
soft flesh he was seeing under the overlay of lace but some sort of
silky cloth that was nearly the same color as her skin.
The teasing
hint of what lay under the corset was enough to make him want to tear
the lace and silk away, stripping her bare. He wasn’t the only one who
had an appreciation for the picture she made. Just before he drew even
with her, somebody that looked entirely too familiar slid up to her side
and rested a hand on her shoulder.
It was
Trask Boyett, one of the more serious club members. Unlike the Romeo
from earlier, this one would know how to initiate somebody like Lori.
And Mike wasn’t about to see it happen.
Hell, no.
“Lori.”
She looked
away from Trask, her eyes meeting Mike’s and widening. A soft flush
stained her cheeks but she didn’t look away. Her eyes were wide and
round with surprise as she stared at him and Mike could only imagine the
thoughts racing through her mind.
Looking
over her shoulder at Trask, he cocked a brow.
Trask’s
blond brows rose over his pale grey eyes and he smiled slightly. “You
shouldn’t let her out alone in here, Mike. You know better.”
Lori
scowled, looking back at Trask but he had already withdrawn, melting
back into the crowd. She looked back at Mike, her brows arching over
her soft blue eyes as she demanded, “What in the hell was he talking
about?”
Mike
ignored her, reaching out and closing a hand around her arm. “Come on.
You and me are going to have a talk.”
She
resisted, trying to tug her arm away. “I’m having a drink here.”
Mike
reached behind her and grabbed the half empty tumbler. He tossed it
back, grimacing at the over sweet taste of rum and coke. After he’d
emptied it, he slammed the glass back on the gleaming mahogany bar.
“No, you’re not. Come on.”
Still, Lori
tried to tug away from him so he moved closer and bent down low,
murmuring into her ear, “You can either walk out of here with me or be
carried. Believe me, not too many people will think much of it if I
throw you over my shoulder.”
Her eyes
narrowed and the soft curve of her lower lip poked out in a slight pout,
but she fell in step alongside him.
Mike had
two choices. He could take her upstairs to the private rooms. For
three hundred bucks, he could rent one until the club closed at 4 a.m.
Or he could take her out to the trellised patio. The patio led out into
a maze of hedges that had dozens of little nooks and crannies where they
could get some semblance of privacy.
The private
rooms were tempting, but Mike wasn’t going to put himself alone with
her, not as edgy as he was feeling right now.
