“I’m going to call it a night.”
Sensing her hurt, Trudy took her hand to prevent her from leaving. “Don’t leave. Dance with me one more—Holy shit …” Trudy broke off, her eyes going wide. “Is that Reaper?”
Killyama, Sex Piston, Crazy Bitch, and Fat Louise turned in unison at Trudy’s expression.
Ginny lifted her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.
The man standing on the small landing at the top of the stairs had to be Gavin. He looked just like him. What made it difficult to tell was the clothes the man was wearing.
“Mother fucking hell … Come to mama.” Sex Piston gaped at Gavin, then turned to look at her. “You lucky bitch.”
Was it physically possible to swallow one’s own tongue when confronted with pure man candy?
Her eyes were glued to Gavin as she took in tight, cream-colored shirt that had been left casually unbuttoned, exposing his neck tattoos and the top of his chest. Gazing down his body, the slim-fit brown pants drew attention to the muscles of his legs. He’d swapped the normal boots he wore to a soft leather dress boot.
“Where’s Train?” Killyama put one foot on the bottom rung of the stool so she could raise herself higher to find her husband.
“What you wanting Train for?” Sex Piston asked, her eyes just as glued to Gavin as hers were.
“Because I’m a fucking married woman, and I plan to stay that way.” Killyama waved to her husband again.
Ginny frowned. “What about being my backup?”
“You have four other bitches here to take your back; you don’t need me.”
“What do you need?” Train asked, coming up to Killyama.
“We’re leaving.”
“What’s the hurry? Dalton and I have a game going. I’ll lose a hundred bucks …” Train turned his head to see what the women were staring at as Diamond stopped dancing with Knox to stand next to Sex Piston.
“Is that Reaper?”
“Fuck no, that’s what you call God’s gift to women,” Sex Piston said in awe.
“God bless America,” Diamond reverently muttered.
Train took out his wallet, pulling out a one hundred dollar bill. Giving it to Knox, Train grabbed Killyama’s hand and hustled her out of the room.
Fat Louise waved her hand in front of her face. “I’m burning up in here.”
“He can come and light my fire.” Crazy Bitch picked up the bottle of water to take a drink.
“That’s mine,” Ginny protested.
“The Last Riders share. You with Gavin, that means you’re a Last Rider. Bitch, you need to learn to share with your friends!” Crazy Bitch’s eyes went down Gavin’s body like hers had. “Jesus … please share. I’ll share Calder—”
“Who you giving me to?” Calder went behind the bar, hearing the tail end of Crazy Bitch’s offer. Following the women’s line of vision, he started to take a drink of his beer when he carefully set it back down. “We’re leaving.”
“Hell no, we aren’t. Bitch, why didn’t you tell us he’s packing? A woman needs a snack someti—”
Ginny’s eyes widened when Calder lifted Crazy Bitch over his shoulder and headed out the door. Calder did stop to say a few words to Gavin before carrying his wife out.
What was he waiting for? Was he wanting her to go to him? She needed more water but was afraid one of the women in the room would make a move on him if she dared to look away.
The music switched to another song. Recognizing “I See Red” by Everybody Loves an Outlaw, Ginny felt the sexy vibe of the song to the marrow of her bones.
Gavin motioned to where everyone was dancing, indicting he wanted her to meet him there. When Gavin took the final step off the stair landing, Ginny felt her womanly parts clench in aching need. She hadn’t had this reaction when he had worn the dinner suit on Sherguevil Island. This was different. This was like what she had felt when he had been sitting at the table and she had rushed away … on steroids.
Gavin was excluding a powerfully sexy quality that drew women like an erotic scent enveloping them into a fantasyland where all you wanted to do was lick him like a snow cone to cool the heat.
Walking to a spot four inches away, Gavin motioned for her again.
Sex Piston shifted so she was no longer looking at him. “Bitch, go,” she hissed. “Or in the next two minutes, I’m going to give Stud a reason to divorce me.”
Moving from behind the counter, Ginny felt her feet crossing the floor, stopping two inches from him, afraid to go any farther. Her top felt as tight as a corset, and it had a stranglehold on her heart.
Belatedly remembering the advice, she licked her bottom lip and took the step needed for their bodies to meet. Sliding her arms around the lower part of his waist, she hooked her hands over his belt and held on for dear life. She wanted to ask if he was mad at her, but she took the advice she had been given; the less talking, the better.
Someone in the room turned the overhead light off, leaving the room bathed in soft lamplight.
The song ended and the playlist replayed the first song that she and Trudy had danced to. “This Girl Is On Fire.” Sweet Jesus, this was the last song she needed to listen to with the sensual way Gavin was holding her.
Song after song played, each one ratcheting up the sensual tension between them.
“Did you have fun at Sex Piston’s slumber party?” The sensual quality in his whispery-soft voice had chills going up her back.
Ginny managed to get out a strangled, “Yes.”
“Did you enjoy me running around Treepoint trying to meet up with you?”
This was so not good. The hair on her arms stood up.
“I didn’t know Trudy texted you to meet me.”
Gavin curled his hands around the back of her neck. “You would have known if you had answered my texts or calls.”
“I forgot my phone in my bag and I rode in Sex Piston’s van.”
Ginny stopped speaking. He didn’t want to hear excuses of why she hadn’t kept her phone with her.
“I screwed up,” she admitted.
“Shh … don’t be afraid.” When his hand went to her ass to jerk her hips to his, it pressed her breasts tighter against his chest. “I would never hurt you, Ginny, ever.”
Ginny couldn’t relax. The slow, sensual way he talked to her was scaring the bejesus out of her.
“I would never hurt you,” Gavin repeated. “But I am going to punish you. So, are you ready to go upstairs?”
Ginny felt his hand slide along her arm until he linked his fingers through hers. Then he pulled arm behind her back until they were dancing with her arm twisted behind her back. There was no pain, as her injured arm was still cocooned in her sling. With both of her arms out of commission, however, it gave her a helpless feeling, as Gavin danced with her, controlling their movements.
“No.” Ginny pretended the strangled word that came out of her mouth was articulated perfectly. It would have worked, too, if Gavin had made a modicum of effort to hide the knowing gleam in his eyes. The jerk didn’t.
They listened to Sam Smith sing “Fire on Fire.” The sensual words and voice were heightened by the hedonistic way Gavin watched every move her body made with his.