She throws her head back and laughs at something a dark-haired woman says to her, before the friend gets pulled away. Even in the mass of bodies heaving on the dance floor, she still stands out.

Lizzie.

Alone.

And the smile she wears makes me want to claim her, here and now, on the dance floor.

For a few moments, I take in every movement her body makes while she’s lost in the music. The flex of her calves, the sway of her hips, the way a lock of hair trails down her neck. My cock swells as thoughts of those same hips moving aggressively against mine flood my mind. I’m drawn nearer, wanting to touch. My fingers tingle with the need.

The music alters, bringing her out of the trance she was in. I move even closer, drawn to the curves of her tits straining against her dress. She lifts her head and wipes away the hairs stuck to her face. Her gaze wanders the area looking for something, someone, before her eyes meet mine.

Well, I’m fucking it. She’s having me—every fucking inch. I’m only a few feet away, but the sudden desire in her eyes glows brighter than the strobe lights. It’s all the invitation I need.

Without speaking, she takes my outstretched hand, and I pull her into me. Her scent fills my senses, a heady combination of what can only be described as sunflowers mixed with the fresh smell of rain. Her hitched breath grazing across my neck has my half-mast cock hard within seconds. I keep a firm hold on her hand, place the other on her lower back, and press her against me. Every inch moulds into my body. A perfect fit. Her tits press against my chest, and I swear I can feel how hard her nipples are through my shirt.

Small fingers wrap around my bicep, while mine graze across her damp, silky skin, as we sway to the music. Her head drops onto my shoulder. Each breath she takes grazes my neck, sending shudders through my taut body. Hard as stone, my cock presses up against her hip, as she rocks against it. The sensation of her body moving close to mine pushes me almost to the point of no return. My pulse increases, thundering through my ears louder than the music, and the urge to mark her as mine takes hold.

The song changes and she pulls away. My whole body protests at her loss. She examines my face as I wrap my fingers under her chin—asking for permission without words. Asking her to let me claim those fucking lips as mine. Her chest rises and falls; she’s as breathless as I feel. But the desire in her eyes splutters to a stop, and a startled expression crosses her face. My hand falls away from her.

She mouths, “I’m sorry,” before she turns on her heels and runs away through the crowd. I’m left standing in the middle of the dance floor, with a raging hard-on, wondering what the fuck just happened.

A random girl bumps into me and rubs herself up against my body, but all I care about now is where the woman went who lit something inside me yet again. I remove the stray hands, exit the dance floor, and fight my way back to the bar.

Bear raises his eyebrows at me when I approach him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You. Dancing?”

“It was me dancing, fuckwit.”

“Who was the chick?”

I rub a hand over my head and give him a lopsided grin. “Lizzie. The reporter I told you about from Nitrous magazine.”

His face hardens a little before it relaxes. He lets out a low whistle. “Well, now I know what all the fuss is about. What happened? Did she blow you off?”

It’s not a natural response from Bear, but I shrug it off. Maybe he can see that other bloke pawing his lady friend. “Not in so many words.” I rub my stubble. “But yeah, she did.” Shaking my head, I laugh, although I can’t figure the whole thing out.

Maybe that’s the attraction? Unlike the usual bar bunny, she’s not easy prey. “So, where’s your lady?”

His humour shuts down. “She left.”

“Hmm. On her own?”

“No.” His jaw clenches.

I don’t need to ask him anything else, and turn to the barman to catch his attention. “Two shots of JD, mate. And make them doubles.” And I point to the barmaid, adding, “We have a tab running with her.”

Bear grasps my shoulder. “Do you want to sit down?” He points to a quieter area where a table’s free.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. I’m the first to walk on hallowed ground. “So, what is it about her that gets you all worked up, then?”

He sighs. “I really don’t know. Ask yourself the same question about that Lizzie bird.”

“Nothing to ask. She gets my cock hard. Nothing new there.” I play off how I feel because I have no fucking clue how to deal with actually feeling anything other than a hard-on. My emotions are never combined with a stiff dick. It’s new territory.

“That,” he gestures to the dance floor, “was new.”

“I dance.” I lean back and use the table as a footstool.

He smirks. “Not like that you don’t.”

I down my drink and slam the empty glass on the table. “Fuck off, Bear.”

He nods and just like that we end the heart-to-heart, neither of us willing to break out with mushy feelings crap.

A shadow casts over the table; the figure looms above us then sits down next to me.

“What’s up, pussy?”

“Zan, you can fuck off, too.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to my cousin like that.”

“Bear, shut the fuck up. Zan can take it.” I turn to Bear’s cousin. “Can’t you, cocksucker?”

He winks at me. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“Who says I haven’t?” I joke, giving him a sly grin. “I love arse, but the cock sucking thing, nah. Goes right over my head.”

Zan bursts out into deep laughter. “Yeah, it does, mate. That’s the point.”

I laugh at our easy piss-taking. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t give him a little shit. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Working for this bastard,” he answers and gestures towards Bear.

I nod. “Easy or hard?” I know better than to ask any in-depth questions about on-going work.

Zan grins back at me, but his eyes don’t match the forced smile on his mouth. “Best job I’ve ever had. It’s a piece of piss.” His face twists a little as if he’s in pain, but before it settles, it’s gone, and is replaced with his usual couldn’t-give-a-fuck face.

Something about his reaction makes me want to push for something else. “Have you been working for him long?”

“Long enough. Served my last tour and got out after. Been working for him ever since.”

I acknowledge his non-answer with another nod and go to take a drink, but there’s nothing there except an empty glass. “You two want a drink?”

Bear glares at Zan and finally speaks up. “Make his a water.” Then he mutters something I can’t quite hear.

I decide it’s best to leave them to it, and head off to the bar. A few women try and catch my attention, but I’m not in the mood. The only one I want left me high and dry. After an age waiting to get served, I return with the drinks. When I get closer, I overhear their conversation.

“She’s had a thing for him ever since.”

“Fuck.” Bear crouches forward and rubs the back of his neck.

Zan, on the other hand, leans back in his chair. “What are you going to do about it?”

I place the drinks on the table and relax back into my seat. “What’s who going to do about what?” Both the guys turn to look at me, odd expressions on their faces.

“Nothing, it’s work. And for the record, I’m going to do nothing about it. Because nothing will come of it.” Bear cuts the conversation dead and Zan stares at him over the rim of his glass. Bear’s returning glare makes Zan shift in his seat before he looks away. One-nil to Bear then.

“Do you girls need some privacy?” I’ve interrupted something too soon and as much as I love seeing these two bitches going at each other, I’d rather not be stuck in the middle if things turn physical.