Bridger just seems to know he’s being talked about because his eyes slide over to mine. His gaze flicks briefly to Carlie standing in front of me, and his smile curves wickedly. I knew he’d be all in.

As Bridger pushes off the wall and starts to wind his way through the throng of dancers, I lean down to place my lips near Carlie’s ear. “Bridger had it last time. I’m getting your ass tonight.”

She fucking shudders over the thought. Carlie loves her some DP, but then again… so do I.

I’m wicked that way.

When Bridger reaches us, he walks right up behind Carlie and presses into her. I know my friend well enough to know that he’s already getting hard thinking about us taking her at the same time. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times since college we’ve done that with a woman and I can honestly say, it never gets old.

Carlie is much shorter so Bridger and I can stare eye to eye as we iron out the details.

“Silo?” he asks.

“Nah. Let’s just go to our office,” I say simply.

Because that’s closer and besides… a few weeks ago, Bridger and I tag teamed the new waitress, Stephanie, in there. Bridger just sat his naked ass on the edge of our desk, his long, powerful legs easily supporting himself. I did nothing more than place Stephanie in a straddle on his lap and stepped in behind. It was the perfect fucking angle.

No pun intended.

Bridger nods and grabs Carlie’s hand, pulling her from me and toward the short hall that leads to our office. Carlie, in turn, takes my hand and I start to follow the train back.

“And how about you, honey?” Angel’s smoky voice reverberates over the speakers, and I can just imagine her standing up on the bar with her fiery red hair that comes down to her ass, microphone pressed under the contestant’s mouth. I’ve often thought about fucking Angel, but she’s a dominatrix and I’m sorry… but I have to be the one in control. I don’t submit to anyone, so it’s never happened. I’ve sure enjoyed watching her play over at The Silo though.

Just as Bridger enters the hallway, the hair rises up on the back of my head when I hear the sweetest voice I’ve never been able to forget and that still intermittently haunts my dreams.

“Hi. My name’s Callie. I just turned twenty-nine and oh, gosh… I’m nervous as hell, but I’m drunk enough to overcome it. Let’s do this!”

I hear the resounding chorus of a hundred drunken men shout in agreement.

I drop Carlie’s hand and whirl around, my gaze lasering onto the woman standing next to Angel on the bar.

Tall and willowy with chocolate-brown hair that appears to be braided down her back. It used to be really long, but I can’t tell much about it right now. Even in the darkened atmosphere of the bar, I can still see the radiance of her light green eyes as she looks out over the crowd with her hands tucked nervously in the pockets of a tiny, denim skirt. I can’t see them, but I can imagine the dusting of freckles I know graces that perfectly shaped nose and her high cheekbones.

It’s been forever since I’ve seen her and I didn’t think it would be possible, but fuck… she’s even more gorgeous than I remembered.

I don’t even think. Instead, I start barreling toward Callie, cutting straight across the dance floor toward the back bar. It’s easy enough to make my way through the dancers, but I have to get a little rougher as I push my way past the thick wall of men all staring up expectantly.

And that exact minute, Callie nervously looks out over the crowd… her eyes passing over me and then slamming back in shock. Those full lips part in surprise, and my anger boils.

When I hit the edge of the bar, I hold my hand up, glaring at her… demanding she get down. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I’m surprised when her hand comes out of her pocket and tentatively reaches toward me. But then she reconsiders, a hard glint in her eye. Instead, she reaches up and takes the bottom of the t-shirt in her hands, pulling it up in between her breasts, looping it into the collar, and then reaching underneath to pull it down, effectively creating a halter-like top. It plumps up her breasts and showcases a breathtakingly gorgeous view of her flat stomach and gently curved hips to where the denim of her skirt hangs dangerously low.

My fury rages at the same time the blood in my groin does, causing me to get shockingly hard. Christ… I don’t think I’ve reacted that way to a woman since I was in my teens. She smirks down at me at the same time I hear Angel say, “Alright, men. Let those girls have it.”

Champagne and beer starts spraying up at the girls, and given my position at the edge of the bar, I get a hefty dosing too. My fucking hat is going to be ruined, but I never take my eyes off Callie as she gets sprayed right in the chest. Instantly it seems like the thin, white fabric disappears, and all I can focus on is her perfectly rounded breasts with pebbled nipples. I tear my eyes off her chest and look up to see her looking out over the crowd and grinning. She looks to her right at the other girls, who are now dancing to Miranda Lambert’s Somethin’ Bad, and she fucking starts to do the same. Those amazing tits are now bouncing around, and I swear a thin, red film of rage filters over my sight.

When a man—clearly a tourist—next to me reaches up to grasp Callie’s cowgirl boot, I give him a rough shove away. He looks like he wants to come barreling back at me, but one look at the thunderous look of murder on my face and he holds his hands up in supplication.

I slide my eyes up to see Callie staring down at me. For just a moment, she looks at me the same exact way she did all those years ago when she offered up her innocence to me.

“Fuck,” I mutter, and my hands go up to clasp her behind her knees. I give a hard pull, and her body flies forward. My hand goes up, steadying her fall with a grip to her ass, and I have her resting in a fireman’s hold over my shoulder. I turn fast and I think her boots catch someone in the head, but I don’t give a shit.

I march right back through the dance floor, people scurrying to get out of my way. Callie makes feeble attempts to hammer her fists against my back, so I answer her with a resounding slap to her ass. That gets her to calm down, and by the time I reach my office door and I’m punching in the password, she’s gone still over my shoulder.

Pushing the door open, I step in and immediately see Bridger getting his cock sucked by Carlie. He shoots me a surprised look when he sees I’m carrying a woman, but I’m already backing out and pulling the door closed.

Fuck. What a mess.

I bend over and gently lower Callie to the floor. When her boots hit the wood, she tips her face up at me, her eyes blazing with anger. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Woolf Jennings?”

Grabbing her hand, I don’t respond. I merely pull her behind me through the club toward the front doors. She makes the mistake of trying to pull free of my grasp, but I just clamp down on her harder.

When we hit the gravel parking lot, I turn to the right and head toward my Range Rover that’s parked in one of two reserved spots on the side of the building. The other one is reserved for Bridger and his shiny, red Corvette. My strides are long, and Callie is running to keep up with me.

“Let. Me. Go,” Callie all but screams and she pulls on her hand so hard, she rips free of my hold.

I turn around to face her, and she has both hands on her hips. “Just why do you think you have the right to pull me off that bar?” she demands.

God, she’s so fucking beautiful. My eyes drop lazily down to her breasts that are for all intents and purposes naked under the wet material that leaves nothing to the imagination. Licking my lower lip in appreciation, I imagine what it would be like to suck one of those nipples gently into my mouth right now. I make sure she sees this move on my part, and I hope she takes good stock of the lecherous glint in my gaze as I look back up at her.