Grace, who’d been chatting animatedly with Carlos and oblivious to Cora and Ren’s private conversation, clapped her hands and snapped Cora out of her erotic haze. “Okay, it’s time for me to make my debut. Everybody up. I need help picking a song. Plus, I might need background vocals.”
Carlos grabbed Josh’s shirt as Grace tugged at him. “Save me from the crazy blonde.”
Josh laughed and handed him another shot. “Drink up, babe. If she needs a background singer, that’s all you.”
Carlos kicked back the shot and said a prayer in Spanish.
Hayes scooted out of the booth to let the three of them free and looked ready to bolt. But Grace patted his bicep. “You, too, big guy. You can sing bass.”
The look on Hayes’s face was so stricken that Cora burst into a laugh.
He narrowed his eyes at her as she got to her feet. “Traitor.”
She pressed her fingers over her mouth so that the laugh wouldn’t turn into a drunk-girl guffaw, and Ren wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. “Maybe a little Guns N’ Roses, old man?”
Hayes flipped him off as Grace got ahead of them and waved them all toward the dance floor and stage. Hayes sniffed. “There is more chance of this place getting hit by a comet than me singing karaoke.”
Ren laughed and grabbed Cora’s and Hayes’s hands. “Come on, this will be fun.”
“I’m with Hayes. This is a bad idea.”
But Ren was already pulling them into the press of bodies on the dance floor. The smell of sweat and lust suffused the air and mixed with the alcohol humming in her veins. They got jostled and lost hold of one another. Ren had to step in front of her. She put a hand on his shoulder to create a train and reached back for Hayes.
He glanced down at her hand in surprise.
But she didn’t want to overthink it. Let her friends see what they see. She wiggled her fingers. “Come on. You’re gonna get lost.”
Hayes’s big warm hand closed over hers, making her feel tiny in comparison. “Lead the way.”
Having her hand on Ren’s muscular shoulder and the other clasped in Hayes’s hand helped them stay together but left her without much protection from the undulating bodies around her. The club played real music in between the karaoke performances and the patrons seemed to want to take advantage of the good music while they had it. Dancing people closed in around her. Hips bumping her, hands grazing. The physical effect wasn’t unpleasant, especially mixing in with the good buzz she had going from the tequila. Her skin seemed hypersensitized, every nerve ending aware and hungry as limbs and fabric brushed over her.
She closed her eyes, letting the sway of the crowd take her for a second while still holding on to her two buoys. The song was hypnotic with a pounding beat, the grinding rhythm of sex and sin. But before long, she could feel the sea sweeping her up in the motion. Her hand slipped from Ren’s shoulder and her other arm bent at an uncomfortable angle. Hayes released her, saving her from twisting it the wrong way.
She felt adrift but free all at once. Strangers danced against her, a mix of voices and music and fun. She put her hands above her head and let the music take her. Thump. Thump. Thump. The beat vibrated beneath her feet. But when someone bumped into her hard and she almost lost her balance, her eyes popped open.
Flashing lights were all she could see for a moment and then blurred faces as people moved around the dance floor. Whoa. Her head was spinning. She grabbed blindly, trying not to topple over. Too much tequila. Not enough air. But no one was standing still and it was like trying to grab bobbing boats.
She listed to the left a little too sharply, one of her shoes catching on a sticky spot on the floor, and she felt the fall coming with no way to stop it. But before she could sprawl onto her ass, Ren was there in front of her and Hayes behind. Hayes grabbed her waist and Ren pulled her against him. “Easy there, Benning.”
“Shit.” She braced her hands on his shoulders and the warm wall of Hayes closed in behind her. “Glad I didn’t wear those heels. Sorry.”
“No worries. We’ve got you. We won’t let you fall.” His face was only a few inches from her, his body pressed up along hers. The three of them moved without thought to the music, the two leading her effortlessly and keeping her on her feet.
“Better?” Hayes asked, voice close to her ear and sending a shiver down her neck.
Her feet were under her again. “Yeah. Much.”
Ren grabbed her hand. “Let’s go sing while you’re still buzzing. Then it’s soda for you for the rest of the night.”
She pressed her face to his shoulder. “No singing. Hayes, tell him not to make me sing.”
Hayes laughed behind her, the sound warm and rich against her ears.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Ren said. “No playing the big guy for sympathy. For anything else we do tonight, you can always say no. But this part is a foregone conclusion. Don’t leave me with karaoke blue balls.”
She snort-laughed. “You should go solo.”
“Not happening. Don’t make us put you over a shoulder and drag you up there.”
The song ended and Hayes stepped back. She turned to look at him, giving her best puppy-dog look. “Please save me.”
He smirked. “You’re cute when you beg. Maybe we’ll see more of that later.”
Her lips parted, the suggestion receiving a resounding yes from her libido, but she tipped her chin up. “Low blow, Hayes.”
Ren grabbed her hand. “Come on, time’s a-wastin’.”
She stumbled a bit in her boots.
“Hold up.” He stopped their progress and for a brief, shining moment, she thought maybe he’d let her off the hook. But instead he bent down.
“What are you doing?”
He grabbed her ankle and laced up the boot that had come untied. “I need you in fighting shape. There will be dance moves in our performance of awesomeness. I don’t want you falling into the audience.”
“I—”
His palm slid under her knee and squeezed, sending a shiver up her leg. The simple move had her wanting to blow this joint now. But too soon, Ren stood again. “Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, she followed. Grace, Carlos, and Josh were huddled around the binder that listed all the songs by the time they reached the front. Hayes stepped to the side, his gaze on Ren and Cora, his expression amused. Traitor, indeed. Ren tapped Grace on the shoulder. “Mind if we jump you in line? Cora’s dangerously close to losing her buzz.”
Grace lifted her head and turned to Cora, a giddy look on her face. “No shit? You’re actually going to sing? Yay!”
“I have not agreed to such—”
But Ren tugged her hand and dragged her toward the deejay. “Oh, you so have.”
Cora sent her friends a helpless look, but they seemed to be enjoying her downfall. Cora glanced at the crowd, which had now turned to face the stage, ready to roast the next horrible act to go up. Her stomach flipped over. “Ren, I—”
But Ren was already whispering something to the deejay and then guiding her to the stage. The club wasn’t huge but it was packed on a Saturday night, and every one of Cora’s shy-girl genes had a simultaneous panic attack.
A few people hooted and hollered when they got on stage—including Josh and Grace. And a few whistles went up, no doubt for Ren, who looked like he belonged on a goddamned stage. Cora, on the other hand, wanted to run. The last time she’d been on a stage she’d been trying out for the school play in ninth grade. She’d had some surge of bravery, letting her love of theater override her nerves. But that had lasted about two-point-three seconds because she’d frozen and had forgotten every line.
Her throat went tight. “I can’t do this. And what if you picked a song I don’t know?”
“If you don’t know this song, we’re getting a divorce. The girl who rigged the high school
computers for Broadway better show me what’s she’s got.” Ren handed her a microphone and leaned over to peck her on the lips. “You’ve got this, Benning. Have fun. No one gives a shit about how good we sing. They’re probably hoping we’re awful. They just want to be entertained.”
“People are gonna throw drinks at us.”
“Not a chance.” He turned to the crowd, flashing them a winning smile, and then spoke into his microphone. “We’re going to give this to you good, ladies and gentlemen, but I need a leather jacket and a boa if available.”
Cora blinked. What the hell?
The request seemed random and ridiculous, but before a few seconds passed, someone had passed a leather jacket up to the stage from the crowd and a gorgeous drag queen in the front row had kindly donated a pink feather boa.
“Excellent,” Ren said. He turned his back to the crowd and slid on the jacket in a reverse striptease, garnering catcalls.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The guy was so freaking shameless. He waggled his eyebrows at her and then strode over to drape the boa around her neck, leaving her standing there in a shimmery shirt and pink feathers.
He lifted her hand and kissed the top. “Showtime.”
The lights went down and Ren made a production of pretending to slick back the sides of his hair. The music started up and the first few notes were instantly recognizable. She closed her eyes and shook her head, unable to stop the goofy grin on her face.
Grease. Of course.
Ren popped the collar of his jacket, gave her a look dripping with sex appeal, and did his best John Travolta as he sang about chills multiplying and losing control.
Cora didn’t even have to look at the screen scrolling the words. She’d sung this song an embarrassing amount of times in the safety of her own room. Not that she could’ve taken her eyes off Ren anyway. He was all in, committing to the role and clearly not afraid to go over the top with his performance. When her part cued up, the smile he sent her was one of pure, boyish delight.
And it was damn contagious. She grinned back, knowing it was about to be the do-or-die moment. She could muddle her way through the lyrics, let everyone see just how uncomfortable she was. Or she could channel that tequila buzz, focus on the sexy, ridiculous spectacle in front of her, and forget about the crowd.
She was going to murder Olivia Newton-John’s part with a dull, rusty butcher knife, but she might as well do it to the fullest. People would assume she was drunk. She kind of was.
So with a confidence she channeled from some place outside herself, she put a hand to her hip, strutted across the stage, and sang to Ren that he better shape up. Because, dammit, she needed a man.
Or men, as the case may be.
Ren beamed and went nose to nose with her to sing his part and to back her up across the stage. When she got to the edge, he turned her in his arms and pressed her back against his chest. He was deliciously warm, his heart beating as fast as hers.
She knew the next line said the word affection, but she was starting to feel this now, feel the energy of their audience. She playfully ground her backside against his front and changed the line. “If you feel an erection, you’re too shy to display . . .”
The crowd erupted and Ren laughed hard behind her.
She spun in his arms and planted a hand against his chest, giving him a mock seductive look, continuing to change the words. “Better change your direction. Point it that way.”
He grinned wide, stole her boa, and then started singing the female portions. Ren sang about needing a man to keep him satisfied as she hijacked his leather jacket. He chased her across the stage and they continued to sing their switched parts.
By the time the song ended and they set their microphones down, the crowd was cheering and singing along. And Cora was blitzed on the high of it all. Ren wrapped his arms around her and picked her up off her feet to spin her around. The world blurred around her, sounds blending, and all she could see was Ren’s face in front of her, that handsome face and laughing eyes. She couldn’t stop herself. She hooked her legs around his waist, clasped his face in her hands, and kissed him.
It started out playful, a little more show for the performance, but it quickly went from fun to something altogether more heated. Ren’s hands gripped her ass, presumably to keep her from falling, but the contact made her groan and soon their tongues were twining and she was kissing him like a starving thing.
The people in the club egged them on and finally the deejay spoke over the loudspeaker. “Now who’s going to follow that performance?”
The stranger’s voice broke Cora from her lusty haze and she pulled away from the kiss, panting. She stared down at Ren with wide eyes. “Shit.”
“I second tha—” His gaze shifted over her shoulder, his words hanging unfinished, like he’d caught something shiny in his vision. The heated look from a moment earlier disappeared and his mouth sank into a frown. “Let’s get off this stage.”
“Is everything okay?” She glanced over her shoulder, but all she could see were the bright lights and the happy crowd.
Ren stared in the same direction for a moment longer then shook his head. “Yeah, it’s fine. I thought I saw— Never mind. Time to give the spotlight to someone else.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
She unhooked her legs and he set her on her feet. Her knees wobbled a little beneath her, the adrenaline and the alcohol a little too much for her system. They dropped off the boa and jacket with the deejay, and then Ren put a hand to her lower back to guide her toward the stairs that would get them off the stage. Her friends were there, clapping and offering praise.
Grace gave her a big hug and whispered in her ear, “Holy shit, girl. You better hit that and then tell me all about it.”
Cora snorted and gave her a playful swat on the hip. “You’re terrible.”
She leaned back and fanned herself, glancing at Ren. “Whew, you guys are going to be a tough act to follow. Carlos, you gonna come up there and make out with me?”
“You wish,” he said.
“God, do I.” But she just grinned and jogged up on the stage to grab the microphone. “Who wants to hear some P!nk?”
The crowd seemed down for that and Grace started a rousing rendition of “Slut Like You.”
Cora and Ren walked toward the edge of the crowd, both needing air and something to drink. Josh and Carlos could cheer Grace on. But when Cora and Ren broke through the thickest part of the spectators, Cora pulled up short. Leaning against the wall near the side of the stage was Hayes, expression darkly sexy and gaze solidly on them.
Something tightened in her belly. Hell, she’d just made out with this guy’s boyfriend right in front of him. But he looked anything but offended. Instead, the head-to-toe perusal he gave the two of them could’ve set their clothes on fire.
Ren still seemed distracted, though, peering over his shoulder one more time before asking Hayes, “Is that water?”
Hayes lifted the unopened bottle in his hand and Ren took it from him. “Thanks.” Ren took a long swig from it and then held it out to Cora. “Drink. You’re flushed.”
She almost told him her pink cheeks had nothing to do with lack of hydration, but she grabbed the bottle and drank. She caught Hayes watching her. When she was done, she handed the water back to him. “How bad were we?”
“I was highly entertained. Too many clothes on the both of you, though.” His mouth kicked up at the corner, smug. That’s when she saw the glimmer of it. Dmitry. The man with a wicked side and a sense of humor. That sent a little thrill through her. A thrill and nerves. She’d barely been able to handle that guy on the phone. “So, um . . .”
“We should dance,” Ren declared.
Cora looked to him. “What?”
“Come on. Grace actually sounds pretty good, and they’ll play something after she’s done.
We’ll dance and then get out of here.”
“I— Yeah, okay,” Cora said.
“Have fun,” Hayes said, voice even.
Ren glanced between the two of them and shook his head. “Oh, hell no. It’s all of us or nothing. We’re here to have fun. Let’s go, Fox.”
Hayes’s mouth tightened. Almost like the words had jabbed him, but finally, he let out a breath. “Fine. One dance.”
Ren led them to the dance floor as Grace’s song ended and the deejay switched back to club music since no other suckers had volunteered yet to sing.
Ren put a hand to her hip and Hayes wrapped an arm around her waist from behind. The small sober, logical part of her said that she should maybe be worried that her friends would see her sandwiched between them, that they’d get ideas. Accurate ideas, but ideas nonetheless. But then she had to laugh at herself. As if her friends would ever entertain the idea that hermit Cora was going to bed with both of these guys. They’d believe she was an alien from the planet Zort before they believed that.
So she closed her eyes and found that place inside her that was getting easier and easier to access lately, that part that didn’t worry so much about what other people thought, and she danced. She hadn’t done it since college. And maybe not even then. Just dance without a care. Usually it took massive amounts of alcohol to even get her moving, but with Ren’s and Hayes’s hands on her as they danced and the scent of them surrounding her, she couldn’t think about anything else but the sweet oblivion of this moment. The pure feeling of it.
One song turned into another and another, and the guys moved her between them, sometimes having her face Hayes, sometimes Ren. And they danced with each other, too. A few of the people around them joined in at times, the whole thing becoming one big, happy mass of humanity. It was freeing and amazing and so much fun, Cora found herself laughing for no reason at all. Soon she was slick with sweat and moving without thought, hands in the air and hips rocking.
When a song with a slower beat replaced a fast one, Hayes spun her around and gathered her to him. Ren closed in behind her, cocooning her from any interference.