Growing up, dating and sex hadn't ever been priorities, but on the occasions where I thought about it, fantasized about it, it was always passionate, but nothing like what I'd experienced with Dax.
The thing that worried me as Dax pulled me against his side was something I hadn't taken into consideration. While some people always compared kisses to a first perfect kiss, most people didn't tend to do that with their first sexual experience. From everything I'd heard, most of the time, it was awkward and often disappointing. The fact that my first time had been the kind of sensual experience that should've only existed in the pages of some steamy romance novel, and each time after that had been just as good, made me worry that I was setting myself up for disappointment.
My body pulsed in time with the beat of the music, and even though I knew I was going to be sore tomorrow – I was already starting to feel it – I wanted more. I wanted to dance with him, feel his body pressed against mine. It wasn't just about getting us worked up either. I wanted to show every woman in here that I'd had him, and I would be having him again.
The spot on my neck where he'd bit me didn't hurt, but I was definitely aware of its presence. I didn't know if he meant anything by it, or if it was a heat of the moment kind of thing, but I couldn't stop myself from hoping he wanted people to see it, and know that we were together.
Well, not together together, because he wasn't my boyfriend. We weren't dating. A date had to be labeled as a date and agreed upon, right? And we definitely hadn't done that. We talked at dinner, but we never broached the subject of what it was. Which meant we weren't on a date.
As we made our way around the dance floor, Dax stiffened next to me. I looked up but wasn't surprised to see that I couldn't read a single thing on his face. I followed the direction of his gaze, hoping for a clue to what was going on...and my own body tensed.
Coming straight toward Dax and me was a familiar, and unwelcome, figure. Long light brown hair, eyes as black as coal. Enough metal on her face to make me wonder what happened when she went somewhere with a metal detector. She shot me a glare, but for the most part, her gaze was fixed on Dax.
He started to walk past her when she reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her hand, up at her, then raised an eyebrow.
“Outside.” She had to shout to be heard.
Dax gave a sharp nod and led the way, practically dragging me behind him. As we went, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to hear this conversation. Clearly, Dax knew who she was. I'd assumed as much, but there was a difference between assuming and knowing.
I shivered as soon as we stepped outside, remembering that Dax had handed our coats to someone when we first arrived. His arm went around me, and he pulled me against his side. The embrace felt stiff, but I wasn't going to complain. He was warm.
“What do you want, Cleo?” Dax's voice was flat, almost bored-sounding.
“Haven't seen you in a while.” She gave him the sort of smile that told me exactly what she meant by seen.
“What do you want?” he repeated. “As you can see, I'm busy.”
Busy. Yeah, that was one way to describe it.
“We have a...” one side of her mouth lifted in a smirk, “mutual friend who wants to talk to you.”
I worked to keep a frown off my face. I didn't like the sound of that, but I didn't want either Dax or Cleo to know. Dax wasn't mine. Not in the sense that I had the right to know things about him, or to feel anything about his life. We weren't even close enough as friends for me to ask about what was going on.
Still, I wasn't prepared for what Dax did next.
“Do you have a car you can call?”
It took me a moment to realize that he was talking to me. I nodded, repressing a shiver as he dropped his arm and took a step away from me.
“A security guy is standing just inside the door,” Dax said, his eyes not meeting mine. “Tell him you need your coat, and stay inside until your car gets here. You don't need to be out here alone.”
I wanted to snap back that if he cared that much, he could damn well stay with me, but I didn't. We weren't like that. And if I had to tell myself that over and over until it got through, I would.
I turned and walked back toward the door without responding. I wasn't sure I could keep my temper if I opened my mouth. Especially with the daggers Cleo was shooting at me. I doubted I would've liked her even if she hadn't threatened me.
I found the guy Dax mentioned, and while he was getting my coat, I pulled out my phone and called up the town car my uncle had reserved for family. Unlike some other car services, Gavin's was open twenty-four seven, so I knew I wouldn't have to wait long for someone to come for me.
When I was at Club Privé, I knew I was out of place, but I’d also known the reason – I was underage. Well, that and the obvious fact that it was a sex club. Here, I knew I was technically too young, but that wasn't why I felt awkward standing near the exit by myself. When Dax and I first arrived here, I'd seen that this place wasn't as nice as Club Privé, but I hadn't felt it until now. There was a definite difference between the people I'd been around at my uncle's club and the ones here. Some people might've thought it was about the money since Club Privé was private, elite, but I'd been around money long enough to know that wasn't it. I'd felt safe at my uncle's club, even before I knew he owned it. Here, I wasn't about to let down my guard.
That meant it wasn't until I was in the back of one of Gavin's cars, on my way back home, that all those thoughts about Dax started pushing forward. I still felt more like a guest at Carrie and Gavin's loft, but New York was starting to feel more like home than DC ever had. I'd loved Nana and Papa, and I’d always known they loved me. They never made me feel like I owed them anything.
But it hadn't been home.
Especially once I told my mother that I was moving to New York. Things had been pretty tense around the house after that. We'd exchanged a couple texts since I arrived in the city, but no way could I go to her to talk over what happened tonight.
The problem was, I didn't think I could talk to Carrie either. The last time I'd discussed Dax with my aunt, she'd fired him from his security job at Club Privé. I didn't want to think what she'd do if I told her about Cleo warning me away from him, or the fact that Dax had pretty much blown me off with one word from her.
I kept telling myself that he hadn't been happy to see Cleo, and he certainly hadn't been flirting. His sending me home had to do with whoever this “mutual friend” of theirs was and not anything to do with me.
That didn't keep my mind from trying to show me images of Dax and Cleo together. Of him taking her to the same back room we'd been in and peeling off her painted-on leather pants so he could fuck her. Of her moaning his name. Him saying hers. Marking her like he'd marked me.
“Knock it off,” I muttered to myself.
I wasn't the jealous type, at least I didn’t think I was, although I’d never been in a relationship long enough to really know. Besides, Dax didn't seem to like Cleo very much. Surely he wouldn’t have sex with someone he didn't like when he'd just had sex with someone he did. Because I was certain he like me. As a friend, of course. Nothing more.
And that was the other thing I needed to keep remembering. I had no claim on Dax, and he had none on me. We were friends, or at least well on our way there. Even if we kept the “with benefits” part of things, it wasn't a relationship.
After I thanked my driver and headed inside, I realized that the fidgeting I'd been doing in the car hadn't been as absent-minded as I thought.
My fingers kept tracing around and over the dark mark Dax's mouth had left on my skin.
I sighed. Dammit. This wasn’t part of my plan.
Chapter Five
Dax
I told myself that the reason I hated watching Bryne go back into the club without me was because I'd been looking forward to fucking her again. Having her only a few minutes ago wasn't even close to enough. Hell, I'd just come, and was already half-hard fro
m thinking about being inside that tight pussy again.
My desire for sex couldn't completely rationalize the fact that I'd told her to stay inside until her car came. I wasn't a total asshole who didn't care about women being safe, but with anyone else, I doubted the thought would've crossed my mind. I would've assumed she knew how to take care of herself and left it at that. I knew Bryne was capable, but the thought of something happening to her had me wanting to go after her so I could make sure she was safe.
I had to keep my cool though. It wouldn't be smart to let anyone know the sorts of thoughts Bryne made me have. Especially not Cleo.
As I looked down at her, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one up. She held the pack out to me, and I shook my head, glaring at her. The only grandparent I remembered had died from lung cancer when I was a kid. Remembering how Gramp had looked those last couple months had always been enough to keep me from lighting a death stick.
And Cleo damn well knew it.
We'd gone out on and off for a few months a couple of years ago, and while I'd never gone so far as to call her my girlfriend, she knew more about me than anyone else I'd been with. I didn't even like to say that we dated because that implied something even less casual than what we'd had. We'd hung out a decent amount, but it wasn’t because I'd asked her to or anything. One of her cousins worked at the shop, and she'd always made that her excuse.
I'd practically been fucking her by default. I'd never led her on, but that wasn’t how she saw it.
“Now that you've lost the excess baggage, how about you and me have a little fun before we go?” She ran one long fingernail down my arm.
“Not interested.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “Tell me what you're doing here.”
A scowl twisted her lips, and she crossed her arms. Some people might've thought she was standing that way because she was angry, but I knew she was trying to get me to look at her breasts. Why else would she have her coat unzipped in the middle of January?
“Like I said, we have–”
I cut her off. “Who is it? And you better not have made it up.”
“Booker.”
Shit.
I'd suspected that was whom she meant when she hadn't said his name, but I'd still been hoping this was all some sort of game she was playing.
“Where is he?”
“Follow me.”
I wanted to grab her and make her tell me where we were going, but it didn't really matter. If Booker North wanted to see me, and he'd sent Cleo to get me, then I had to assume that he wanted her to escort me to him. If he'd told her to just to give me the location, and she was being ignorant, it was his problem, not mine. And Cleo knew better than to piss Booker off, which meant she was most likely following exactly what he'd told her to do.
Booker was in his mid-thirties and was one of the scariest sons of bitches I'd ever come across. Georgie liked to run his mouth and talk big, but he didn't do shit without Booker's permission. Booker not only owned DeMarco's & Sons, but he was the one to kill old man DeMarco and the two sons.
At least, that was the rumor. No one really knew what actually happened to them. Less than two days after the old man refused to sell Booker the shop, the family disappeared, and Booker was the new owner. Case closed. No one spoke of it again.
Georgie was the one who'd gotten me a job at the shop when I was sixteen, and I'd suspected that many of the other guys there were in the same gang as him. Since I'd never been a member, I hadn't realized that someone new had taken over a few years ago until I showed up at work to find the DeMarco’s gone. There'd been a change in leadership, and now Georgie was number two to the new leader. They'd pretty much left me alone since I kept my mouth shut, but I'd always been aware that, someday, that would probably change.
I'd met Booker only once, and it wasn't an experience I was eager to repeat, but knowing that he'd asked to see me and that he'd sent Cleo instead of Georgie, was a good indication that this wouldn’t lead anywhere good.
I knew the gang did a lot of unsavory shit, but the shop was only involved in selling stolen car and motorcycle parts. Well, that and some money laundering. I had no doubt that some of the guys I worked with had decent rap sheets and probably violent offenses, but none of them measured up against what Booker was rumored to be into.
By the time we got to the subway, I was trying not to shiver and was mentally cursing Cleo for not telling me I'd need my coat. When we got off near the shop, I was pissed as well as cold. If she'd just told me that we were coming here, I could've gotten my coat and followed her.
I didn't say anything though. I might not have gotten the best grades in school, but I was no idiot. I knew when it was time to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open, and this was definitely one of those times.
We went inside, Cleo still leading the way. When we passed the break room, she spoke, “Remember how many times we fucked in there? It used to turn me on, knowing the guys were out here, listening.”
I remembered. I also remembered how she'd leave the door unlocked and talk about how she hoped Georgie or someone would come in and ask to join us even after I told her I wasn't into threesomes, especially not with another guy.
Yet another reason why I didn't feel guilty for breaking things off with her. She liked to act like the two of us had been in some serious relationship, but I knew she was fucking other guys at the same time, trying to make me jealous. When she'd thrown a tire iron at one of my one-night stands a year ago, that had been the last straw. I told her I didn't want to see her at all.
Since she'd gone to jail for assault a week later, that hadn't been an issue, but I'd heard she'd gotten out a couple weeks ago and wondered if she'd come back around. I hadn't figured she’d be playing messenger for Booker though.
We stopped at the office, and she knocked.
“Come in.” Booker's gravelly voice came from the other side of the door.
She pushed open the door and smirked at me before walking away. Apparently, she wasn't part of this conversation, which meant that Booker had either sent her to piss me off, or she'd volunteered for the same reason. Either way, I was on edge when I walked into the office and saw Booker leaning against the shitty metal desk.
Almost six and a half feet tall, bald, and with more tattoos showing than I had on my entire body, he was the type of person people were scared they'd run into in New York. And he didn't just look scary. He backed it up.
“Dax.”
“Booker.” I kept my expression neutral, knowing that Booker didn't respect ass-kissers, but he would also beat the shit out of anyone he thought was being disrespectful. It wasn't a fun line to walk.
“Sit.” He jerked his chin toward the only chair in the room.
I didn't want to sit, especially since I had no idea why Booker wanted to talk to me, but I wasn't stupid enough to disobey. I made myself look comfortable, but every muscle was tense. I didn’t pay much attention in school, but one of the things from biology that I'd always remembered had been the whole fight or flight response, and I felt it now. Adrenaline coursed through me, and it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep myself from moving. Fighting or running, I didn't know which, but I did know that I didn't want to be doing nothing.
“Georgie tells me you do good work,” Booker began. “And he says you know how to keep your mouth shut.”
I gave a short nod, my fingers drumming against my thigh.
“He also says you know some of the other stuff that goes on here.”
“I do.” The words came out even despite the knots working through my stomach.
“But you've never asked to get in on a job.” He made it a statement rather than a question, then went on without waiting for me to acknowledge it. “And as long as it didn't cause problems, I told Georgie to let you do your own thing.”
I almost frowned as I tried to figure out what I possibly could've done that was causing problems, but I managed to keep my face blank and waited to hear what Bo
oker had to say next.
“I’m expanding my business,” he continued. “And that means you'll be stepping up.”
I didn't like the sound of that, especially since it didn’t seem like he was asking.
“I've got a job planned, and we're one man short.” He pointed a finger at me. “You're that man.”
Fuck my life.
Chapter Six
Bryne
Two damn days.
Two silent, aggravating, damn days.
I'd been fine on Sunday. Well, mostly fine.
I'd been a little annoyed that Dax hadn't at least checked in to make sure that I made it home safe. I didn't think that was too much to ask from the man who told me to stay inside the bar until my car arrived because he didn't want me waiting outside alone. But I'd reminded myself more than once that just because Dax was polite enough to look out for my well-being while we were out together, he had no reason to check on me when he knew it was one of my uncle's drivers taking me home.
Then Monday had passed without a word. No call, no text, nothing to let me know that he was okay. I told myself that I had a right to be worried since he hadn't looked pleased that Cleo had facilitated an unplanned meeting with someone he’d dropped everything – including me – to get to. For all I knew, this mysterious mutual friend was someone dangerous. Between the warning Gavin had given me about Dax, and the men at the shop, it wasn't unthinkable that Dax had been walking into a less than ideal situation.
When I woke up this morning and my phone showed the same thing that I'd seen the previous two days, concern and annoyance became irritation bordering on anger. Some of that anger was directed at myself. I'd told myself multiple times that Dax and I weren't dating, that we were just friends, tentative ones at that, but I had no experience with any sort of sex, let alone the casual kind. I'd always thought that I'd be able to do the whole friends with benefits kind of thing because I was good at keeping my emotions in check.