Corps Security: The Series (42 page)

“Your little friend from the other night?” I say, pointing over his shoulder to the little hooch in the corner. The look of shock on his face is almost comical. He really had no clue that she was standing there.

“Motherfucker,” he grumbles under his breath. “She is not with me. Come on, Beauty, run away with me.”

I look into his eyes a few seconds. I’m trying to decide if that really was a line or not, before bending over, and laughing so hard that the people left in the lobby all look over at me as if I have lost it.

“That was terrible. You want some of this, you’re going to have to try harder than some cheesy ass lines.”

I pick up my clutch before standing. Once again, I am reminded of how powerful and
large
this man is. In my heels, I come close to six feet tall but he still looks down on me.

“Come on, Beauty. Just a ride.”

“Maybe later, stud.”

“You crush me,” he says dramatically, clutching his hand to his heart.

“Does that work for you on the ladies?” I ask, a smile coming over my face. It’s been a while since I found myself enjoying a man’s company.

“Haven’t a clue. Never bothered enough to try. I’ll settle for a dance later, but only if you tell me your name.”

I hadn’t realized until this moment that I was a complete stranger to this man.

“I don’t know . . .” I trail off, looking down at Emmy, only to find her looking across the lobby where the other three Corps Security men stand. The lightheartedness has left her face. “Maybe later,” I throw out before grabbing her hand and pulling her through the lobby.

Right before we round the corner that will take us to my car, I turn around and lock eyes with Greg. He doesn’t look disappointed. No, he looks like I just handed him one hell of a challenge. One that he plans on being the victor of.

CHAPTER 8

Greg

How the hell did I strike out with her again? I’ve been fighting the urge to throw her over my shoulder and run since I saw her down in Izzy’s dressing room. The whole time I was standing up there next to Axel, my eyes kept finding her in the crowd. Wasn’t hard, that red dress was like a waving flag, and I was the raging mad bull. There was no doubt in my mind now; I wanted her and I wouldn’t stop until I had her.

“You do realize that your little plaything is turning into a DEFCON 2 stalker, right?” Beck leans up against the wall beside where I stand watching Emmy and my mystery woman walk to an older model car. She turns and gives me another wicked, full of promise stare before dropping into the driver’s seat.

“That’s some serious shit you need to deal with, but if those tits look as good in person as they do from across the room, I’d be happy to help you out. You know, take one for the team.”

“Shut the fuck up, Coop.”

“Problem?” Locke asks, walking over. His date for the evening, an attractive looking redhead, stands off to the side looking clearly bored.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Sure you can, that’s why big tit Barbie keeps following you around like a sick little puppy.”

“More like a deranged bitch,” I mumble. “I have it under control. Either of you riding with me over to Axel’s?”

“Just me and Coop.”

I look over at Locke and catch his small nod confirming Beck’s words.

“Got it. Going to take out the trash, then be ready to ride.”

I have to remind myself a few times to control my temper. Control. I have to completely lock down every urge I have to get in her face and flip the fuck out. I don’t do clingy women. Hell, I haven’t done the same woman in years. When I met her, she was a means to an end, a way to keep my dick from falling off. I have told her from day one that there would never be more than the two of us spending time naked. No dating, no meeting friends, and no fucking acting like I am a piece of property.

There is no way Mandy is sane, standing there ready to take me on. No fucking way. She has the nerve to show up here at my family’s wedding, uninvited, and throw her shit. Shit that she has no right throwing. It is past time to cut her the fuck loose.

“Amanda.”

She tenses slightly at the hard tone I give her name. Literally, I’m spitting her name out with nothing but disgust dripping from my tone. I take her by the elbow and lead her off to the side hallway, away from listening ears.

“Would you like to tell me why in the fuck you are here?”

“Because baby, I knew you would want me to share this day with you.” I have to give the bitch credit; she honestly believes this bullshit. If I didn’t know better, I would think she really did want to be here. But I do know better, and I know there is nothing but calculating crazy-as-fuck scheming underneath the fake.

What. The. Fuck.

“Are you stupid? Please tell me you’re just slow, and missed the fucking memo titled ‘you are nothing but a warm body’? ” She flinches slightly but not enough. Apparently, it’s going to take a lot more than the normal brush off. This is going nowhere, shit.

“Don’t be silly, Greg.” She laughs slightly and reaches out to place her hand on mine, but I step back and watch her arm fall lamely back down.

“Listen to me, and listen to me real good, Amanda. I will not repeat this shit again. You and me, we are done. Completely and never going to fucking happen again done. The last time you will ever get my dick was last night. Whatever the hell you think is going on here, is not. I won’t be your man, and I damn sure will never climb back into your body. Hear me . . . This. Is Over.”

I don’t even give her a chance to respond. Turning around, I rejoin my boys before heading out of the church and off to the reception.

* * *

My mood isn’t any better three hours later. We did the traditional bullshit that always comes with weddings: more pictures than I care to ever be a part of again, dancing, cake cutting and dinner. Now the party is going hard, and the alcohol is flowing freely.

My eyes haven’t left the object of my desire since arriving. She doesn’t disappoint either. It seems like she is putting on a show just for me; the only fucking problem is her using all the single men here to do so. Her favorite seems to be the one and only manwhore himself, Zeke Cooper.

I have no idea what the hell they are dancing to now; I just know he is way too fucking close. When I watch his hand slip around her waist and pull her closer, I almost break my glass. When she throws her head back and laughs, her whole face lighting up with the humor, I go over all the ways I know how to kill a man. When his palm moves to her ass and squeezes, I see red. My whole body is draws tight and the desire swirling with the rage is a hard combination to filter through.

This kind of body consuming desire is new to me. Sure, there have been plenty of women in my thirty-five years, but none that makes me feel this way. And there damn sure hasn’t been one that has been able to walk away from me. Coop might annoy the shit out of me on a good day, but I have never considered ways to murder my friend before.

“You got it bad.”

“You have no idea.” I look over at Locke, noticing his eyes aren’t watching Coop and his partner, but are looking across the room at the table Emmy is sitting at while rocking a sleeping Nate.

“Gonna do anything about it?” He finally asks, after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah. Are you?” Clearly not expecting my question in return, he slowly turns his head and looks over at me. His dark eyes give nothing away.

“No.” And with that, he walks away, rejoining his date. At least I’m not the only miserable bastard in the room.

After a few more songs, Coop takes his soon-to-be-ripped-from-his-arms hands off of her body. She looks around the room before walking over to the bar, the bar that I haven’t left in almost an hour. Her eyes never leave mine. Her hips moving seductively to the music make my mouth water, and my pants tighten.

I will have her.

She walks up to the bar and asks for something. I couldn’t tell you what, because when she leans over the edge, her perfect ass is on display for my hungry eyes. My mouth waters and my fingertips tingle. Just imagining my fingers digging in hard and pulling her roughly towards my straining cock causes my already strung tight body to weep. I must have let out a groan because her head snaps up and looks me over.

“Want to take a picture?” Her question has me slowly, oh so slowly, bringing my eyes up to hers. She doesn’t look pissed, which is a plus. She looks like she is enjoying this slow fucking torture.

“Dance with me.” I look at her, just taking her in and wait for her to answer, a little shocked that the request even came out of my mouth. I hate dancing, but if it gets my body closer to hers, I will do anything.

“Just dance?”

“For now.” Taking her hand and leaving our drinks on the bar, I lead her to the middle of the room, pulling her close and crushing her body to mine.

Having her in my arms feels like coming home. I am not one to believe in all that love at first sight bullshit, but even as cynical as I am, I can recognize something bigger than lust at work. My body wants her; that is no secret, but the level of want is borderline craving. I need her. Needing someone is not something I am used to. No, I am used to being needed . . . something this woman clearly doesn’t want.

“What’s your name, Beauty?” I ask her again. I use the rhythm of the song to rock our hips together softly. Her arms dangle over my shoulders, and if I bend over slightly, our lips will be even. My fingertips are just barely ghosting over the swell of her ass. My cock is begging me to pull her flush, to feel her body against mine.

She ignores me and smiles coyly. She might be able to play off this aloof behavior as indifference to our connection, but her eyes can’t hold back. Her eyes are telling me everything I need to know. She might not have made up her mind as to what she wants but I can tell deep down she wants to find a dark room.

“Come on Beauty, tell me,” I plead. I’m not past it at this point and fuck if she wants me to call her Timmy and bark like a dog, I will.

She doesn’t answer, but her hands push into my hair and grab it in a firm hold, pulling the strands tightly. She comes off her heels and brings her mouth up to my ear. “What’s it matter?”

Normally I would hate games, but with her, it feels like foreplay. “Babe, I need to know what to call you when I slide my dick into your body.” Her gasp in my ear causes my already painfully hard dick to throb. She pulls back and looks at me; her wide blue eyes are sparkling with curiosity.

“You said just a dance.” Like I need reminding.

“Didn’t say we would be dancing with our clothes on.” We lock eyes for a few more seconds before I hear the song change and the soulful sounds of Sam Grow’s ‘Lay You Down’ fill my ears. If this isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is. I pull her close to my body, her tits crush against my chest, and my dick pushes into her stomach. My leg pushes between hers and I begin a slow, sex-filled rhythm with our hips. Bending down so that my lips are a breath away from her ear, I softly sing the words, making sure that every single ounce of promise I possess is present in the lyrics.

Wrapping one arm around her slim waist, I trail the other slowly up her spine before cradling her head lightly, turning it slightly to give me better access.

I can feel her breath coming rapidly against my cheek, and where my thumb rests against her neck, her pulse is pounding in frantic succession.

She wants this.

We continue our slow grind to the lyrics that feel like they were made for our dance. There is no doubt in my mind that if our clothes were absent, I would be deep inside her body.

CHAPTER 9

Melissa

I might have been able to hold my reserve about staying away from this man, until he takes me in his arms and basically blows my mind with just a dance. I am willing to sign my soul over at this point. I can feel him pressing against my stomach . . . every rock solid inch. Each time he rotates his hips with the beat of the song, a little more wetness seeps from my body. I am primed and ready to go, all because of this man.

When the song ends, he pulls back again and looks into my eyes. “Tell me.”

“Melissa,” I squeak. Yes . . . I squeak. The games are over now; this is too raw.

“Alright, Melissa,” he croons; my name curling around his tongue sends tingles across every inch of skin. “Let’s start over, hmm?”

I stare at this gorgeous man and nod my head like an idiot.

“Name’s Greg Cage. Most of my friends call me Greg, some call me Cage, but you can call me whatever you want.”

Really? Is he for real right now?

“Does that line ever work for you? And why would I call you Cage? Sounds like something you stuff a rabid animal in.” His eyes widen slightly before his rich laughter rings out around me. I’m sure I look like a crazy woman with the smile that takes over my face. Even I can tell it’s a bit too happy. Good Lord, he really is good looking.

“Damn babe, you’re either a lesbian or you just like chomping my balls.” He shakes his head, still letting out a few soft manly laughs. “Beauty, you can call me whatever you want as long as you’re screaming it.”

Before I can even process his actions, he bends down and gives me a quick but deep kiss. When he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, I know I might as well have just signed on the dotted line. The look he gives me is so full of promise that if I had been wearing underwear, they would have blown up, completely exploded, right from my skin.

“Come home with me.” I blurt.

He seems to ponder that for a minute before a feral smile graces his lips. He knows he won this round. I might be giving in to the sparks flying around us, but this was just going to be sex. Nothing more.

“Tell you what, let me finish up around here, and then we can go back to my place.”

“I’m not riding with you. I want my car there, just in case,” I mumble the end of that, but he doesn’t miss it. His eyes flash and his smile slips slightly.

Way to go Melissa, might as well take out an ad that lists all the issues you have.

“That’s fine, but I can assure you that you won’t want to leave for a long fucking while.”