Aced (8 page)

“So is this a weekly thing for you?” I asked when we stopped beside him. “Wild parties, open bar, people everywhere?”

Ace’s eyes twinkled. “I prefer my gatherings a bit more…intimate.”

And didn’t that make my cock twitch. “Then what’s the occasion?”

The bartender set three shot glasses in front of us, rimmed with what looked like salt, as well as a lemon garnish.
 

Oh God.
I had a tendency to get naked and dance on bar tops when tequila was involved, so if this was how the night was starting off…
shit
. Not good. Not good at all.

Ace handed us each a shot and said, “It’s called a birthday party, and since I’m the birthday boy, you’d be smart to let me have my way tonight.” Then he winked at me. “Bottoms up.”

The meaning behind those two words had me hesitating for a moment before licking the—oh fuck, was this sugar?—off the rim and downing the shot. The burn was minimal and the taste was sweet, and as Russ tossed the lemon into his glass, he said, “A lemon drop? Little girly for you, don’t you think?”

Ace gave a toothy grin. “Fruity is my flavor of choice lately, haven’t you heard?”

I snorted, and they both looked my way. “I’m sorry, but that is the last way I’d
ever
describe you.”

“Oh…?” Ace’s eyebrow shot up. “Care to enlighten me? After all, it is my birthday.”

As he and Russ looked at me expectantly, I swallowed. Hard.
Huh.
Hard
is also a word I’d use to describe him…and the ache between my thighs when he’s around.
What the fuck was I supposed to say that I
could
say out loud?

Ace’s brow dropped infinitesimally as he sensed my hesitation. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just fucking with you.” Then he took a lowball glass from the bartender and squeezed my shoulder. “Enjoy the open bar, guys. And maybe grab something a little more manly for Russ next time.” With a cheeky half-smile, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

“I’m gonna get us a real shot. Tequila okay?” Russ didn’t wait for an answer before he leaned over the bar to place his order.

“Actually, I’d prefer the girly shit,” I said, and Russ gave me a quizzical look over his shoulder.
 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

He shrugged and switched up the drink order, and then turned to face me. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just…I mean, I never pictured Ace Locke walking up to a bar and ordering a fucking lemon drop.”
 

“Well, that’s the difference, then, isn’t it? He didn’t even have to ask for one, they just knew what he wanted. That’s badass if you ask me. Plus, it tasted a helluva lot better than that shit you’re about to force down your throat.”

“Gonna have to agree to disagree there.” Russ handed me a glass and held up his own. “Cheers to the next twelve weeks, where we’ll be wet and covered in seamen.”

I choked out a laugh before throwing back the shot.
I’d like to be covered in one seaman in particular…

I licked the mix of sugar and lemon from my fingers. “I’m a little sticky.”

“That’s what he said,” Russ replied without hesitation.

I laughed again. “I asked for that.” Then I scanned the room, looking for a restroom. It was probably back out toward where we came in. “I’m gonna go wash up and then I’ll be right back.”

“Try not to get too clean,” he said, with a gleam in his eyes. “Or lost, for that matter.”

“Right.” I gave him a small smile, and as I headed back into the crowd, I let it drop.
 

I hated that this was turning out to be one of those dates where ten minutes in you just knew it wasn’t going to work. And it wasn’t like Russ had done anything wrong. It was just more a feeling, and the fact that I got such a hard-on for Ace even just looking at the guy probably didn’t help any romantic feelings toward Russ. Maybe I’d take him up on the tequila when I got back, just to let loose and have a good time with no strings attached.
 

Now where the hell is the damn bathroom?

A line wrapped around one side of the room, and I had zero doubt that me and about twenty others were thinking the same thing. As I turned to find another one, a tall redhead stumbled into me.
 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, as she righted herself. “I swear that happens all the time.”

“What, running into people?”

“Yes, actually,” she said, tucking a strand of her curly hair back into her updo. “Two left feet and all.”

“Is your name Grace, by chance?”
 

Her face brightened. “My mum calls me that. How’d you guess?”

“Something my mom always say too.”

“Huh. Well, you can call me Shayne,” she said, holding out her hand, and I went to shake it but then pulled my hand back.
 

“Dylan. Sorry, I’d shake your hand, but things got a little sticky at the bar.”

“No worries. So, Dylan…” she said, and looked past my shoulder at the line behind me. Then she leaned in and whispered, “You know, there’s a bathroom upstairs and to the left that you could use. Just let the security guy know Shayne Callahan sent you and you can go right up.”

I glanced over to the main staircase, roped off and guarded by a big guy in a suit. The upstairs was empty, and since the line I was in hadn’t moved since I’d started standing there, I had a feeling it might be a while. Yeah, okay. Two minutes versus a half an hour. It wasn’t like I was going up there to do a Peeping Tom routine.

“Thanks, Shayne, I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll see you around after.”

Her lips tipped up on one side as she nodded. “Oh, you can count on it.”

6

THANK YOU FOR COMING

SHIT. I’VE LOST him
, I thought, as my manager Roger Herschman kept on about how excited he was about my upcoming project and the fact it was being filmed here at home so I was available for any kind of press he may wish to organize…blah blah blah.
 

Honestly, I wasn’t really paying attention to anything coming out of his mouth, because I’d been busy watching Dylan and Russ out of the corner of my eye ever since I’d left them over at the bar. I’d been doing a pretty good job at it too, until Roger snagged my elbow to introduce me to some up-and-coming producer and turned me so my back was to them for all of a few minutes, and when I’d turned back—
poof
—Dylan was gone.

As I scanned the surrounding area, I narrowed my eyes to see better through the low lights, but when my eyes landed on the back of Russ’s blond head, where he was standing alone, I knew I was right. Dylan was definitely missing.

Huh, I wonder where he’s run off to?
Was he chatting with someone else? Wouldn’t surprise me if someone had wanted his attention. The guy was stunning. Anyone who was single and possessed half a brain would be trying to get closer to him. And the fact that Russ had let him out of his sight made me wonder how smart that guy was.
 

A man like Dylan Prescott left alone walking through one of my parties, a party full of men from all facets of the entertainment industry, was like offering up a fresh piece of meat to a pack of ravenous animals.
 

Not only was Dylan striking to look at, he was charming, and once he flashed that dimpled grin at the right director, photographer, or, hell, a guy on the prowl, Russ would be shit out of luck…
and
out of a date. Which was exactly why
I’d
been keeping my eye on Dylan. No one was going to steal my present out from under my nose on my birthday. I’d had him prepackaged and delivered to my doorstep, so to say.

“Did you lose someone?”
 

Shayne’s familiar voice had me looking to my right, and there was a mischievous grin on her face that had me instantly suspicious.
 

“Maybe…”

She hooked her arm through mine and gave Roger a quick little wave that then confirmed my early hunch—she was up to something.

“So…” she said as we casually walked through the crowd back toward my staircase. “A few minutes ago, I saw a young man who wasn’t supposed to go upstairs somehow charm his way past Frank.”

I looked at her all-too-knowing expression and felt the side of my mouth twitch. “Did you now?”

“Mhmm,” she said, and then nodded. “You really should talk to Frank about letting a pretty face sway him when it comes to security matters.”

When we reached the bottom of the stairs where my six-foot-five wall of a security guard stood, Frank shook his head and gave a wry grin. “Are you runnin’ around telling lies again, Miss Shayne?”

“Lies?” she asked, bringing her fingers to her chest. “I would never.”

One of Frank’s black eyebrows arched and then he brought his gaze to mine. “A young man was given permission by a Shayne Callahan to use the upstairs facilities.”

I widened my eyes and glanced at my Aussie friend. “Did she?”

Shayne whistled and looked at the ceiling, before bringing her eyes back to mine. “Don’t act like you aren’t cheering inside like a schoolgirl right now. Get upstairs before his boyfriend notices he’s missing.”

Shayne was pretty spot on with her assessment—however, I’d liken it more to a growling dog with his bone. “He’s
not
his boyfriend.”

“Well, he’s the guy he showed up with, but he doesn’t have to be the guy he leaves with…if he leaves at all,” she said, waggling her brow.
 

Frank chuckled and took a step back to undo the rope for me.
 

“Okay, okay, Miss Matchmaker. I got it from here,” I said, and headed past the rope. “Thanks, Frank. Keep this area clear, yeah?”

“You got it, bossman.”

With each step I took up the stairs, my pulse thumped in time to the music blaring through my home’s sound system.
God, am I really about to do this?
And when I reached the top landing, I asked myself…which
this
was I referring to?

What exactly did I want to happen right now? I had no fucking idea, but when I walked down the shadowed hallway toward the left wing of the house, I saw Dylan step out of one of the bathrooms on the floor. He shut the door behind him, and it was only due to the low light from the wall sconces that I could see his silhouette. He hadn’t noticed me just yet. He was looking at a Demuth that I’d recently acquired, and when he took a step closer to it, I took the moment to get a hold of myself.
 

There, three steps away from my bedroom, stood the man I had fantasized about on numerous occasions. He was so close to the one place I wanted him most, and I wasn’t going to let him get away.

He didn’t notice as I advanced, his focus still intent on the painting of the
Turkish Bath
, so when I came to a stop beside him and leaned against the wall, he startled.
 

Dylan’s hand went over his heart. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Is it the giver or the receiver that has you so intrigued?” I gestured toward the painting, and when he didn’t respond right away, I asked, “Up here all alone?”

“Yeah, I just needed to wash your fruity shot off my hands, and Shayne said it was okay to come up, so if it’s a problem—”

“My…shot?” I looked down at my pants and then grinned back up at him. “Well, not yet, but there’s still time to come.”

His eyes went wide, and then a slow smile crept across his face.
 

“So. Which is it?” I inclined my head at the painting again, and when I took a step toward him, he took one step back.
 

Little tease.
 

His stare grew confident and he said, “What makes you think I’d choose between one or the other?”

Oh god
damn
. That perfect response sent my cock into throbbing mode, and it was all I could do not to reach down to rearrange the erection I was now sporting. I took another step forward, and he backed up with me. I wondered if he realized that one more step and he’d be in my bedroom. Right where I wanted him.
 

“What about you?” he asked. “Better to give than to receive?”

“I haven’t quite made my mind up about that yet,” I answered honestly, continuing to move forward. “But you could say I’m open to persuasion.”

Dylan stopped and gave me a curious look. “You’re full of surprises if that’s true.”

“It’s true.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that—” His words cut off as he realized he’d been backed into a room. And not just any room. “Is this—”

“My bedroom? Yes,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.
Shit.
Now that I had him where I wanted him, I wasn’t sure what the fuck to do with him. Okay, strike that—I knew what I
wanted
to do, but my limited experience in these situations had me feeling suddenly…nervous.
 

A Cheshire Cat grin crossed Dylan’s face as he moved around me. “Your bedroom, huh? If this were mine, I’m not sure I’d leave.”

You don’t have to,
was my immediate thought, but I just bit down on the inside of my cheek as I watched him walk toward the door. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. What the hell was I thinking bringing this guy I barely knew up to my room and—

Dylan kicked the door shut.

Oh
fuck
.

Then he crossed back over to me, stealthy as a panther in the darkened room. The only light came from behind the curtains on the far wall, and while it wasn’t enough to see the color of his eyes, it was more than enough to see as he licked his lower lip when he came to a stop in front of me.
 

“Was this your plan?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Invite me over…get me in your bedroom…”

My racing heart could’ve answered that question for him it was beating so hard, and I almost wished it would, since being this close had every thought fleeing my brain. Especially when he leaned in like he was going to whisper in my ear, his words a silky breath across my chin.
 

“What happens next?” Dylan fingered the buckle of my belt, and I immediately reached down to still his hand.