Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) (11 page)

“It’s the basement.” She shrugs. “Cal doesn’t really use it. I think it’s nice.” She licks her lips as she comes in close. “Don’t you think it’s nice? Lots of room to do things.” She picks up my hands and rides my fingers up her ribcage. She’s bony, a lot less curvy than Ally, that’s for sure.

I gently pull back my hand. Molly’s like a predator—move too quick and you’re going to get bit. If it wasn’t for Ally and her all-encompassing power over me, I’d more than likely yield to Molly and her boner-inducing antics. She’s definitely got the looks, her body is budding nicely, and she seems like a sweet girl who very much wants to learn everything there is about life—right now—right here, in the basement. I’d better let her down easy. I’d hate to crush an ego and a fragile heart all at the same time.

“Look…” I swallow hard as she reaches for the bottom of her T-shirt and begins to pull it over her stomach. “No, no, don’t do that. I think you’re sweet, and pretty, and—”

“You think I’m pretty?” She perks to life as if I’ve just proposed.

“No, not like that.”

Her face drops.

“I mean
yes
like that. It’s just I’m not ready to go there with you.”

“Then you like me and you just need time.” She tilts her head and I get the distinct feeling I’ve succeeded in stringing her along.

Shit.

“I don’t need time. I think you need to find yourself a guy more your age. Someone who’s sweet just like you.” And hopefully not horny as hell.

“I’m not interested in boys my age. I like older men.” She cups her hand over my sweats and gives my dick a good squeeze.

“Shit.” I pluck her off and take a breath, waiting for the dull ache to subside. “I’m sure there are a lot of older men out there who would be willing to come down to the basement with you and help you move some
boxes
.” I raise my brows, calling her out on her little ruse.

“I get it.” A smile twitches on her lips. “It’s because of my brother. You think it’s weird that your sister and he have this thing. And now your mom.” It comes out bitter, as if somehow Mom and Kendall have managed to fuck things up between us—little does she know it’s Ally who’s the official cock block.

“Yeah.” I go with it. “That’s sort of a tough pill to swallow. Plus Cruise would kill me if he knew I was messing around with his baby sister.”

Her eyes fill with fire. She’s going to castrate him the next time she sees him. Already I’m liking the outcome here.

“I knew it,” she seethes. “That bastard threatened you, didn’t he?” She grunts in frustration. “He’s such a controlling asshole.” Her features soften almost instantly. “We won’t tell him. We’ll keep this a secret just between you and me, and no one will ever have to know. It can be our dirty little secret.” She giggles into the idea.

“Our dirty little secret?” Carrington seems to be overrun with just those very things.

“
Yes
.” She throws her hands around my neck and jumps in the air like she just won the lottery. “We could come down here, or I can sneak you into my room!” She bops up and down as if it were the best idea in the world. But it’s not. It’s officially the worst idea in the world.

“I think I’ll pass. You and me, Molly, we’re going to be family whether we like it or not. Face it—once Kendall and Cruise tie the knot, I’ll be nothing more than your big brother. If we let things get started, it’s going to get weird, fast.” I tick my head toward the exit. “Go on, get out of here. I gotta clear my head for a minute.” I feign a look of disappointment. “I wanted this just as bad as you did.” I hate dragging her down the path of deception, but the way her hips are grinding into mine I think siding with her is the only way to keep my balls safe.

“I’ll accept that.” Molly crushes her lips against mine, fighting to jam her tongue into my mouth until I pluck her off. “Just wanted to give you something to think about in case you change your mind.” She bats those doe eyes up at me. “And I have a feeling you will.” She swivels her hips all the way to the door before blowing me a kiss from over her shoulder.

Crap. Molly Elton is a spitfire from hell all right. Something tells me she has no intention of listening to a damn thing I just said.

I take in the open space around me and soak in the quiet, the solitude. It’s a shame to have so much prime real estate go unused.

I walk in a small circle, scoping out the nooks and crannies, and an idea comes to mind.

“Hot damn, Ally,” I whisper. “You are going to love this.”

And so am I.

5

FLIRTING WITH DISASTER

Ally

T
he Pretty Girls Gentlemen’s Club shines like a fallen star filled with demonic intent and idol worship, as it should because both are apparently good for business.

The club is hopping as girls make the rounds on the floor in their requisite G-strings, me included. Well, the G-string, not the rounds. I’m too busy breaking the first commandment for dancers that Dell carved out with his own finger: “
Thou shalt never stand alone in the presence of my customers.
”

A pair of cold hands grip my ribcage, and I jump two feet in the air.

Tess laughs as she fans herself with an array of white feathers. She looks gorgeous tonight in her naughty bridal attire, a plumed tail for added effect.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I say, trying to wedge myself back in the corner lest Dell become apprised of my fugitive-like status and fire me on the spot. I’m sure he wants to, but I bet Tess has made all his
Fan-tessys
come true to ensure that very thing won’t happen. Tess is all about self-sacrifice, and she’s never complained about paying in flesh to help out her family.

“Quit your bitchin’ and get out there.” She drives me from the corner, and an icy chill runs through me. “This place is packed with fat wallets tonight. You’ll go home with
bags
of money. Remember, eye contact, make them feel like they’re special. Really try to have that erotic connection. Nothing helps them part with their dollars faster than that.” She pats me on the bottom and gives a little wink. “Keep your eye on the prize, girl—and I’ll keep an eye on you.” She mouths, “You’ll be fine,” then leaves, throwing her hands over her head and swiveling her hips until she disappears into the crowd.

The room sways around me. I try to catch my bearings in this sea of faceless people. This overcrowded floor, these floating nightgowns, the disembodied voices—men in all shapes and sizes who’ve come to worship at the feet of women primped to emulate blow-up dolls—it all makes me dizzy.

A warm body zips in from behind and I turn, trying to gyrate my hips to the music until I see an all-too-familiar face—Woody Bates, a guy I know from Garrison.

He’s tall and muscular—not in a crazy beefcake way like Cal, but in a defined way. I’m not sure what it is, but he creeps me out just enough to send a red flag up every time I see him. Once in a while a guy will do that to me. There was William Howie, who I evaded my entire junior year of high school because he simply gave me hives when he looked at me, and then there was Rory, who hijacked my senior year and then my uterus. I shake the thought away before any unwanted imagery can surface. I hated just about everything about my senior year.

But at Garrison it’s Bates who’s taken the title of Campus Creeper, and now here he is, gawking at me in my pale-blue negligee with the peekaboo brassiere and the matching thong that leaves absolutely zero to the imagination.

“I was hoping to find you here.” He looks serious as a bout of clap, and suddenly I’m willing to forfeit every dollar bill in the world to get away from him.

“Well, it’s nice to see you. But I’m not allowed to hang out with anyone from school. You
know
, a girl’s gotta work.” I shrug as if I’d much rather bolt with him and head to Sigma Phi, but the truth is I’d rather stick my head under his tire as he backs out of the parking lot.

“So, maybe we can hang out afterward?” He comes in and wraps a hand around my waist uninvited, his thin-lipped smile pulling back as if it’s a given I’m leaving with him. “I got a whole lot of dollars with your name on them, honey.”

“Um, excuse me.” I gently remove his wandering hands in lieu of squeezing the shit out of his balls. “The last thing I need is the
real
customers to think I’m unfriendly. I’m not exactly doing this for my health, and if the night progresses in this direction, my wealth won’t be on the list either. So I’d better get back to work. I’m sure there are plenty of dancers here who would love to have some of your free time and money.” I spin him into the crowd. “Oh, look, there’s Kit from Tri Delta! She’s always talking about how cute you are!” I shove him into the crowd and make a run for it in the opposite direction. I didn’t really see Kit, but that’s unimportant at the moment.

A couple of older men stand to my left, examining me like they might be interested, so I sashay over with the finesse of a drunk belly dancer. Obviously I don’t have the skill set required for a seemingly innocent bump and grind. I look like I’m having seizures half the time.

The gentlemen are older, stately even. Swear to God I’ve seen the silver-haired one around town, most likely at the Bux while serving him a hot latte, only now I’m the hot latte in question, and I don’t feel too hospitable about the arrangement. In fact, the only thing I’m feeling is light-headed, as if passing out is a real possibility. I would bet all the money I’m highly deficient in at the moment that one of these geezers has MD tacked onto the end of his moniker and is willing to conduct a rather thorough physical if I let him.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” The elder of the two, sporting a white goatee, blasts the words over me in a Bacardi-scented heat wave.

“Angel—
Midnight
Angel.” I try to keep my hips moving like I was spinning an invisible Hula-Hoop, only I’m not doing such a great job because my Hula-Hoop is threatening to fall.

“So what do you two do?” Oh shit. I’m pretty sure asking about occupations was straight off the red-light, do-not-pass-go list of conversations. Oh, who the hell knows? Tess gave me so many freaking rules, who could keep them straight?

The two of them look nervous, as if an entire army of soon-to-be ex-wives just stormed the facility, and they take off for the bar without so much as a “see you later.”

Great. I knew this had crappy idea written all over it.

A familiar dark-haired god, otherwise known as Lord of the Ladies in these parts, gives a knowing smile from the foot of the stage and my insides cinch at the sight of him. Morgan’s dimples go off and heat rises to my cheeks. A part of me wants to run and hide and another part of me thinks I should play it off as if our sexual sparring never happened last night. But God, did it ever happen. Last night was a dream within a dream. I can still feel Morgan’s warm hands pouring over my body quick and furious as a waterfall.

I head on over, leading with my boobs, shaking my hair out, and the show is all for him. My hips swing side to side as I strut, teasing him, forcing him to replay those mattress moves that had the both of us groaning until the sun came up. Morgan lights a fire in me that no other man in this wayward establishment could ever hope to spark. Morgan Jordan has the power to make me feel sexy without even trying.

Morgan’s got on a T-shirt that reads
D
IVE
D
EEPER
, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s something pornographic that everyone except me understands. I come in close like I’m going to kiss him before shimmying down his waist and sprouting up again. A memory of last night sweeps through me, and my face, and other far more intimate places, floods with searing heat. My insides tingle, and I have the sudden urge to jump right out of my panties. I gift him a private smile because if we were alone, I might have done just that.

“Looking for company?” I almost said
looking for love,
and choked on that final word. Thankfully it incarnated into something else entirely before it flew from my lips. I was promised love once a long time ago but I learned my lesson: none of that is real. Love is nothing but made-for-TV bullshit that people wish for over mojitos and shooting stars.

“You’re all the company I need.” He brazenly pulls me in and steals a kiss off my lips, just a simple dot, nothing invasive, but my body explodes from the pleasure of his touch.

I take in a breath as his dimples dive in and out.

“Sorry,” he whispers, “but I wanted to say thank you.” There’s a boyishness about him. Something soft under that tough-guy exterior that makes me melt just looking at him.

“You’re welcome.” I press my lips together. “But I think it’s me who needs to be thanking
you
.” I lean in until we’re a breath away. Morgan’s storm-colored eyes grow all too serious as if he wants it, as if he’s silently begging for one more kiss.

“Here you are.” Tess pops in like an un-fairy godmother with all of the backward intentions only a Monroe can have.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hisses, shoving me back into circulation. “Do not fraternize with the help. Do you hear me? He’s the
bouncer
, Ally. He’s here to protect, not serve. You’re working—remember? Now go make some money. I swear if I have to cover your house fees another night, I’ll fire you myself.”

I land in a pit of girls rounding out their moves in front of a group of men in business attire. The men taking in the spontaneous burlesque look like they’re straight out of an insurance meeting, or car salesmen’s convention. They hold out their whiskeys on the rocks as if they were a requirement to view the show, the ticket to the VIP room in the back.

I met a few of the dancers while I was getting dressed. They’re just people like me, trying to get by. Some are trying to get high, but more than a few of them are mothers trying to make a living. It’s just a job—a prison where they do voluntary time from when they’re eighteen until they’re thirty. Those are the peak years according to Tess, who is already on the descent at the tender age of twenty-six. For sure I don’t want to see her here another four years. I want something more for her. I want something more for me.

I turn back and glance at Morgan. A beautiful brunette has cropped up by his side with boobs the size of cantaloupes. She offers him a drink that she’s wedged between her cleavage, and he wisely declines. I’ve seen her in the back—perfect skin, killer smile. I don’t know her name but she’s doing her best to seduce him with her long, tan arms gliding over his chest like cobras. Where’s Tess to enforce her anti-fraternizing rule when you need her?

My stomach squeezes with jealousy at the sight, and I dive deeper into the crowd. It’s time to let my moneymakers shine and hopefully earn a few wrinkled dollars in the process.

Morgan follows me home from the club, and I can’t help stealing glances in the rearview mirror. He gives a gentle wave as we stop at the long red light just shy of the bed-and-breakfast.

We drive down to the cabin and his truck slides in alongside my car. I get out just as he kills the engine, and he joins me as we make our way up the porch.

“We should drive together,” he whispers, slightly out of breath. “You know, go green and all that good stuff.”

“Oh, well, if it’s for the planet then I’m totally on board.” I bite down on a smile as we move closer to the door.

“So”—he swallows hard—“about last night.”

My face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Don’t worry about it. I was insane. I needed attention, and you were in the right place.” I hear the words as they stream from my lips, but I don’t believe them. I wonder if he does?

“Mr. Right Place, Right Time, huh?” His dark brows pitch low as if he were perplexed by the concept.

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “In no way was I trying to lead you on. I don’t know what came over me.” I know exactly what came over me—
Rutger
came over me like a dump truck full of bricks, but I’ll be the last person to admit it.