Temptation (Club Destiny) (35 page)

“Every possible position.” Logan chimed in, clinking his glass against Luke’s.

“Another.” Logan slammed his glass down. “So now that we know the truth… my life is clearly lacking threesomes, and yours is lacking sex in general, why don’t we solve both our problems and go back to my house.”

And there it was. Luke knew his brother was disappointed in the fact that Luke hadn’t been an active participant in their midnight rendezvous, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not that he didn’t want to feel Sam’s mouth wrapped around his cock, or the silky, warmth of her pussy as he fucked her from every possible angle. Those would always be fond memories, but Luke had apparently evolved.

Or maybe he’d just lost his fucking mind.

“Don’t be stingy with the liquor.” Logan said as he pulled the bottle out of Luke’s grasp and filled both glasses once again. “And don’t worry; I’m only giving you shit about the threesomes.” Logan clarified before tossing back the next shot, a toast apparently not needed.

Not wanting to be left behind, Luke took the shot and felt the heat wash through him, his vision becoming just a little fuzzy while his ears were starting to ring.

“I’ve actually thought about talking to Tag.” Logan admitted, glancing up at Luke as though he expected a reaction.

“Tag Murphy?” As if Luke needed to clarify. How many Tag’s did they actually know?

“One and the same.” Logan slurred, reaching for the bottle again.

So apparently Logan had come over to comfort Luke, for whatever reason, and was seeking his own comfort in the bottle of whiskey that was now… three quarters of the way empty. At this rate, he’d have to pull out another bottle.

“So, why Tag?” Luke inquired, getting that backup bottle. Just in case.

“I’ve seen the way Sam looks at him. I mean, how could she not. The man’s built like a brick shithouse.”

That was the damn truth. Tag Murphy was one of the newest members of Club Destiny, and one mean looking son of a bitch. Apparently the women thought he was hot, or so he’d heard. Cole had actually introduced Luke and Logan to Tag and not long after, the man had asked about joining the club. Luke was a little surprised that Logan would even consider the man. “I figured you’d talk to Dylan.”

Logan didn’t seem surprised by the idea, but he turned his attention back on the bottle. “I thought about it. I just don’t know if he’s in the right place in his head right now.”

Another round was poured and Luke tossed his back as fast as his brother, his legs suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. “No, you’re probably right.” Pulling out the barstool beside Logan, Luke slid into it, wanting to remain vertical as long as possible.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Sierra?” Logan asked after a few minutes of silence. Although he managed to butcher Sierra’s name, thanks to the whiskey.

“Hell if I know.”

Logan’s face contorted, and he suddenly looked… sad. Shit, just what Luke needed, a sappy drunk that wanted to talk.

“From the moment I met that woman, I thought she would be your perfect match. Physically she isn’t what you normally go for, I get that.”

Logan was accurate in that respect. Luke didn’t go for tiny, petite women. At six feet five, two hundred and forty pounds, women like Sierra scared him. He was damn near twice her size, and he feared he would hurt her. But she had proven just how fragile she wasn’t, and the thought made his dick stir.

“But the woman’s a firecracker.” Logan continued, apparently not needing Luke to contribute to the conversation. When he picked up the bottle and began to slosh the liquid into the glasses, Luke knew they were damn near at their limit. How many had they had anyway?

“That she is.” Luke agreed, taking the bottle from his brother and filling the shot glasses once more. This had to be the last one or they would both be flat on their faces in the next few minutes.

“And she’s hot as hell. Granted, she’s not Sam, but the woman is a beauty.”

Logan’s words began to get closer and closer together and Luke had a hard time understanding him. Or maybe that was Luke’s brain running the words together.

“I love her.”
Holy fuck!
Where the
hell
had that come from?

Logan turned to Luke like his hair had just gone up in flames, and Luke knew he’d actually said the words out loud.

“I knew it!” Logan slammed the glass on the bar. “I fucking knew it.”

As though Logan had just figured out the cure for cancer, his eyes lit up, and a smile split his face. Luke couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, damnit, he loved her.

“Let’s drink to that.” Logan slurred,
drink
coming out more like
shrink
.

They tossed down another shot and this time Luke damn near fell off of the barstool. His eyes crossed, and his vision went gray on the edges. Time to call it a night.

No sense in staying up any longer… Logan had apparently been successful in getting Luke to talk.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Good God.

Someone must have hit Luke square in the face with an anvil. That was the first thought that sprung to Luke’s mind the next morning when he awoke to the sun bathing the edges of the bed through the blind’s wooden slats.

“Sonuvabitch.” Apparently that was fast becoming one of his favorite words these days.

Throwing his arm over his eyes, he attempted to shut out the blinding light and to hold his brains inside of his head. Whiskey was not his friend in the morning that was for damn sure.

Despite the throb behind his eyes, Luke’s mind immediately drifted to the night before. And it didn’t have anything to do with the fifth of whiskey he and his brother had downed. He couldn’t get his mind off of Sierra. Or Cole. And the way he’d successfully managed to push the two of them away. Likely for good this time.

Fucking idiot.

What the hell was Luke supposed to do now?

When the answers didn’t just spring forth, not that he really expected them to, Luke pushed himself to the edge of the bed. He knew of one thing. He had to get his ass out of bed and attempt to salvage the two things that actually meant something to him.

He just didn’t know exactly how he was supposed to do that.

~~  **  ~~  **  ~~  **  ~~

 “Yes, ma’am.” Sierra rolled her eyes as she managed to remember her manners. The woman deserved to be called a few choice other things, but at the moment, Sierra knew her reputation was on the line. Not that she should care. She was going back to Nashville, right? At least that was the plan she had drafted in her mind the night before. It had sounded so finite when she had shared the news with Sam.

“No, ma’am.” Once again Sierra let the woman drone on and on while she tossed in the expected answer where necessary. “Yes, of course I can be there this afternoon. I’ll see you then.”

Gritting her teeth as she pressed the end button on her cell phone, Sierra resigned herself to the fact that her shitty day had just gotten shittier. At least she had a few hours to build up the nerve required to spend another afternoon sitting in a room with Susan Toulmin while the woman proceeded to tell her in no uncertain terms what a terrible designer she was. The thought that this was the last time she had to see the woman was the only thing that would get her through the afternoon.

She needed caffeine in a bad way. And maybe some aspirin. A
bottle
of aspirin. After the night she had, most of it spent pathetically sobbing her eyes out as she curled into a ball on her bed, Sierra wasn’t surprised by the furious pounding behind her eyes. Pushing her weary body up from the couch, she ventured into the kitchen. Coffee would go a long way toward ridding her brain of the fuzz left over from the night before. Maybe.

After she had rushed out of Club Destiny, almost plowing right over Cole, Sierra had managed to make it to her car just in time to realize she was in no shape to drive. Thankfully Sam must have known because the woman came to her rescue and offered to drive her home.

Well, not home exactly.

Her original intention was to take Sierra to Luke’s, but she managed to tell her friend that under no circumstance would she be caught dead at Luke’s house. She was done with the man.

Finished. Through. Kaput.

Damn him.

Through a haze of tears, Sierra made her way to the coffee pot. She’d be damned if she would shed one more tear for that rat bastard. Let him have Susan Toulmin…
the bitch
. They deserved each other.

At least that’s what she tried to tell herself as she filled the carafe with water and tossed coffee grounds into the flimsy paper filter. Her brain was fully onboard with her plan to banish Luke McCoy from all conscious thought. Her heart not so much.

Standing barefoot in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, Sierra choked down two aspirin and then took the time to look around. Her little rental hadn’t become much of a home in the last few months. Which meant she had very little to pack up and take with her. Mostly her clothes and a couple of pieces of furniture.

The thought of going back to Nashville was bittersweet. She hadn’t yet gotten comfortable with Dallas.
Big fat liar
. Truth be told, when Sierra had been with Luke and Cole, she’d felt more at home than any one place she had ever lived. Her heart sank right into her stomach at the thought. None of it mattered. He’d made his choice, and clearly it hadn’t been her.

To top it all off, Sierra received a call from Cole just before dawn. She’d answered the phone, still groggy from sleep, secretly hoping it was Luke on the other end of the line, calling to grovel at her feet and profess his undying love.

So not the case.

However, the sound of Cole’s deep, familiar voice had her nerves settling and a spark of hope igniting in her chest. Whatever for, she had no idea. After she assured him that yes, she was alright, and yes, she did get home in one piece, they said their goodbyes. Little did Cole know that Sierra’s goodbye had been more final than he might have thought. She was going back to Nashville and Dallas would be just a little blip on the roadmap of her life.

The coffee gurgled to completion and Sierra grabbed one of the boring, white coffee cups she had picked up at the dollar store when she had moved in. No need to go out and find something that would cheer her up. At least not yet. She’d have plenty of time to do that when she got back home to Tennessee where she belonged. She would likely have to buy another house since hers was currently rented. That would ensure she couldn’t have a momentary relapse and wind up back in the Big D.

A pounding on the front door had her sloshing coffee in her cup, the hot, black liquid spilling over and onto her shirt. “Damn it.”

Setting the cup on the counter and grabbing a hand towel, Sierra attempted to wipe off the now cooling liquid as she headed for the door.

The door.
Oh, shit
.

Who the hell would be at her door that early in the morning? Whoever it was, she shouldn’t answer it. The knock thundered again, eliminating the hope that it might have been Sam coming to check on her. Definitely not a dainty, feminine knock. Her traitorous legs moved closer to the door and Sierra found herself glancing through the peephole, praying that it wouldn’t be…

Whew!
It wasn’t.

Gripping the handle, Sierra pulled back the door, still trying to dry her now damp t-shirt.

“Hey.” Cole’s beautiful face peered down at her, those indigo blue eyes caressing every inch of her skin as he took her in.

“What’s up?” She asked, doing her best to sound nonchalant but feeling a little unsteady from the intensity of his gaze.

“Can I come in?” He was halfway through the door as he asked the question, apparently sure of her answer. Good thing because she hadn’t been… sure that is.

“Ok.” Stepping back so he could come inside, Sierra felt incredibly small once again. She’d gotten used to being around Luke, but Cole still had the ability to make her feel utterly feminine and incredibly fragile.

Realizing she was still trying to dry her shirt, she tossed the hand towel onto the back of the chair and turned away from Cole. “I need to, um, change. I’ll be right back.” See, that wasn’t so hard. She could talk to this man. There was no reason to get all flustered when he was around.

Sierra double timed it to her bedroom, ripped the stained t-shirt up and over her head, tossing it in the direction of the clothes hamper in the corner and missing it entirely. What was wrong with her? When she reached for the dresser drawer, she noticed her hands were shaking. And not some little vibration either. No, this was a full blown earthquake in her limbs.

She wasn’t aware how long she stood there, staring down at her hands, but the next thing she knew, Cole was coming up behind her, turning her in his arms and pressing her against his chest. She pressed her damp –
shit, she was crying
– cheek against his broad torso, her hands snaking around his waist. His masculine scent filled her nostrils and soothed her frazzled nerves.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright.” Cole muttered, running his hand through her hair as he cupped her head, holding her against him.

How did he know it would be alright? How did he even know what the problem was? She sure as hell didn’t.