pressed to my lower back. The placement is at that spot that I've always called "the lady killer" right above the start of your ass. The move would usually give me shivers, but knowing it’s Logan doing it now, the effect is almost too much. My brain has started to malfunction over the course of the day from being in such close proximity to the three of them.
I guess that could be the brain cancer as well, but I'd prefer to think it’s the hotness factor of the three of them combined.
Carter makes it to the rope, ignoring the cries of outrage from the crowd that has most likely been waiting for hours. My jaw drops when he releases my hand to give a fist bump to the two largest bouncers. They look like they could probably both bench my car back home if they wanted, and Carter appears to be best friends with them.
"Celeste is going to go crazy when she sees you, bro," one of them comments in a decidedly American accent. He casts a look over the four of us, his gaze leveling on me. "You're just asking for trouble, aren't you?" he says with a laugh while shaking his head.
I have lots of questions, number one being who the fuck Celeste is, but a close second is what kind of trouble this guy thinks Carter is going to get into by bringing me to this club.
Again…who the fuck is Celeste?
The bouncer unlatches the purple rope, and Carter once again grabs my hand, dragging me behind him into the darkness ahead of us. We go down a hallway that's been painted black. It has neon graffiti of a million French words that I don't recognize splattered all over it, and a purple spotlight clicks on every couple of seconds, highlighting a different section of the hallway.
I haven't been to a lot of clubs. Hence why the idea of going to a world-famous French one sounded so appealing earlier when I'd thought of it. I'd been able to go a few times in medical school with some classmates, but I'd never felt comfortable totally letting go in front of them. It was too cutthroat at the school for me to really relax or do anything stupid that they could potentially use against me later.
Looking at the three men around me, I'm pretty sure that won't be a problem with them.
The music is loud, even walking in the hallway, and I'm already bouncing to the beat of the deep techno beats. We turn a corner, and there's a vault looking door manned by two more bouncers dress in head to toe black.
They give Carter that "what up" chin nod that all guys seem to be pros at, and then they open the heavy door.
The music is so loud, I have to take a step back. Quaid catches my elbow and gives me a questioning look. I respond with a grin that I'm sure resembles that of a loon, but what can I say…I'm excited.
We walk into the room to see a mass of writhing people spread out over three stories. Women and men dressed in black leather dominatrix gear hang in cages throughout the room, dancing seductively to the pulsing beats. I stare at everything in awe.
Quaid and Carter both look right at home as Carter continues to lead us off to the side of the massive main floor. There are sleek black booths in the shape of a half-circle set up on the sides of the room, but they're all full. A waitress dressed in black leather booty shorts and a red lace bralette top comes up to us and squeals as she hugs Carter.
Jealousy hasn't been a feeling that I've been acquainted with over the last ten years, but right now, I'm thinking it's a good thing I don't have a knife because the bitch would probably be at risk for being shanked if I did.
"Down girl," Quaid whispers in my ear. I send him a haughty, unamused look, which only elicits one of his deep, toe-curling laughs. It does the trick though, because when I look back over, Carter has extricated himself from the waitress's grip and she's now leading us to a miraculously empty booth that I'm pretty sure was completely filled just a second ago.
She gives Carter a kiss on the cheek once we're sitting at the booth and then sashays away, looking ridiculously perfect in her cherry red Louboutins.
"So I take it you