as a she-devil. I didn’t trust the glint in her chocolate eyes.
She nodded to my left, and I quickly glanced in that direction. Miss Blondie was staring at me with rapt attention. When she noticed me looking, her ruby lips spread into a full smile.
“Lila,” I started.
She cut me off. “I dare you to dance with her.”
My hold tightened on her. Lila was playing with fire. “Why?”
She lifted a shoulder, half-shrugging. “Because. We don’t get to ask the reason behind a dare, Coulter.”
What was going on in that pretty head of hers? Her expression didn’t give anything away, but I didn’t dare trust the nonchalant look on her face. Her body was tight as a bow string, and her hands were fisted at her sides.
Yeah, she didn’t want me to dance with Blondie.
But then why… give me the dare?
I stared at her for a second longer, waiting for a reaction, but she didn’t give any. Fine, a dare was a dare. Neither of us played to lose.
Lila’s fingers twitched against my chest, as if she wanted to grab me and not let go. But, instead, she stepped from between my thighs and stood beside my stool, ordering herself a drink. Goddamn stubborn, she was.
I lounged back into my stool, gliding my tongue over my lips. My head cocked to the side, I crooked my finger at Blondie, indicating for her to come over to me. Her smile widened, and she scurried over, quick to please. She spared Lila a quick dirty look, before taking her spot between my legs.
“Hello, Handsome,” she said in a thick accent I couldn’t place. Blondie wore a tight red dress that molded to every thick curve of hers. Her face glimmered under the light, and she smelled of lilac and maybe…chamomile, but her scent wasn’t more tempting than Lila.
Lila’s was… intoxicating. I’d get drunk on her scent.
Addictive.
Crazy.
Mine.
“Parlez-vous Français?” I asked Blondie. Do you speak French?
Lila tensed beside me. Hmm, interesting.
“Un peu,” she responded with a giggle. “How do you speak French? You’re American. I can tell by the accent.”
All thanks to mommy and daddy dearest. They made sure I was fluent in at least three languages from an early age. English, French and German. Brad, my father, said it was good for when I was older, when it’d be time for me to take over his empire. I have been trained, like a good fucking dog, since I was a kid.
“Comment est-ce que tu t’appelles, Blondie?” What’s your name?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Lila clenching her glass. Her knuckles turned white, and her lips were pursed in a hard line. She stared straight ahead of her, ignoring me and the woman in my arms.
“Serena. Et vous?”
“Maddox,” I introduced myself, bringing her hand up to my lips and kissing the back of it.
“Oh.” She blushed, biting her lip. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Maddox.” My name rolled off her tongue like she was tasting it, fucking it.
“Tout le plaisir est pour moi, chérie.” My pleasure, sweetheart.
Serena let out a small breathy laugh. “Charming, I see.”
I curled a finger around her blonde locks, tugging her toward me. Her tits pressed against my chest. She wasn’t wearing any bra, and I could feel her puckered nipples through our thin layers of clothing. “Do you… want to dance?”
Lila slammed her empty glass on the bar, and Serena flinched. My lips twitched, smirking. Oh yeah, my girl was incensed.
“Another drink. Strong,” she practically snarled at the bartender.
Grinning, I let my hand wander to Serena’s hips. My fingers tightened around her curves, thick and lush in the palms of my hands, and she gasped, her lips parting. A tempting sight, but it did nothing to my dick.
Sure, she was attractive.
A few months ago, I would have been all up in her pussy, probably banging her against the bathroom stalls. But not tonight.
I wasn’t the least bit interested in Blondie, but if Lila wanted to play…
She needed to learn the rules, and then she had to play it better than me. She could turn this into a little game of hers, and I’d show her how it’s really played.
When our eyes met, something sparked in hers, before she blinked it away. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a little psychotic. Ah, life was never boring, when you had Lila Garcia in your life.
“This is a good song,” Serena breathed in my ear. “Shall we?”
She grasped my hand in hers and dragged us to the