His Off Limits Best Friend - Vivian Wood Page 0,26

parking lot, a few steps ahead of him. From behind, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her hourglass body. Screw it, I’ve been trying for the past two hours not to indulge.

She positively glowed in the fading light of day. From her shapely calves to the swell of her hips and that unbelievably small, tucked-in waist, she was sheer perfection. That short skirt showed off nearly every inch of those long legs, and damn, it killed him. Her curtain of nearly black hair cascaded down her back, a contrast to the white ensemble.

Maybe it’s not so stupid to bring her. I mean, after all, it would really amp me up to have her in my corner, right?

Connor debated the pros and cons as they reached his car. The last time he was at this club, he really got waled on. He’d thought he could hold his own—he was a goddamned Navy SEAL—but when those boys fought like dogs, like their lives truly depended on it, it was another story.

He couldn’t blame the guys, either. That money must seem like a lot to some of them. What’s the worst that could happen? She sees me get pounded?

Actually, now that he thought of it, it didn’t really matter if the guys at the club tore him apart or not. Whether he won or lost, it would surely turn her on. Right? Women love that shit.

“Hey Sam, do you want to go somewhere with me?”

She frowned. “Really, Connor? This was the last thing on my schedule today—”

“No, not for business. I mean for pleasure.”

She paused with her hand on the door. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“Get in,” he said, and gestured to his car. He started the engine. “If you really want to see another side of me, come to this club with me.”

“Club? Connor, I’m really not in the mood for dancing and sloppy cocktails.”

“It’s not that kind of club.”

“Not that kind of club? I am not going to a sex club with you, if that’s what you have in mi—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “You’ll see when you get there. But you’ve got to trust me. Trust me?” He looked at her and could see the curiosity in her eyes.

“Well… okay,” she said. “Am I dressed okay for it?” she asked, and looked down at her suit.

“Trust me, nobody’s going to be looking at how you’re dressed.” He grinned, gunned the engine, and headed toward Washington Highlands.

12

Sam

She was nervous when they parked in what looked like an abandoned, decrepit parking lot with barbed wire fencing. But no way in hell was she going to let it show. Sam already felt way overdressed, and slipped out of the white jacket, pulled the silky cami out of her skirt and made do with a makeshift minidress ensemble.

“I told you, nobody’s going to be looking at your outfit,” Connor told her as he opened her door. She shrugged it off, but took his hand.

The party was in an undisclosed warehouse, the only hint of nightlife the occasional blare of music that sounded when the doorman let groups in or out.

“What you want?” the doorman asked, an imposing man the color of midnight. He barely glanced at Sam.

Connor leaned into the man and whispered something to him, which opened the gates to the roar inside. “Was that a Fight Club quote?” she asked him. Sam had to hurry in her heels to keep up.

“Maybe it was,” Connor said. As they walked through a thick mess of curtains at the end of the hall, the click of her heels still echoed in the steel chamber, but below them and all around them were throngs of people. Kanye’s “Black Skinhead” blasted through the speakers.

Sam was nervous as hell.

“Come on,” Connor shouted into her ear. “Let’s get you a drink.” It was barely dark outside, and yet the people were slick with sweat. Molly-infused mayhem surrounded her.

As she waited by the bar behind Connor, she ran over the conservations she’d had with Chase and Jay. Connor had been wrong when he’d said his friends hadn’t cared for his ex much. They absolutely loathed her. Of course, the guys had been drunk, but didn’t that make them more honest—albeit a bit abrupt?

“Nobody was surprised she cheated,” Chase had told her, his voice slurred. “We were just surprised it took him so long to catch her red-handed. Excuse me, black-handed.”

“Chase, that’s racist,” Jay had said.

“How’s it racist? It’s true!”

Sam had simply smiled and shook her