Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,199

of me. He’s a catch, and I’ve been pushing him away because I can’t stop thinking about a pipe dream.

But I won’t allow myself to continue to be stupid.

“So much for taking things slow,” I mutter.

He chuckles then grabs my hand. “Come with me,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

He leads me through the mass of sweaty bodies and into another room of the club. A security guard waves us in almost as if he knows Brian. This room is much less crowded than the dance floor, and it’s quiet—exclusive. It feels more private even though we’re definitely not alone.

The room reminds me of a library. I follow Brian toward a wall of bookcases filled with books. We pass a long, walnut bar, wooden pool tables with burgundy felt, and some soft, sexy leather club chairs surrounding smaller coffee tables. It’s warm and cozy in here, like I could curl up in one of the cushy leather chairs for hours with a book. You’d never guess it was part of a nightclub—in fact, I can’t even hear the music next door unless someone opens the door.

Brian leads me over to the wall with the books. “What’s your favorite book?” he asks.

I shrug. “How do you pick just one?”

He chuckles. “I like anything by Steinbeck. My favorite is probably East of Eden.”

“Why?”

“I learned a lot from it. Steinbeck’s work has so many layers.”

“I find that book a little dark.”

“Why?”

“He said love makes people suspicious.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” He lifts a shoulder. “He also said something about evil, ugly things growing inside us all.”

“And here I was about to tell you my favorite book is an erotic romance.”

He chuckles. “You like the ones with the dominants and submissives?”

I shrug nonchalantly and pretend I don’t feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. “Sure. I’ll read anything.”

“You feel the same way about sex?” he asks, his voice low and gritty.

Thank God I’m drunk for this conversation, because I don’t think I could sober talk about sex so easily with someone I hardly know. “Are you asking if I want to be dominated?” I’m not exactly sure how to answer. I’m far from submissive, but I also don’t mind when a man wants to take charge. “Not as a lifestyle.”

“But on occasion is okay?” he asks. His voice is husky and warm.

I laugh nervously. “Why, are you a dominant or something?”

He laughs back, but there’s no trace of nerves there. “No, I’m not, but I do enjoy calling the shots.”

I raise an eyebrow, grateful for the low lights in this room to cover my burning cheeks. “I like it that way on occasion, too.”

“Sounds like we’re a match.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“We will?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He laughs. “I like you, Reese.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned that.”

“If I say it enough times, maybe you’ll start to like me back.”

“Yeah. Or maybe I’ve already started.”

He shoots me a smile that’s hot enough to melt my panties right off, and it’s confirmed. I’m smitten.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. We don’t make out like we did on the dance floor just a few minutes ago, but something is definitely different between us. It’s the start of something new—butterflies, excitement, nerves, tingles. It’s the feeling you hope lasts forever even though you know it’ll fade with time.

I follow Brian over to the bar as hope blooms in my chest. He gets us each a fresh drink. We find an open club chair, but just one. It’s by itself off to the side of the room, sort of in a quiet back corner. He sits and pats his lap, and I carefully position myself on his knee. I’m in a short, tight dress, after all, and we barely know each other. He chuckles before he pulls me closer, and I’m careful to keep my legs pressed together so I don’t flash everyone in the library room.

I remind myself that this is Reese’s Big Summer of Sin. I throw caution to the wind as I purposely grind my ass across the erection that’s digging into it, and I take a sip of my drink, trying my hardest to act like this is all good and normal, like we’ve known each other for ages.

I lean into him, and I feel the hard planes of muscle hidden beneath his shirt as they bow and flex beneath my arm. He leans over me and nuzzles my neck, and then his fingertips start a slow ascent up my thigh