“Go,” he commanded, his tone harder, his eyes narrowed on her. “You can’t be in here.”
“Why not?” Ashlynn didn’t understand. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had kissed her back. His lips had moved against hers, hadn’t they?
“Because I don’t want your brother to kill me,” he stated somberly.
Ashlynn frowned. Why would Max kill Leyton? They were best friends.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Just go. I’ll be fine.”
With her heart feeling as though it were going to break in two, Ashlynn nodded, then backed out of the room, never taking her eyes off him until the door closed between them.
“He okay?” Max asked, surprising Ashlynn when he appeared suddenly holding a bag of ice.
“I … uh…” Ashlynn looked at the door once more. “I think he needs to see a doctor.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “I know. He’s on his way now.”
Ashlynn nodded.
“Don’t worry, Ash. He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
Touching her lips with her fingers, she nodded again and then turned and fled to her room. It was then that she knew for sure she had a crush on Leyton Matheson, and she was pretty sure he liked her, too, but it would be years before she even knew what she was supposed to do with that information.
Chapter Eleven
She was real, right?
Present day
Thursday, November 5 th
Rock was standing by the bar on the main floor, keeping his eye on the stairs to the VIP section, waiting for Ashlynn to come down. He knew the girl would eventually give in and go see Leyton; he just didn’t know when. She was a stubborn one, no doubt.
Hell, they were all stubborn. Every last Adorite had their own way of doing things, and the only thing they had in common was that they did it whenever they felt like it. And for whatever reason, Rock liked that about them. They were a different breed, made their own path in the world, and he considered himself damn lucky to be part of it.
Standing up straight, Rock peered over when someone tapped him on the arm. He glanced down into the face of a twenty-something chick with too much eyeliner and more than enough red lipstick on her face.
“Care to buy me a drink?”
He bit back the smile. Some of the chicks in this place made him want to laugh. Some tried too hard; others thought that the guys owed them something. He was still waiting for that one woman who would catch his eye but make him chase her. It hadn’t happened yet, and he’d been working at Devil’s Playground for six years.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m workin’.”
“I didn’t say you had to drink,” she snapped, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heel so fast Rock expected her to face-plant. Luckily, for her sake, she didn’t.
With his hands behind his back, he continued to scan the room, checking out the patrons, watching the stairs for Ashlynn and Jase to come down so he could take them to Leyton.
That was when he saw her.
What felt like a punch to the solar plexus threatened to steal the air from his lungs as he stared across the dance floor, eyes pinned on the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And he’d seen some damn fine women in this place. But her… No, he’d never seen someone like her before.
When her gaze slid over to him, Rock swallowed hard, holding her stare momentarily while his heart rate kicked into overdrive.
She was wearing a white, formfitting dress that emphasized every single one of her delicious curves and accentuated her caramel skin. The back… Fuck all. The back of that dress should’ve been illegal. The six crisscross spaghetti straps ran from the curve of her amazing ass up to her shoulders, baring an obscene amount of flesh and making his dick jump to attention.
Her pink, pouty lips glistened in the strobe lights overhead, and Rock suddenly wished that every damn one of these people would go home so he could take that dress off of her. With his teeth.
Unfortunately, her attention drifted back to her friends, and she smiled at them, laughing at something, making Rock feel a little left out in the cold. Although it irritated him that a lot of these women so easily threw themselves at him, most of them because they knew he worked there, he suddenly wished she was one of them. He couldn’t see himself turning her down for a night. No way.
Remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, Rock pulled himself from the lustful fog and glanced over at the stairs once more. Still no Ashlynn.
He did not want to have to go up to the penthouse and tell Leyton that she’d refused him, because that wouldn’t be cool. Despite how Leyton pretended not to be interested in her, Rock knew better. Hell, the guy practically undressed her with his eyes anytime she was in the same room. Watching those two eye-fuck one another gave him hours of endless amusement. Sometimes he just wanted to push the two of them together and watch them tear each other’s clothes off, because there was no doubt in his mind that would happen. Eventually.
“Cherry kiss martini, please.”
Rock glanced over to his left at the sound of the sexy, raspy voice, and it took everything in him not to spin around and plant his elbows on the bar, reducing himself to nothing more than a horny teenager on the prowl when he saw the woman in the white dress standing there, smiling at the bartender.
She was tall. Much taller than he’d expected. Probably six feet without those four-inch stilettos that made her legs look miles long. He could imagine them wrapped around his hips…
“Sure thing,” the bartender replied, winking at her and turning to grab a bottle from the shelf on the mirrored wall behind him before spinning back and casting a flirting glance at the woman again.
Rock felt a strangely possessive, completely foreign desire to punch the little fucker in the nose.
Instead, he swallowed hard and kept his attention on the rest of the room.
“Not gonna talk to me, huh?”
At first, Rock thought she was talking to the bartender, but then he realized the woman in the white dress had asked him that question. He cleared his throat, intended to say something, but nothing came out. Not one fucking syllable.
Her smile lit up her entire face, a flash of pretty white teeth. Her light gray eyes glittered, and he was tempted to drop to the floor and worship at her fucking feet.
Hell.
Before he could find his voice, another woman stumbled over, laughing as she stared at the woman in the white dress, giggling uncontrollably. “Did you ask him?”
His mystery woman met his gaze and shook her head subtly as though telling him she had nothing to do with what was about to happen.
“Is it true?” the short, dark-haired chick asked.
Rock lifted an eyebrow in question.
“You know…”
No, he didn’t know, but he also knew better than to encourage the woman. She’d clearly had too much to drink, and when she tried to get the bartender’s attention, Rock shook his head, letting the bartender know she was cut off.
“You ask him,” the dark-haired woman said, nudging the angel in white.
When her gaze lifted to meet his, Rock wanted to save her from her friend’s likely embarrassing question, but he didn’t know what to say to her. There were a million questions running through his head but not a one of them appropriate.
“Okay, fine,” the brunette slurred. “I’ll just come out and ask. Is it true what they say about bl—”
Rock smirked when the woman in white cupped her hand over her friend’s mouth, effectively stopping her question. He knew what she’d been about to ask. Hell, he’d gotten that question too many times to count. Due to his size, women often asked whether or not his anatomy was proportionate. A few times he’d let the skinny white chicks—the only ones who usually asked—find out for themselves. However, tonight, he had no intention of letting the drunk girl feel his dick to determine for herself. He’d much prefer to hold out for the real deal.