Torrid Love: Friends to Lovers Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 1) Page 8
Tonight, he’ll be kissing another woman.
CHAPTER 11
Roderick
Aaron and I end up at the Quintus Hotel––one of my favorite hangouts. From there, we weave our way through a more private hallway few are privy to. It leads us to a plush and luxuriant garden. It’s a ruse to hide the obvious in plain sight—the black door that leads to more. Behind the prim, proper and very respectable façade of the hotel, resides a seedy and lewd underworld—the member’s only private adult club. The gentleman’s club, restaurants and bars are all located inside the hotel. No one would ever bat an eyelash. The black door and covered passageway leads to Dark Compulsion. That’s where the rich and famous come to play. The owner spared no expense to ensure the outside matches the majestic design you find inside. It goes without saying security is tight.
Aaron is my guest for tonight. He was in the mood for something edgier. I wasn’t. We settled on the first floor of the building. The action is pretty vanilla down here compared to the other floors, but there are still plenty of great options for an illicit hookup with no strings attached.
As I scour the room, I can’t stop thinking of Dom and how stunning she looked. Maybe Aaron is right. Maybe it’s in the water. I chuckle internally. I wish it were that simple. Dom was always pretty, but now her striking beauty is almost blinding. I really don’t know what to do with myself when I’m around her.
No sooner has her angelic face popped into my mind than my hand curls up in a fist. As lovely as she is, Claire can be a bit of a wildcard. I can’t help but wonder what kind of trouble she’ll push my best friend into tonight… especially since she enlisted her reckless best friend Kelley as her wingman. Three beautiful single women out on the town in LA. What could possibly go wrong?
Fuck.
I shake my head, hoping to dissipate the millions of possible scenarios. It’s in vain.
What the hell is this stupid fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach?
Dom’s return is turning my world upside down.
I take in a deep breath hoping to settle my stomach.
It’s to no avail.
The unfamiliar stir is still as present as the erratic beat of my heart.
Shit.
I have to find a way to shut down my undeniable—scratch that—unreasonable desire for Dom. I’m too screwed up, and she deserves better. She needs someone who’s been loved and who knows how to love. And that isn’t me.
Jesus Christ.
I need to get a fucking grip.
I need to get laid.
“Rod?” Aaron shakes me out of my mental rumination.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
He knits his eyebrows. “We’re in a room surrounded by some of the most gorgeous women in LA and your mind is in Iceland. What gives?”
“No. I’m still here,” I lie. “I was just checking out… the options.”
“Sure and I’m the Pope.”
“Don’t break my balls.”
“Glad to hear you still have a pair.” I shake my head. “I want to make sure you’re with me, Rod.”
“I’m with you.”
“Good because I’m leaving first thing Monday morning for Tokyo,” he reminds me. “I have tonight and all of tomorrow to get some action and there’s no way I’m not dipping my dick in an inviting pussy.”
Everything about this place guarantees a home run.
Rhythmic music thumps in the background, low enough not to drown our voices. Soft lights bathe the room in a luminous sheen, casting a seductive glow against bare feminine skin. A long slab of white-veined marble stretches wall-to-wall in the back. Four bartenders mix, pour and serve your poison of choice. Several high round tables surrounded by small groupings and conversation nooks are dispersed around the room to elicit foreplay. This is where connections are made.
“Stop worrying. Remember, you’re okay with my leftovers,” I joke.
“Fucker.”
We both laugh.
“Do you want another drink?” he asks raising his empty tumbler.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
“I’m going for another tequila on the rocks. I’ll be back.”
“All right.”
Aaron strides across the richly appointed lounge, evaluating every woman on his way to the bar. Since he keeps walking, I can only assume he’s still looking.
The place is starting to fill up. Women are clad in appropriate club wear—tight dresses that barely cover anything. My eyes bounce around the room, hoping they’ll land on a tempting distraction––a cute little thing sure to stir my interest and my cock. The beauties abound, but from my less than excited cock, you’d never know.
Great. My best friend is cock-blocking me.
A few long minutes go by and there’s still no sign of Aaron.
I pull my phone out and text Dom.
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How’s it going? Breaking hearts?
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I stand there like an idiot with my phone in my hand staring at it, willing her to respond.
No answer.
Fuck.
With a huff of frustration, I tuck my phone back into the inner pocket of my suit jacket.
Small fingers tap my back.
I turn around to find curvy redheaded twins staring up at me.
“Hi,” they say in unison before flashing me an inviting smile.
“Hi,” I smile back.
“I’m Julka.”
“And I’m Violina.”
“Ladies,” I nod. “I’m Rebel.”
Dark Compulsion is a place where real identities are undisclosed. Privacy is key here. Translation, everyone’s lips are sealed. Random names are assigned to each member when they join. It's uncanny how mine fits.
“Gorgeous and dangerous Rebel,” Violina says, and licks her bottom lip.
I simply smile.
The twins are wearing identical light gray dresses. How original. Their tops are so low, their fake tits are a breath away from popping out. Their silicone jugs look like pumped projectiles. Their nipples are so erect, it’s obscene. At least the duck lips are somewhat under control.
“Your friend is also pretty cute,” Violina says.
“He’s a handsome guy for sure,” I say, playing along. “And a war hero.”
“Ohhhh,” the twins coo.
“I know. Don’t tell him I told you, but he can be a little reckless and wild.”
“Ohhhh,” the twins repeat.
“Thank God we came over,” Julka says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You two look lonely,” Julka says.
“In all fairness, we just got here. We haven’t had time to make… friends.”
“Maybe we can be your friends,” Violina purrs.
“Yeah. Fast friends,” Julka agrees.
They giggle.
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
“My sister and I are members,” Julka says, flashing me her ring.
“We have a room upstairs. Maybe you and your friend would like to join us?” Violina jumps in.
Instead of answering, I search the room.
Aaron has a huge grin on his face. He’s leaning against the bar, working a brunette. She’s really pretty and from her flirty demeanor, I’d say she’s totally into him. The large ring on her index finger—identical to mine and the twins’—indicates she’s a club member. He’s in good hands.
“I think my friend found his match for the evening.” My chin jerks in his direction.
“Boo hoo,” they say in unison.
“Well, I guess it’s just the three of us. It’ll still be fun!” Violina says.
“Yeah, we like to play dirty games with each other and with guys,” Julka adds cupping her sister’s tits.
Violina closes her eyes and moans.
Un-fucking-believable.
Julka and Violina look like pleasure dolls.
I’ve had my fair share of threesomes a
nd foursomes in this club, but these two tip the scale of plastic perfection. So unappealing. And sister play? I’ll pass.
I open my mouth to respond, but my phone vibrates.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” I say, pulling it out.
It’s Dom.
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Breaking hearts? Hardly. I bailed out on Claire and Kelley. We ended up at Ransack and I couldn’t handle it. Not my scene. I’m home. I just got out of the shower.
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I will myself not to visualize beads of water running freely down her sexy naked body, but I fail miserably.
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What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?
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My couch and UTV.com Prime. Lame, right?
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Not at all.
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You must be breaking hearts? Were the paramedics called in yet?
I smile.
Not even close.
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You’re lying, Wolfe. They must be fighting all over you.
I cut to the chase.
Can I come over?
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Why?
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We need to talk.
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Seconds tick away before she responds.
Okay.
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And if I don’t grin like a fool.
I’m leaving now.
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Okay. See you soon.
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“I’m sorry, ladies, but I have somewhere else to be,” I tell the twins once I’ve tucked my phone into my pocket.
“Oh no,” Julka pouts.
“So soon?” Violina pulls down her lips and frowns.
They’re disappointed.
Too bad.
With that, I leave the twins behind, shoot off a quick text to Aaron and head to the door.
CHAPTER 12
Dominika
Everything was too much at Ransack—the loud music, the crowded space and the eager men. I can handle the first two, but I struggle with the last one. With good reason.
I should feel guilty for pulling the, ‘Jetlag is such a bitch’ card, but I don’t. After bidding Claire and Kelley goodbye, I’d hopped in the back of a cab.
Surprise, surprise, I could only think of one person the entire ride back to my place. In an attempt to distract my thoughts from who Rod was doing, I jumped in the shower and turned the knob to the coldest setting, praying the iciness of the water would help me regain my composure. Everything was going great until I noticed his text message.
I may never have wanted to set foot at Dark Compulsion, but I’m aware of what goes on there. I was certain Rod would be balls deep inside a willing pussy by now. My mind was on overdrive—conjuring all sorts of filthy scenarios. Turns out I was wrong. I’m unwilling to admit I was relieved.
My phone chimes, pulling me away from my thoughts.
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You’re still home?
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Of course.
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Just checking. The cab is close.
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All right.
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I can’t wait to see you.
I type and delete my message three times before I have the courage to send it.
Same here.
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My anticipation climbs with every passing second—along with a feeling of longing I’ve come to make peace with over the last few months.
“Damn battle shots game,” I chastise myself.
My body ignores my scolding. It hums with excitement, yet my heart beats with trepidation. It’s as if my senses are at polar opposites of the spectrum. Just like everything else surrounding my best friend lately.
As I pace my home, Rod’s words ring in my ears.
‘That was a bad idea.’
Is there anything more for us to talk about?
The humiliation from the rejection hasn’t subsided. Still, I’m curious and apprehensive of what he has to say.
The doorbell rings, forcing me to stop ruminating.
Oh, God.
Rod has a spare set of keys to my house and studio—he’s my emergency person—but I know he won’t use them unless he has to. I hurry to the door, get on my tippy toes and glance through the peephole to buy myself some time. I suck in a hasty breath when I see him standing on the other side.
Like I wasn’t expecting him.
I unlock the door and open it.
He flashes me a languorous smile and when he winks at me, every cell in my body comes alive.
Calm down, Dominika.
“Hey,” I wave him in.
Just like earlier, my nipples approve of his perfectly tailored suit, but my brain still can’t comprehend how the hell he has this kind of power over my body.
“Hey,” he says, stepping into my home.
I’m still holding onto the door like a protective shield.
Rod turns around and lifts his right hand. Two bags obstruct my view of his gorgeous face. When I read the name of one of my favorite dessert spots in LA, my eyes light up.
“You stopped by Small Batches?”
He peeks between the bags. “I figured I needed a little ammo to seduce you into listening to me.”
Honey, you don’t need any ammo whatsoever.
“What did you get?”
“Everything we need to make ice cream sandwiches. Your favorites, of course.”
“I’m listening,” I say playfully.
“Two flavors of cookies––chocolate peanut butter and birthday. And two pints of ice cream—cookie monster and popcorn. I even bought wine, and an assortment of cheese and crackers. It would be a crime to watch UTV.com Prime without the perfect set of snacks,” he says, looking down at the canvas bag he’s holding in his other hand.
“You’re a good man,” I smile.
He frowns.
“What?” I ask.
“Are you going to hangout behind the door the whole evening?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Funny.”
“You seem attached to it,” he mocks.
“Let’s put the ice cream in the freezer before it melts,” I suggest.
He laughs and heads toward the kitchen.
The view from behind is sinful.
Some men walk. Others stride. Rod takes ownership of the space.
I close the door, lock it and follow him.
Rod’s expensive shoes scuff the wooden floor, and my pulse thumps with every scrape.
When we get to the kitchen, I don’t even have to say a word. He knows where everything is. I lean against the kitchen island and watch him in action. He drops the bag of cookies and crackers on the granite counter, stores the ice cream and cheese, and places the bottles of wine near the fridge.
“Done,” he says turning to face me. “We can start with––”
Rod glances down at my chest.
When his lips break into a huge smile, I lower my head. “What?” I ask.
“Does it mean you still like me?” he asks in reference to my new London-purchased ‘I Like Cute Boys In Bands’, tank top.
“You’re no longer in a band. And you’re no longer a boy.” You’re a man… a smoking hot man.
“Point taken. At least you didn’t say I’m no longer cute.”
“You’re incorrigible, Wolfe.”
“But do you still like me?” he insists.
“Don’t be silly, Rod. I’ll always like you. You’re my best friend. Stop asking silly questions.”
“Fair enough.”
His eyes are still glued to my chest. It takes me a second to understand why. I didn’t think twice of my wardrobe selection when he said he’d drop by. The loose-fitting gray tank top with open sides and cut off jeans shorts were the perfect choice when I was alone, but a pretty bad one when I have company, especially considering I’m bra-less. Rod’s dark brown eyes are veiled with a predatory glint I’ve never seen before. The fact my treacher
ous nipples poke hard against the thin fabric of my top makes this moment even more awkward than it already is.
He tilts his head to the side, a dangerous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he meets my gaze again.
“I—I should go change,” I babble nervously, pushing myself off the island.
Rod stalks forward. Instinctively, I backup and gasp when my ass hits the counter behind me. Those coffee-colored eyes heat up, and the expression on his face is unreadable. Two more steps and his expensive shoes halt only a few inches from my bare feet. My breathing speeds up as my mind desperately tries to comprehend what’s unfolding. He leans into me until his nose is practically touching mine. “Don’t.”
He extends his hand and drags his finger down the length of my tattooed sleeve. My breath hitches. I shiver and close my eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore, Dom.” His voice is as soothing as a warm blanket.
I nod.
“The past is behind you.”
I nod again.
“Look at me,” he implores. I open my eyes and meet his caring gaze. “You’ve turned the pain into your power,” he says tracing one of my tattoos.
“I know. I’m always a little uncomfortable when people touch me.”
Bad memories stay with you for a lifetime. Ditto for scars.
“It’s me that’s touching you. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure about that?”
He steps closer, crowding me as he presses his palms against the counter on either side of my hips.
“Rod.”
Any other man and I’d run terrified. I no longer allow anyone to cage me. But it’s different with him. No part of me feels the urge to flee. Instead, my nipples tighten into sensitive peaks.
What’s going on with me?
He leans into me, leaving only a couple of inches between us. God, the man smells so good. “Rod, what?” he asks.
I’m stumped.
He pulls back and with his eyes locked onto mine, he reaches out and brushes his knuckles against my protruding nipples.
I swallow a moan.
Jesus Christ.
“I like this top on you, Dom,” he says, so low it comes out as soft as a whisper.