Page 74 of Reckless

My pulse beats straight down into my core. An ache grows stronger between my legs as he stares at me. Jude smirks again. He knows exactly what he is doing to me.

Damn, there go my panties.

I almost stumble over the step into the club and briefly catch Drew’s knowing look. We head up a set of wooden stairs that lead up to the first level of the club. The music is thumping through the walls, the floor vibrating.

Two more security guards are waiting in the hallway, and one leans forward to press the call button for the private elevator. Jude is taking it all in his stride. I’ve been here many times before and know what to expect, but he’s acting as if this is nothing new to him.

Hell, it isn’t. As a world famous rockstar, this must be second nature. Xander engages him in small talk as we board the elevator, and the security guard presses the ‘P’ button. Jude eyes him but is polite in his responses, even when Xander asks bluntly if he stole the money.

Drew slaps him in the chest and Wayne shakes his head.

“What?” Xander asks.

“That was rude, you imbecile,” Drew scowls. “I’m sorry for my inept brother-in-law’s manners, Jude. We’ll be rid of him as soon as we get inside.”

“It’s okay,” Jude says, then he turns to Xander. “And in answer to your question, no. I didn’t steal any money. I don’t need to.”

Xander regards him, then nods as if he accepts it. I resist the urge to punch him in the face as he grins around at us.

We arrive on the penthouse floor and all get out, heading into the private club. A few people look up when we walk in, but no one comes rushing over. I’m pretty sure they’re more interested in Wayne and Xander than Jude. The two men excuse themselves to go talk business, but Wayne shakes Jude’s hand again and says he’ll be back to join us in a little while, without his asshole brother.

Jude laughs and we follow Drew to the private booth reserved for Wayne when he shows up here. A server comes over with champagne and asks if we would like anything else as soon as we sit down. Jude asks for beer while Drew pours me and her a glass of Dom Perignon.

We make small talk, Drew filling Jude in on how we met and telling some embarrassing stories about our college days, that have Jude laughing. I’d be mad if I wasn’t happy to see him smiling. Whatever happened last night obviously caused a headache, seeing him laugh is a bonus.

Eventually, Drew slips out of the booth, saying she needs to go grab her sexy husband because there are way too many women in here eye-fucking him. She isn’t wrong. Jude waves as she leaves.

Then it’s just the two of us.

He’s staring again and I feel oddly self-conscious.

“You come alive when you’re with your friends.”

My brows dip, not sure what he means.

“You haven’t stopped smiling, even when Wayne’s brother was being an asshole.”

“Ignore him. He likes to stir up trouble to see what kind of reaction he can get.”

“I got that,” he nods. “I’ve met guys like him before.”

The stem of the champagne glass in my hand is cold as I twist it between my fingers, watching the bubbles sizzling at the bottom of the glass.

“I don’t want to pry but, are you sure you’re okay to be out tonight?”

“You heard about what happened?”

“Yeah, Wayne filled me in. He knows the owner of the club. Is Ethan in jail?”

“No, our lawyers got him out and somehow convinced the owner not to press charges. I’m presuming a lot of money changed hands.”

He leans back in the seat and looks out over the small bar. People have started dancing. Including Drew and Wayne. It’s busy enough up here that the floor is full. This booth is so private no one can hear anything we say, but Jude still seems hesitant. His brow is creased, and he picks at the label on his bottle of beer.

I lean forward and put my elbows on the table, angling slightly so I can see him better.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not now,” he sighs. “I’ll bend your ear off later, but tonight, let’s just have fun. I know I don’t need to worry about anyone overhearing. I’m just over it. Your friend Wayne has this place buttoned up tighter than a nun’s pus-” he cuts himself off, but when I burst out laughing, he grins. “Wanna dance?”

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