Page 20 of Snared

I had no business watching her at all, but my head was currently—epically—fucked up. I still couldn’t believe we were married, but I’d found the marriage license in my room after she’d left yesterday morning. There was no way this was a prank.

I should’ve bailed tonight and stayed in my room. I had a ton of work waiting for me—contracts to go over, emails to respond to, meetings to prepare for. Actual work—not tour grunt work.

But here I was, leaning over the railing in the VIP section of some club, unable to take my eyes off mywifeon the dance floor below me. It’s not like I’d never seen her dance in the year that I’d known her, but for some reason, my body itched to press up behind her, grip her hip in my hand, and squeeze until she pushed me away or rocked back against me.

This was a problem.

“You zoning out on me?” Tristan asked, shaking me from musings I had no business having.

“After this drink,” I said, holding up my half-empty whiskey glass like I hadn’t spaced out in my head for a second. The selection of liquor was stellar, but I had no plans to overindulge. Dealing with another hangover and my twisted-up urges later wasn’t ideal.

Hell, it’d already gotten me married. Not that I could completely blame that on the booze.

“You focused on anyone in particular down there?” he asked, leaning over the railing.

“Just surveying my options,” I said nonchalantly. I made sure to scan the entire crowd so he wouldn’t notice where my focus kept returning all night.

Tristan laughed. “Sure, sure. Best to get your rocks off before we get back on the bus though. Those bunks are not spacious.”

“You have experience with that recently?” I teased, knowing full well that he’d taken Evie back there when we’d been in Chicago a few weeks ago.

Tristan smirked. “A gentleman never tells.”

“Who’s a gentleman? Definitely not CH,” Jax said from the top of the VIP stairs.

I tossed back the rest of my whiskey. “Pot meet kettle.”

“I’m offended,” Jax said.

Tristan chuckled. “That happens a lot.”

“Why so cruel, MB? Can you believe how mean he is,” Jax said, turning to the woman giggling next to him.

“What?” she asked, confused or drunk. Probably a combination of both.

“Never mind. Let’s get another drink. I’m parched from all that dancing,” Jax said, ushering her into the corner of our section.

She giggled again.

Jax was the last single man standing in the group, and he lived it up. Typical rock star, but I wasn’t about to begrudge him the rewards of his hard work.

“In case you were ready for another,” our waitress said as she placed another glass of whiskey at my elbow.

“Thanks.” I nodded, taking her in. I hadn’t looked her over when we’d first arrived, but she was stunning, with long brown hair, perfect makeup, hips I could imagine my hands skating over, and tits that looked ready to burst out of her top.

Not that I was complaining.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she murmured, an invitation clear in her eyes as she ran her hand over my arm. I knew the game.

I nodded, contemplating her offer. Maybe getting laid would fix my head.

She walked away with a subtle swish of her hips, her tight skirt pulling across her ass. My dick barely stirred.

“Tsk-tsk. Looks like baby bassist is trying to make a move on Charlie.” Jax’s words grabbed my attention, and I turned to notice him looking over the rail from his spot on the sofa’s arm.

“Nah. She’d never go for him,” Tristan said.

I turned back to look down at the crowd. Bash and Cassie were wrapped up in each other, and a few of the Savage Night guys were dancing nearby.

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