Page 44 of Better Left Unsaid

Before I could say anything and basically tell Allie it wasn’t happening, Brady showed up, passing her a drink as he held up his beer. “Looks like Dom might not be coming home with us tonight.”

Hmm? I angled my head to look his way, and wouldn’t you know, he was talking to a woman. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see what he was doing or saying, or what his facial expressions said. Based on their body language, though, and the fact that she kept pushing her chest forward and playing with the bottom of her hair, her tongue darting out to wet her red as sin lips, I’d say they were having a very nice conversation. Too nice. I knew he wouldn’t sleep with her tonight. But that didn’t stop him from flirting. And why would it? He could ask her out.

So much for us finding an opportunity for a little sexual fun of our own tonight.

I really only had myself to blame, though, didn’t I? Tonight I was being a little. . . never mind that, I didn’t need to say it.

So maybe I should loosen up and dance with a perfect stranger.

“You know what?” I asked, raising my voice a little as if I just got the biggest push in the world, the push I needed. “I’m going to ask him if he wants to buy me a drink.”

Allie raised an arm and yelped. “You go, sister!”

“Thank you,” I replied, leaving my cosmopolitan behind and deciding to make a little fun of my own tonight, just like everyone else.

Why should everyone else have all the fun? I didn’t like clubs, but maybe it was because I wasn’t doing them right. I wasn’t. . . letting my hair down. Which reminded me—I tugged at the band in my hair and tossed it at Allie. I could stay here all night with an attractive man, drinking and dancing. So why the hell shouldn’t I?

“Don’t wait up,” I said, feeling cheeky and confident.

Hey, there was a first time for everything.

Chapter Thirteen

Dominic

“So what doyou say, sexy?” Tatiana—that was the name of the woman who was currently hitting on me—asked, her long claws finding my chest and scratching down it. Only, the feeling wasn’t turning me on, it was making me want to pluck her fingers off my skin. Which was exactly what I did.

“As much as I appreciate the offer to go back to your place so you can ‘ride my tongue until the sun comes up’”—her words, not mine—“I’m going to have to pass.” And that’d be a hard pass. Because not a single thing about her drew me in. I only had one woman on my mind, and she was the one woman who didn’t seem to be ready to give herself over to me. Or to a good time.

I wasn’t sure why either. We promised to try to find a way to sneak in a little fun tonight, but once we got here it was like she barricaded herself off.

Maybe she wasn’t looking for sex tonight.

And that was fine.

But I’d swear I was being tortured.

This wasn’t even a case of he-wants-what-he-can’t-have (in this case,whohe can’t have). Although, I couldn’t have her, and I did want her, so maybe it was, just not in the traditional sense.

“You’re turning me down?” Her low voice that sounded like a barely-there whisper raised to a normal volume. Another thing I wasn’t tired of—the phoniness I got from ninety percent of women just so we could have a good fuck. Those days were behind me, and I couldn’t have been happier about it. She pushed her tits out and angled her head, trying again. “Are you sure? We could have some real—”

Her words were cut off by the blood pumping in my ears. Maria breezed past me so fast I thought I was going to get whiplash. Then she stopped short, approaching a sleazy (okay, I didn’t actuallyknowhe was sleazy) son of a bitch. She had to be kidding me. This joker didn’t give two flying shits about her. He saw her as one thing with fine assets—a walking vagina with nice tits and a firm ass. Men weren’t that difficult to figure out, trust me.

I actually cared about Maria, but don’t mistake my caring for every man caring. They didn’t. Well, most of them didn’t. A very good majority of them didn’t. That was my honest-to-goodness-hold-my-hand-on-a-stack-of-Bibles truth for you. Take it and run with it because no one would ever be more real with you than I’d just been.

Tatiana kept chirping away, and I caught bits and pieces. Something about how she just got over a long-term relationship and wanted no-strings-attached fun. Problem? I already had that with a woman who I wanted more with and didn’t seem to be getting it. So it seemed Tatiana and I were at an impasse. I couldn’t give her what she wanted, though. Maybe if Maria wasn’t in the picture, things would’ve been different, but she was, and playing hypotheticals was never a good time for me.

I had no idea if I cut her off or not, but I held a hand up. “Could you excuse me?” I asked, my eyes hell-bent on focusing on the one person who mattered most to me in this entire club. Hell, in the entire goddamn state of New York.

I would have loved to know what she was doing. Which was why I was going to go over there and see for myself.

Again, not a clue if the woman answered because I had already checked out. Yeah, yeah, judge me all you wanted, but I had more pertinent matters to tend to. Like getting that fuckboy’s hand off my girl’s arm. Oh, shit, she wasn’t my girl. Fine, scratch that, my friend’s arm. Nah, it didn’t sit well with me. In my head, she was my girl. And now I sounded like a delusional fucker—again. Great, just great. I really had to work on my grip on reality. Oh well, another time.

I had a feeling the only two that lucked out tonight were Perla and Frankie, staying home to watch the kids. Honestly, I would have rather done that with Maria.Yeah, so I could have more time to secretly pine over a woman who isn’t pining over me.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Allie asked as she came out of nowhere, her hand suddenly on my shoulder, trying to hold me back from continuing my journey to Maria and Sleazeball.

My fists curled at my side, and my body temperature rose. I wasn’t jealous, though, so don’t go thinking I was. I was just trying to save my friend from making a mistake. Sure, she wouldn’t sleep with him, but I knew his type. He’d find out it was a boyfriend she wanted and that she didn’t do random hookups, and if he was okay with waiting for a big payout—which was rare, I’d admit—he’d date her only to screw her. She’d feel, well, screwed—and not in a good way, like the way I knew I made her feel—and she’d be hurt. Forget all of that. I’d hurt him before he could hurt her. Problem solved.

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