Page 3 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
“No,” I answer, turning just enough to avoid his gaze. “Looks like she went home.” I pull my phone from my clutch and see a message from her.
Ava: Couldn’t find you. Heading home with Sven to kick my feet up. Levi and Eric are still hanging out somewhere. The limo will come back for you guys. Have fun! Xoxo.
I quickly type off a reply before turning my gaze toward Wolf.
“I love dresses like this,” Wolf says. “All that exposed skin and a slit riding up the thigh like an invitation.” His eyes glide along my arms, my collarbone, and linger in a way that sends shivers chasing down my spine.
“And those heels are killer,” Jester adds.
Theyarekiller. As in, they’re killing my feet. I had to practice walking and dancing in these four-inch sequined stilettos before I committed to wearing them. And now? They feel like a punishment, but are worth every ounce of pain for the way they complete my look.
We’re near an abstract statue and a staff cart tucked into a small alcove. Wolf keeps glancing at it like he wants to pull me behind it, out of sight. His palms are on my shoulders again, confident, lingering.
Under different circumstances, I might feel uneasy surrounded by strangers. But this isn’t like slinging drinks at a dive back home. We’re visible here, and this is a high-profile event. Classy. Safe. And more than anything, these men don’tfeeldangerous. Well, maybe just dangerous to my restraint.
It’s just harmless flirting. Okay, more like bold, intoxicating flirting. Maybe it’s the champagne. Or the tequila. Or the masks.
“Any of you care to dance?” I purr, owning this new, untamed version of myself.
“Mmm,” Lion growls. “I’ve got first dibs, sweetheart.”
I smirk, tucking my hair behind one shoulder. “Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got more than one dance left in me.”
Before we make our way to the dance floor, he surprises me, tracing a slow finger from my temple, over the mask, down the bridge of my nose… and across my bottom lip.
My breath catches, my nipples tightening instantly from the contact and from his piercing eyes, the only visible part of his face. For a moment, dancing is the furthest thing from my mind. His brown eyes lock onto mine—rich like a glass of aged Scotch, dark, golden, and intense—searing through the mask like they might burn it away.
Then, warm breath ghosts over my ear, just before teeth nip into my earlobe. I moan softly, involuntarily. It hurts, just a touch, but the wicked spark it sends racing through me is anything but unwelcome.
Wolf.
I want him to do it again, but harder this time.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, stepping back with slow, deliberate arrogance, arms folding across his chest like he knows exactly what he just did to me. That stance, all dominance and unspoken challenge, lights me up from the inside out. And the wet heat pooling in my lace panties says it all.
Jester takes a step closer, his voice low. “I’ve got plans for you, if you’re interested. Maybe a private corridor. A room. How bold are you feeling tonight, darlin’?”
His breath brushes my skin like a promise. His fingers graze my wrist, and even through the tux’s silk-weight fabric, I can feel the power of him. Everything about Jester makes me want to combust.
My thoughts boomerang around my brain at his words so much that I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
He’s too forward. He’s irresistible.
What are we doing? I don’t know.
I want this. Do I?
Yes. Yes, I do.
I want him wholeheartedly, unabashedly. Yet it feels risky. Reckless. Like I’ve stripped off every inhibition and become something wild and feral, driven purely by instinct and a heat that’s clearly short-circuiting my reason. I’m tangled in craving and chaos, and the thoughts rushing through my head drown out everything else.
And my desires? They’re absolutely greedy.
I tilt my head, tension humming between us, then I smirk. “Bold enough to make you regret asking.”
“Oh?” he says, intrigued. “Something tells me I’d never regret anything with you.”
Fortune favors the bold, right? Time to test that theory.
