She laughs, the sound genuinely amused this time, instead of that artificial giggle. “Oh, please. A man like you? I bet you haveplenty of rhythm.” Her voice drops to what she probably thinks is a seductive whisper. “I would love to test the theory.”
Again, I don’t think she’s talking about dancing.
“I’m sure you’re wrong about that,” I tell her.
“Come on,” she tries again, her hands reaching for me. “Just one dance, Damien. What could it hurt?”
Before I can decline again, Thompson stands and holds up his hand.
“What about a dance with me instead?” he asks with a grin, extending his hand toward Bella. “I’ve been dying to get out there since we arrived.”
Bella’s face falls slightly – clearly, I was her first choice – but she recovers quickly. “Yeah, um…” She looks over at me, and when I don’t say anything, she takes Thompson’s offered hand. “But you owe me a dance later.” She points a perfectly manicured finger at me.
I nod and watch as they head toward the upper-level dance floor, which is just as packed and energetic as the main floor below.
The moment they’re gone, Webb turns to me with exasperation written all over his face.
“What the hell are you doing, Marsh?” he demands, leaning forward in his chair. “That woman was practically throwing herself at you. Beautiful, willing, and clearly interested in no-strings-attached fun.” He shakes his head. “I’d give just about anything for a night with someone like that, and you’re just…letting her walk away? What the fuck, man?!”
Before I can answer, our waitress reappears at the table, her professional smile bright as ever.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” she asks, noting our empty champagne flutes. The bottle of Cristal is upside down in the bucket.
“More of the same,” Webb says immediately. “The good stuff. We’re celebrating.” He winks at her.
“And for you, sir?” she asks, turning to me.
“Just a beer.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “We have an excellent selection of imported beers. We have some beautiful German—”
“Local is good,” I interrupt. “Whatever you’ve got on tap will do just fine.”
“Of course.” She nods and disappears back into the crowd.
Webb stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Beer? We’re drinking thousand-dollar champagne courtesy of one of the richest men in America, and you order beer?”
I shrug. “I like beer.”
“That’s not the point,” Webb says, frustration evident in every line of his body. “The point is that you need to make the most of our time here. We may never get invited to a place like this again. You should be drinking the expensive drinks, eating the expensive food, and yes, sleeping with one or two of these incredible women. I recommend two…at once.” He laughs.
Webb glances toward the dance floor, where Bella is thrusting her hips to the pulsing beat.
“I guarantee you that redhead would be amazing in bed. Flexible, enthusiastic, grateful…” He trails off, his eyes taking on a slightly glazed quality. “You need to live a little, Marsh. Take advantage of all of this.” He lifts his hands and looks around us.
I force a smile and nod like I agree with him, playing the part of the guy who’s just being cautious instead of completely uninterested.
But the truth is, even as Bella was pressed against me, even as she made it crystal clear what she was offering, all I could think about was someone else.
Green eyes instead of brown. Short hair instead of long red waves. A smart mouth that challenges me instead of giggling and empty compliments.
The taste of her pussy on my tongue. The desperate sounds she’d made as she came apart on my mouth. The way her slick channel clenched around my fingers like she never wanted to let me go.
Fuck.
I shift in my chair, working to keep my body from responding. The last thing I need is to get hard, here and now.
The smart thing would be to take him up on his advice. Find some willing woman – Bella or someone like her – and work out all this pent-up sexual frustration. Get Shadow out of my system, once and for all.