Page 26 of The Playboy

“Okay,” she groaned. “What about the parking lot? Do you know how many times a woman gets mugged—or worse—on the way to her car?”

“It’s well lit.” I grabbed her arm, trying to reassure her so we could move on from this topic. “I swear, it’s fine.”

Her black-rimmed eyes narrowed—she hadn’t bothered to wash off her makeup before bed. “Unless”—she tilted her head, analyzing my stare—“you’re meeting someone there. And you’re not really alone. And you just don’t want to introduce us to him yet.” She gasped. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Ha! No. Not even close.” I stole the last nugget. “We both know I’m not looking, nor am I interested in any ofthat.”

“But the dress.” She grabbed my waist, smoothing out the fabric to show how it hugged me. “This is the sexiest thing you own.”

It also happened to be the only dress I owned.

And the reason I wore it to the club was because it was so comfortable to dance in. The cotton shell didn’t restrict me the way shorts and jeans would.

“I get why the outfit is misleading, but don’t you think I’d try a little harder with my hair and makeup if I was attempting to impress a guy?”

I’d only given my locks a quick brush, my lashes a solo swipe of mascara, and my lips a thin coat of gloss before I left for the club.

Most, if not all, had probably worn off.

From the way I sweat while I danced.

And fromhim.

The tingles were back, strumming through my muscles even harder than before.

What the hell did I do tonight?

That deliciously handsome stranger—that was what I’d done.

I’d found him completely irresistible from the moment I’d spotted him in the VIP lounge. He had the most alluring green eyes, the color of a twinkling emerald, a stare that held me and wouldn’t let go. With dark coffee-colored hair that he kept short besides the pieces in the front that he gelled to a point, an overly square jaw that was covered in a thick but well-manicured beard. Lips that were sexy and full, a mouth that had consumed me the second it landed on mine.

That had caused a spark through every muscle, bone—heck, even my blood.

And his body. Oh man, that was on an entirely different level. Corded muscles that bulged, each one so defined that it was like he’d been etched from rock.

His hands were so large that they covered me like a blanket, and when he’d held me, I’d felt like a feather.

I’d never felt like a feather before.

And that dick—oh my God.

The length. The girth.

The power and strength in which he’d fucked me.

I was wet all over again.

But I couldn’t let that show on my face because Jess was taking inventory of the makeup I still had on, studying me while she chomped on fries, like she was trying to connect the pieces I was keeping from her.

“I suppose you’d put in just a little more effort, yes.” She finally broke away, grabbing the bottle of ketchup from the fridge and squirting more into the box. When her eyes returned to me, she said, “But there’s something I can’t figure out that you’re definitely not saying, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

She was right; I didn’t tell them the other reason I went to the club alone.

Dancing was a major part of it. It was what I loved to do.

But there was more.

She expected it to be this epic surprise. There was really nothing epic about it.

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