The Bet (Winslow Brothers 1)

“Probably because it’s not the first time.” She cringes, but also, the hint of a guilty smile kisses her perfect mouth.

It’s so fucking cute I wish I could snap a picture to remember the adorable expression on her pretty face. Not to mention, the realization that she’s not giving me even remotely the hard time she did Brad Phi Kappa spurs a thrill of satisfaction in my veins.

Something tells me Sophie Sage enjoys my kind of fun. And more than that, I think that’s why she’s here right now…

“Are you by yourself tonight?”

She nods, and her eyes flash like a traffic camera after she’s just run a red light. They tell a story, one made up of highs and lows and a conclusion that ends at this club with me, serving her willingness on a platter much larger than a simple text to my number. I’ve never been more certain of one thing—she is here for me.

And now the fun can begin. Game on.

I smirk, stand up, and reach down to take her hands into mine. Once I gently pull her off the velvet couch and to her feet, I wrap my arm around her waist and bring her closer to my chest so I can whisper, “You’re here,” into her ear.

“I am.” She nods again, and the shell of her ear brushes across my lips.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her truthfully and reach up to tuck a piece of her silky brown hair behind her ear. “That dress of yours is reason enough for you to actually have a parole officer, or hell, maybe for me to have one.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I’m liable to get into fifteen brawls on the dance floor tonight, Soph, and that’s just with the men who are brave enough to touch you. I can’t even consider the ones who are bound to be looking at you in this thing.”

Even to myself, I sound oddly territorial. I reason internally, though, that no boy likes to share the newest of his toys, and boys never really grow up. I want to kiss and dance and fuck. I don’t need any other men coming over with their bullshit one-liners and distracting her. Right now, I want all of her attention.

Her cheeks redden a little at my words, and my nose doesn’t miss the fact that she smells insanely good. The soft hints of vanilla and sweet sugar and something else I can’t determine fill my head and damn near make me high.

I have to get confirmation of her intentions quickly, before I get completely lost in her. “Are you here for me?” I ask bluntly, and Sophie leans back to search my eyes.

“Well…it’s either that or I’m having a temporary moment of insanity.” She scoff-laughs. “Hell, maybe it’s both.”

“Temporary insanity isn’t always a bad thing.” I smile and let my gaze flit from her gorgeous eyes to her full, red-painted lips before locking my eyes with hers again. “In this case, I think it means you’ve given yourself permission to have fun.”

“Yeah. I think that’s what it means, too.”

Instantly, a buzz of excitement blasts into my veins and sets my blood to singing. If Sophie Sage is here for fun, I’m going to make sure I give it to her. And with the club running as smoothly as it is, I have the freedom and time to make it happen.

Oh yeah. Tonight is going to be a good fucking night.

Sophie

Jude winks, takes one step back, and holds out his hand toward me.

Holy shit. Am I really doing this? Going out on a complete limb, ditching everything I’ve always known, and taking a chance on straight up not giving a shit about all the fine print?

Dr. Winters would be proud of me for stepping outside of my comfort zone, and both Julie and Belle would lose their shit. Katelynn would sort of freak out, but she’d at least make an effort to cover it up until she knew how close to the edge of my own cliff I was, but the real mess would be my mom. She’d be stealing holy water from the Catholic Church for me and smuggling it out in her purse, I’m pretty sure.

But this is the decision I made, this is what I want, and I’m going to see it through. No second thoughts. No doubts. No stressing about the future or making sure a guy checks off all the potential-husband boxes on my list. I’m just going to let Jude and the night lead me wherever they may.

On a deep inhale of fresh oxygen into my lungs, I dive headfirst into spontaneity by placing my hand in his. And Jude doesn’t waste any time taking us in an unknown direction.

As he guides us through the crowded dance floor, he places a gentle but steady hand at my lower back, and my body hums. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the insanely short dress I decided to wear, and my heart starts pounding at the mere sensation of having him touch me.