“I can’t help it if women want me,” Mason said with a shrug. “No need to be jealous just because I get laid on a regular basis.”
“You’re such a cocky bastard, and I’m far from jealous,” Levi replied, his always serious tone tinged with humor. “It’s called being discriminate, not that I expect you to understand what a big word like that means.”
“Ha ha. It means you’re boring as fuck.” He couldn’t resist goading his by-the-book, rule-abiding, straight-laced cop brother. While Mason had been a hell-raiser and defiant during his teen years—and still had his moments of being wild and impulsive—Levi had been a quiet kid who’d been much too serious and never gotten into trouble. He thought about consequences before he acted, he never drank alcohol, and he obviously didn’t let his dick lead him astray.
Which meant Levi missed out on a whole lot of fun, and wasn’t that the point of going to Vegas? Other than his brother getting hitched, of course.
“Are you going to be a Debbie Downer on this trip?” he asked Levi.
His brother drank the last of his orange juice before responding. “Just because I don’t chase after everything in a skirt like you do doesn’t mean I’m a Debbie Downer.”
Mason decided to test that theory. “So, that means you’re up to taking Clay to a strip club for his last night as a free man?”
Before Levi could reply, Clay leaned over the armrest, his head popping into the aisle as he jumped into the conversation he’d obviously been listening to. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mase, but we’re not going to a strip club.”
Mason threw his hands up in the air, disappointed in both of his brothers. “See, now this is why I don’t do serious relationships. Being pussy-whipped just sucks all the fun out of what a true bachelor party should be.”
Chapter Two
After arriving in Vegas and checking into their individual suites at the Bellagio, the guys and girls split up to go their separate ways for the afternoon and evening. While Mason promised to make Clay’s last day and night as a free man a memorable one, Katrina and Tara opted for a more low-key approach for the bride-to-be and took Samantha to the hotel spa, where they all indulged in long, luxurious massages, body wraps that left their skin soft and glowing, and hydrating facials.
A few hours later, nails complete, they sat side by side in pedicure chairs, their final treatment of the day. All three of them were wrapped up in soft, fluffy robes, drinking a glass of champagne, and eating chocolate-covered strawberries.
Life didn’t get much sweeter than this, Katrina thought with a content sigh. She settled back in the cushy leather chair while enjoying her first ever detoxifying foot soak, unable to recall ever being so pampered and relaxed or feeling so calm. Since sex wasn’t in her foreseeable future, despite what she’d told Mason today on the plane about hooking up with a random stranger, she decided that nurturing her body, mind, and soul with an array of therapeutic services was the next best thing.
“Thank you for an amazing day,” Samantha said, her smooth complexion glowing from her recent facial, and for the man she was about to marry. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you two here for the wedding this weekend, and for standing up as my maids of honor. I adore you both so much.”
Katrina smiled. Samantha might have come from a wealthy family, but she was sweet, genuine, and the best thing that had ever happened to Clay. “We feel the same way about you,” she said as the three of them clinked their champagne glasses together in a toast.
“And we wouldn’t miss this wedding for anything,” Tara added as she picked up a ripe, red strawberry and bit into the chocolate tip.
Samantha raised a recently shaped brow. “Why, because you can’t believe that Clay is really getting married and want to witness it for yourselves?” Her tone was light and teasing, her pretty blue eyes sparkling happily.
Katrina knew she was joking, but wanted the other woman to know that their reasons for being here were much more authentic. “No, because you and Clay are meant to be together, and we’re all family, which means we’ll always be here for you.”
The word family didn’t come easily to Katrina, not when her own deadbeat father had walked away when she was thirteen, and her mother had turned around and remarried a man who creeped Katrina out—and for good reason, she’d eventually learned. The people she now considered family were Mason and his brothers, and the few others who were allowed into her inner circle. People who had proven themselves loyal, dependable, and trustworthy. And now, that small group included Samantha.
“If we’re family,” Samantha said, looking from Katrina to Tara with affection. “Then that makes you two my sisters, which I’ve always wanted to have.”
Katrina smiled as she wriggled her toes in the warm, silky water bubbling around her feet and ankles. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with us.”
Quiet moments passed as the three of them finished their champagne, and the calluses around their heels and toes were exfoliated, followed by hot towels around their calves and a paraffin wax treatment that left thei
r feet smooth and soft to the touch. Samantha bought a pretty pink nail polish she wanted each of them to wear, which matched the color of the maid-of-honor dresses and the flowers in her bouquet for tomorrow’s wedding.
“So, what would you like to do on your last night as a single woman?” Tara asked as they waited for their toenails to dry. “I’ve heard Thunder From Down Under is the show of choice for bachelorettes. Watching hot, chiseled men dance and strip and thrust their hips could be fun.”
Samantha wrinkled her nose in a clear veto of that idea. “I’ll pass on the Aussies. The only man I want to watch strip naked is Clay. That man is so freakin’ hot I’d give him a lap dance any day,” she said with a cute, champagne-induced giggle.
Yeah, Samantha was head-over-heels in love, and Katrina couldn’t help but envy the fact that her friend had found the one—and Clay was equally smitten. Their unwavering relationship and feelings for each other made Katrina all the more aware of her own lack of male companionship, and made her wish for more.
Even though she’d harbored more intimate feelings for Mason for years, she’d tried to give other men a chance. She’d even been in a few short-term but committed relationships with nice, decent guys. Safe men who didn’t intimidate her and treated her with the kind of respect a woman deserved. Easygoing men who didn’t judge her by her purple-tipped hair, her eccentric clothing, or her sleeve of butterfly tattoos that made others label her as white trash or a tramp—terms her own stepfather had used to degrade and humiliate her.
But deep inside, Katrina knew that focusing on those more passive qualities when it came to the men she’d dated had been part of the problem and why those attempts at a relationship hadn’t worked for her. She wanted that safety and trust and respect—what girl didn’t?—but she also yearned for intense passion and the kind of heated desire that overwhelmed her body and senses. She wanted a man who was confident in his ability to take control and introduce her to the kind of forbidden pleasures her body craved, without making her feel cheap or dirty or vulnerable afterward.
So far, she hadn’t met a man with that unique ability, and maybe she never would. Which meant she’d eventually have to settle for a man who made her feel appreciated and secure, and forgo her fantasies of hot, demanding sex.
Samantha’s phone pinged, and she picked it up, then swiped her finger across the screen to unlock it. A dreamy smile curved her lips. “Speaking of my future hubby, he just sent me a text.”