No Strings

“Nonsense,” I tell her, pulling her into my side. “We have anything you want.”

“Umm…” She averts her gaze to think, then looks up at me. “I like Grey Goose.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Nadine scrunches up her nose at the mention of the cheap vodka, but when I raise a single brow, she smooths her features.

“Grey Goose for the ladies,” I tell Nadine, not giving a shit about anything other than giving Savannah what she wants. Most women would rattle off a bottle way more expensive just because she knows she can but not Savannah. She’s as real as it gets. “And a bottle of Macallan 25 as well,” I add because there’s no way I’m drinking that shit.

Nadine smirks at the difference in prices between the two bottles before she quickly schools her features again and scurries away to put in our order.

“What’s Macallan?” Savannah asks as I guide us over to one of the couches in our section to have a seat.

“Damn good whiskey.”

While we wait for the drinks to arrive, some of Brianne’s friends show up, along with a couple of Lucas’s and my friends. Introductions are made, and then a few minutes later, Nadine returns with the bottles and glasses, asking everyone which bottle they’d like so she can pour the drinks.

“To great friends and even greater women,” Lucas says, raising his glass and locking eyes with his girlfriend. Everyone agrees and clinks glasses before downing their drinks. It’s been a while since I’ve drunk, but the whiskey flows smoothly down my throat.

A few more friends of Brianne’s join our table while everyone talks and drinks. Eventually, the women make their way to the dance floor while the guys stay put.

I sit back and watch as Savannah dances with Brianne to the beat of the music. At some point, she lifts her hair on top of her head and turns her back to me, and I damn near choke on my drink. From the front, she’s gorgeous, but from the back… fuck. The chains holding her dress up wrap around her slim neck, leaving her entire back on display, and the material picks up again at the top of her ass. She’s stunning, and I’m positive, before long, some asshole will be hitting on her.

The guys bullshit about various topics, catching up on sports and business. I keep half my attention on their conversation while keeping an eye on Savannah, watching as she lets loose. The women eventually come back for another drink and then head back out to continue their dancing.

My restraint is about gone, and I’m considering joining Savannah on the dance floor when it happens… a guy approaches her. I wait with bated breath for her to tell him no, but instead, she extends her hand and allows him to guide her away from her friends and over to the VIP bar. Fuck, he’s buying her a drink. She doesn’t need a drink, but of course she doesn’t tell him that. I can’t see what she orders, but a minute later, the bartender hands her a glass. She turns toward him, her body way too fucking close to his, and smiles, no doubt thanking him.

“You going to let him slide in on your woman?” Marcus says.

“She’s not my woman.” I grab my drink and drain it in one fell swoop.

But fuck if I don’t want her to be.

Chapter Eleven

Savannah

I can feel Ben’s searing hot gaze on me, but I ignore it, focusing on the gentleman in front of me. His name is Dexter, and he’s a CEO of some big company that he’s spent the past twenty minutes bragging about while I nurse the disgusting drink he bought me. He insisted on buying it for me after I told him I was drinking Grey Goose, telling me we could do better than that.

He hasn’t once asked me anything about myself, and if his self-involved personality is any indication as to how he’d be in bed, I’d be better off using a toy than counting on him to give me a single orgasm, let alone countless ones.

“I think I see my friend calling me over,” I say to him when his mouth stops moving long enough for me to get a word in. “But, um, thanks for the drink.” He opens his mouth back up to say something, but before he can get a word out, my back is to him—and I’ve left my drink on the bar top.

I’m searching for my party when another gentleman stops me.

“Are you here alone?” he asks, his Spanish accent on the strong side.

“I’m here with some friends.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

I’m about to tell him no thanks—been there, done that—when my eyes land on Ben. He’s sitting in the same spot with his glass of whiskey in his hand and his gaze locked on me, drinking me in and waiting for me to fail so he can swoop in and seduce me. Not going to happen…