Lover Unbound (Black Dagger Brotherhood 5)

He was thinking seriously of bailing when a blast of heat hit him, like from out of nowhere. He looked up to the ceiling, wondering if he was sitting under an air vent and the furnace had just come on.

No.

He glanced around -

Oh, shit. The head of security was coming through the VIP section's velvet rope.

As the dim overhead lights hit her, John swallowed hard. She was in the same outfit as before, wearing a muscle shirt that showed off her powerful arms and a pair of leathers that were tight over her hips and long thighs. Her hair had been trimmed since he'd seen her, the brush cut gleaming.

The second her eyes met his he looked away, his face the color of a fire engine. In a panic he convinced himself that she was going to know what he'd done when he was thinking of her earlier today. She was going to know he... came while she was on his mind.

Damn it, he wished he had a drink to play with. And a cold pack for his cheeks.

He grabbed Blay's beer and took a swig as he sensed she was coming this way. Man, he couldn't decide whether it would be worse if she stopped. Or didn't stop.

"Back again, but looking different." Her voice was low, like a banked fire. And made his blush worse. "Congratulations."

He cleared his throat. Which was stupid. Like he could say anything?

Feeling the fool, he mouthed the words, Thank you.

"Your friends go trolling?"

He nodded and took another pull on the Corona.

"Not you, though? Or are they bringing you something?" That amazing voice of hers was pure sex, making his body tingle... and his c**k stiffen. "Well, in case you didn't know, the bathrooms back there have some extra room and extra privacy." She laughed a little, as if she knew he was aroused. "Have fun with the girlies, but keep tight. Then you won't have to deal with me."

She walked away, and as she went the crowd parted for her, men big as football players getting out of her way. As John watched her go, he felt a sharp shooter in the front of his trousers and looked down. He was rock-hard. Thick as his frickin' forearm. And as he shifted in the seat, the friction of his pants made him bite down on his lower lip.

He put his hand underneath the table with the intention of moving things around down there so he could get some more room behind his fly... but the instant he came into contact with his erection, the image of that security guard popped back in his mind and he nearly lost it. He whipped his palm back so fast it banged into the underside of the table.

John rolled his hips, looking for relief but making the burn worse. He was itchy and dissatisfied, his mood quickly getting a dangerous edge. He thought about the release he'd given himself in his bed and decided that he could use another. Like now.

Like right now, before he came again.

Shit, maybe he could take care of himself here. With a frown, he looked over to the hallway that disappeared into the back and had doors on either side.

One of which happened to open.

A small redheaded woman who looked like a professional came out fluffing her hair and rearranging her bright pink getup. Right behind her was... Phury?

Yeah, that was definitely him, and he was tucking his shirt into the waistband of his slacks. The two didn't say a word to each other: The woman went to the left and started talking up a group of men; the Brother kept walking forward, like he was on his way out.

When Phury looked up, John locked eyes with him. After an awkward moment the warrior lifted his hand in greeting, then took off for a side exit, disappearing outside. John swigged up some more beer, utterly stunned. Sure as hell that woman hadn't been in a bathroom with the guy because she was giving him a back-rub. God, he was supposed to be celi -

"And this is John."

John jerked his head around. Whoa. Blay and Qhuinn had struck gold. The three human women with them were all very pretty and mostly undressed.

Qhuinn pointed to each of them. "This is Brianna, CiCi, and Liz. Girls, this is our man John. He uses sign language to talk, so we'll translate."

John finished off Blay's beer, feeling like a jerk as the communication barrier reared its ugly-ass head again. He was thinking about how to word his I'm-going-to-bail speech when one of the girls sat next to him, trapping him in the banquette.

A waitress came by and took orders, and after she left all this chatter and giggling sprang up, the girls' high notes mixing in with Qhuinn's deep voice and Blay's shy, low laugh. John kept his eyes down.

"God, you are so good-looking," one of the girls said. "Are you a model?"

The conversation abruptly lagged.

Qhuinn rapped his knuckles on the table in front of John. "Yo, J. She's talking to you."

John lifted his head in confusion, meeting his buddy's mismatched eyes. Qhuinn nodded pointedly toward the girl next to John, then bugged out his peepers, a kind of Would you get with the program here, my man?

John took a deep breath and glanced to his left. The girl was staring up at him with... shit, absolute starstruck devotion.

" 'Cause you are, like, so beautiful," she said to him.

Holy Christ, what did he do with that?

As the blood hit his face and his body tensed, he signed quickly to Qhuinn, I'm going to have Fritz pick me up. I've got to go.

John beat feet out of the banquette, half trampling the girl who'd sat next to him. He couldn't wait to get home.

Chapter Thirty-eight

When Jane's alarm went off at five A.M., she had to hit the snooze button. Twice. Usually she was out of bed and in the shower before knew she was upright, like the beep-beep-beep didn't so much wake her up as spring her out of bed like a toaster. Not today. Today she just lay against her pillows and stared at the ceiling.

God, the dreams she'd had during the night... dreams of that ghostly lover coming and taking her, riding her hard. She could still feel him on her, in her.

Enough, though. The more she thought of all that, the more her chest hurt, so, with a Herculean pull, she diverted her attention to work. Which, of course, then just got her tangled up about Manello. She couldn't believe he'd kissed her, but he had... he'd laid one right on her mouth. And as she'd always wondered in the back of her mind what he'd be like, she hadn't pulled away. So he'd kissed her again.

He was good, which wasn't a surprise. What was a news flash was the fact that it had felt wrong. Like she was being unfaithful to someone.

The damn alarm went off again, and she cursed as she shut it up with her hand. Goddamn, she was tired, even though she thought she'd gone to bed early. At least, she assumed it had been early, though she wasn't exactly sure when Manny had left. She recalled him helping her up here and settling her into bed, but her head was so scrambled she couldn't remember what time it had been or how long it had taken her to fall asleep.

Whatever.

Throwing off the covers, she headed for the bathroom and started the shower. As steam boiled up and clouded the air, she shut the bathroom door, pulled her T-shirt off, and -

Jane frowned as a feeling of wetness welled between her legs. Doing a quick count of the days, she figured her period must be wonky -

It wasn't her period. She'd had sex.

Cold shock replaced the heat from the steam. Oh, God... what had she done. What had she done?

Jane wheeled around, even though she had nowhere to go - only to clamp her hand over her mouth.

Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words; I love you, Jane.

She stumbled backward until she hit the door.

Shit. She'd slept with Manny Manello. And hadn't remembered a thing.

Phury took a seat in Wrath's study, this time on the delicate pale blue wing chair by the fireplace. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he had a cup of coffee in his hand.

He needed a blunt.

As the rest of the Brotherhood filed in, he looked at Wrath. "Mind if I light up?"

The king shook his head. "I'd consider it a public service. We could all use the contact high today."

God, wasn't that the truth. Everyone was off. Zsadist was twitchy over by the bookcases. Butch was distracted by the computer on his lap. Wrath looked exhausted behind a mountain of paperwork. Rhage was pacing around, unable to settle - a sure sign that he hadn't found a fight during the night hours.

And Vishous... V was the worst of them. He stood by the door, staring into space. Icy before, he was glacial now, a sinkhole in the room. Shit, he was even more grim than he'd been the night before.

As Phury lit up, he thought about Jane and V and idly wondered what the sex they'd had had been like. He imagined that, while they had had plenty of pummel sessions, there had been lovely moments of communion, too.