Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate 3)

“Where the hell is she going?” Scooting into the seat Brittany just vacated, Casey hands me a beer, but her eyes are locked on her sister’s retreating form.

“I’m an asshole.” A fucking asshole.

Brittany’s blatant honesty caught me off guard and I froze. She had made it clear that she wasn’t into dating, only meaningless sex. Therefore, I expected her to brush off my question, or at the very least come up with some sort of sarcastic answer. But the vulnerability on her face when she said she loved my smile was unmistakable, and it left me at a loss for words.

I had been seconds away from telling her that I’d gladly have meaningless sex with her if the offer still stood. The need to touch her was growing by the second, and although I would’ve hated myself in the morning, I was willing to take whatever she would give me.

But then I saw it. The truth behind whatever façade she was putting up was short-lived, but it was all I needed. I knew right then and there that if I played my cards right, I could break down her walls … and I desperately want to break down her walls.

“Most men are,” she mumbles. We both watch as Brittany finds an empty spot on the dance floor and starts moving her body in perfect rhythm with the music. “But,” she says, turning toward me, “I have a feeling that you, sir, are a redeemable asshole.”

Choosing not to comment, I take a drink of my beer. I know I’m not really an asshole, and I can tell by the tone of Casey’s voice she doesn’t think that either.

“She likes to think she’s made for meaningless sex,” Casey says, confirming what I had begun to suspect. “But she isn’t. It’s not who she is. She’s been hurt, and this is her way of protecting herself.”

Casey takes a sip of her purple concoction. When I open my mouth to respond, she holds up a hand, signaling me to wait. Lowering her glass to the table, she twirls it between her fingers. “There are two things you should know about my sister. First,” she says, holding up a finger, “she can’t—and I repeat cannot—say no to the Cardinals.” I furrow my brows, completely confused as to what the Cardinals have to do with anything. Before I can ask, Casey quickly continues. “And second, when it comes right down to it, she will always follow her heart. Now,” she says, sliding from the booth, drink in hand. “That’s all you need to know to land my sister. What you do with it is completely up to you. But”—she points a finger at me—“if you break her heart, I will hunt you down and do godawful things to your manhood.” Without a second glance, she spins on her heel and walks away.

For the second time in a matter of minutes, a woman has rendered me speechless. But this time I don’t let the girl get away. “Why are you helping me?” I ask.

Casey stops mid-step and looks over her shoulder. “Because I love my sister more than anyone else in this world, and I saw a spark in her eyes tonight that I haven’t seen in over two years. I want to see that spark every day, Connor.” I have absolutely no idea what to say to that, so I nod. “Now”—Casey gestures toward the dance floor—“you better go get your girl before some other asshole snags her.” With a quick wink, she walks away.

Tipping my head back, I drain what’s left of my beer then scoot out from behind the table. I may be an asshole, but I’m a smart asshole, and she doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I stand up and walk toward the edge of the dance floor. It isn’t big, but you’d never know by the number of bodies currently inhabiting the small space. It doesn’t take long to locate Brittany, and not because my eyes are drawn to her like a magnet—which they are—but because she’s the one with men c

ircling her, waiting to stake their claim.

She’s completely oblivious to the attention she’s getting, and for some reason I find that insanely attractive. Brittany has a kick-ass body that most women would pay ridiculous amounts of money for, and she isn’t even using it to get what she could clearly have—what she stated she wants.

Her head is tilted back, eyes closed, and when the beat of the song shifts, she tosses a hand up in the air. Slowly, she lowers her hand, threading her fingers into her straight blonde hair as her hips roll from side to side.

I’ve watched women dance before. Hell, I’ve even had a few lap dances, but nothing compares to watching this woman dance. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and my cock swells against the confines of my zipper. Without bothering to hide it, I adjust myself and take a step toward Brittany. The guy next to me must be thinking the exact same thing because he too takes a step in her direction.

Ain’t fuckin’ happening.

I hold my arm out and it bumps him in the chest. “She’s taken, bro,” I say. His reply is nothing but muffled noise because I don’t stick around to listen. In three long strides, I’m standing behind Brittany.

Heat from her body is rolling off in waves. She smells like a mixture of sweat and tropical flowers with a hint of summer, and it’s hands down the most intoxicating fragrance I’ve ever encountered. Unable to keep my distance, I step toward her until the front of my body molds against her back. She doesn’t look to see who it is, but she doesn’t move away either. I’m not sure if that makes me happy or insanely jealous.

Does she know it’s me? Does she feel the same strange sensation in her chest when we’re within arm’s reach of each other? Or would she dance with just anyone pressed against her backside?

Our bodies move together for several beats, her hips rocking from side to side. Gripping her waist with my right hand, I pull her body flush with mine. Her ass pushes against my groin and she gasps.

Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “That’s what you do to me.” Her body shivers at the sound of my voice, and when her head drops to my chest, I push my hips forward.

Looking down, I see Brittany’s eyes flutter open and then her eyes lock on mine. Her chest rises and falls with each sharp intake of breath, and that’s when I know she’s just as affected as I am. The music keeps playing, but our bodies are no longer moving. Everything around us fades away. All of the other bodies—gone. It’s just this insanely sexy woman and me. I wait patiently for her to make her move and then, as though the DJ himself knew exactly what we needed, the music shifts and everything changes.

“Ride” by Chase Rice pumps through the speakers. Brittany spins in my arms until her ample chest is pressed snugly against mine. She regards me quietly for several seconds and then her eyes drop to my mouth.

Hell yeah.

I slowly run my tongue along my bottom lip, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t just whimper.

“You’re teasing me, Mr. Jackson.” Her words come out all breathy as she drags her gaze to mine.

“Trust me”—I slide my arm around her waist and she comes willingly when I pull her in close—“there are a lot of things going on right now, but teasing isn’t one of them.”

Brittany closes her eyes. She takes a shuddery breath and blows it out, drawing my attention to her pouty lips. Without thinking twice, I dip my head until my lips brush hers.