“Yes, she does,” Ava stammers as she stares at the god in front of us.
He grabs my hand and drags me to the dance floor, and I give my friends a scared wave with my fingertips as my eyes widen.
Ava blows me a kiss and jiggles on the spot in excitement.
“What’s your name?” he asks as he wraps his arms around me.
I put my hands on his shoulders as I stare up at him. “Emily. What’s yours?”
“Rocco.”
I smile up at him. What a weird name. Gosh, I feel tipsy. I need to stop drinking.
“This is your first time here?” he says, as if he already knows the answer.
“How do you know that?” I smirk.
“I would have noticed you if you were here before.”
I smile bashfully.
His hands roam down to my behind, and I lift them back to my waist. “You’re very forward, Rocco.”
“I know what I want when I see it.”
I smile as he leans in and puts his lips to my ear.
“I want you,” he breathes.
Chapter 10
Jameson
“Hmm, not bad,” Christopher murmurs as an attractive redhead walks past us.
We both watch her as she saunters over to the bar. She’s wearing a tight black dress, and she has a perfectly rounded ass. I scrunch my nose up in distaste. “Average.”
“She is not average.” His eyes drop to her behind and stay firmly fixed. “Far from it, actually.”
“Not doing it for me.” I sigh against my glass as I look around the crowded club. It’s a rarity that a woman catches my attention these days, with the exception of Little Miss Snarky. I can’t get enough of her . . . even if she is completely unmanageable.
Our exchange in my office on Monday runs through my mind, and I exhale heavily.
She’s so fucking difficult.
It would help if I could keep my mouth shut when I see her. For some reason, she has me blurting out demands and grabbing her by the hair; it’s as if my body takes on a need of its own and completely leaves my brain out of the equation.
Every time Emily leaves my office in a huff, I kick myself for handling her the wrong way.
I know women; I know how they think, and I can usually get them to do whatever I want. Her . . . not so much.
Christopher licks his lips as he watches the redhead. “I’m going in.” He strides across the club and says something to her as she stands at the bar, and in slow motion, she smiles up at him.
I smirk and sip my drink as I watch him in action. He loves women—all women. It seems to be a family trait; we’re all wired the same way.
Something’s changed for me lately, though. My appetite for variety has waned. Something’s off, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I glance over to Tristan and Elliot as they talk to two girls in the lounge. The women are being all animated and laughing on cue at everything that comes out of the boys’ mouths.
Bimbos.