“I don’t want your love, get it out of sight.” The bass sped up and the dancefloor went crazy. “I just want that body, baby. All night! All night! All, all, all night!”
The singing faded, and the rhythm went insane—pounding and pumping. My blood drummed with the music.
“All night! All night! All, all, all night!”
I just needed one good drink, and I’d be out on that dance floor too.
I grinned.
I’ll probably be dancing all night.
My sisters claimed I couldn’t dance, but anytime I hit the floor, crowds of women surrounded me.
“They’re around you because of your muscles, dick head.” Patricia flipped me the middle finger. “You can’t dance worth shit, Logan.”
“Your jealousy makes me sad.” I did a turn and swung my hips, inciting laughter from all my sisters who hung around in my kitchen for breakfast every morning.
“No, Logan.” Cecilia shook her head and laughed some more. “It’s definitely the muscles.”
“No, Cee Cee.” I did a Michael Jackson kick to further the point. “It’s the moves.”
“It’s the muscles!” they all screamed in unison.
Tyson signaled at a cute bartender with pink hair and ordered some shots. “This is going to be a good night.”
“Yeah.” I scanned the place.
Karan studied the dance floor like a scientist analyzed a sample under a microscope. Tonight, there would be no hope for any woman that caught his attention.
The pink-haired bartender put our shots in front of us. “Have fun, guys.”
“We’ll try.” I swallowed the fiery sensation of rum down my throat.
Karan grabbed his and finished in seconds. “I’ll be right back. I think I see my lucky lady over there.”
He headed off before I could throw out a smart remark.
“The women are looking insane tonight.” Tyson finished his shot and signaled for another. “I’m trying to take as many as I can home with me. I need the relief. These bills are fucking killing me, man.”
Tyson didn’t have the family money like Karan and me. His grandmother had raised him. His father was in jail and he never talked about his mother. Regardless, I had met his grandmother and considered her family.
I looked at him. “Are you going to ask Nana for money?”
He averted his gaze from me. “I might. I don’t want to stress her out. Nana has given me so much already. I have no idea where she gets it from, but she says she’s not hurting.”
I helped Tyson when I could without making it a strain in our friendship. He never wanted to take money from me. He said he thought it would make him less than a man, so I secretly sent his grandmother money and she would give it to him.
“How much do you need?” I asked, trying to decide how big of a check I would write to Nana.
“So much, I don’t even want to talk about it.”
“I have your back anytime you need it.”
“Of course, but I’ll keep you as the emergency plan, man.”
“Okay.” I left it alone, knowing that it would be fine.
“Damn, look at her.” Tyson gestured to the club’s front entrance.
Two women walked in. I didn’t know which one Tyson was referring to, but I’d found the one I wanted to take home that night.
That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.
It had to be her. I smiled at what had caught my eye. It was her shirt. Sure, there was no mistaking that she was beautiful. Lush, brown skin. High cheek bones. Curves for days. She wore her hair in a sexy style. Immediately, I wanted to mess up those strands.
But again, none of that sparked my interest.
She’s a fan.
It was the geeky Kingmaker shirt, form-fitting pants, and heels. Classic tomboy sexy. I could’ve fucked her right there in the club. She had a mouth that was built for naughty, dirty things.
My cock jerked in anticipation.
Every other woman in the club had on tight dresses or pants, super high heels or some torturous-looking sandals. She wore jeans and heels.
And that shirt, it had me salivating.
Mulligan’s crown decorated her shirt. He’d been my favorite character to date. Whenever a new book in the Kingmaker series came out, I stood outside the bookstore before it opened and waited. And even crazier, others did too. Sometimes they packed the blocks and had lines going down the streets.
She turned around as if calling over her friend. I grinned at the image on the back of her shirt.
Mulligan’s fierce face greeted me. He had copper colored skin and green eyes. His thick dreads hung down his face and were beaded with gold at the tips. His chest was bare, showing off the scarred lines he’d cut into his chest himself, tallying every person he killed.
I’m going to fuck her in that shirt tonight.
Turning back around,
Miss Kingmaker lifted her head my way
and in that moment,
our eyes met.
I swore to God there was a spark—something hot and intense merging between us.