"Thanks," I said, shrugging it on as I scrambled to my feet. "Can I get you, erm...anything? A drink?"
"I..." He hesitated, his dark brown eyes studying me for a moment. "Thanks, but no. I should probably go."
"Oh. All right," I replied, a little surprised by the disappointment I felt over him leaving.
I followed him, fumbling with the belt on my robe. Once we'd reached the door, his gaze traveled down my body and lingered on my exposed thighs.
"Damn," he whispered, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and placing a hand on either side of my hips. "I want to thank you."
"For what?"
"For rocking my world."
I bit back a smile as heat rushed to my cheeks. I'd just had the exact same thought.
"I'm pretty sure it was the other way around."
"So, how do we do this?" He drew me close, pressing my front to his. My nipples grew hard against his body, the thin robe providing almost no barrier.
"Do what?" I'd asked without thinking, my state of arousal leaving me empty-headed.
"How do I see you again?"
"Again?" I blinked several times. Again wasn't something I'd even considered. Wait, I really could do that with him again? And again? My body begged for a repeat, but my stupid brain was fucking it up for everyone. My life was in shambles. The last thing I needed was—
"Hey, it's okay." He backed away, my nipples aching over the loss of contact. "Forget I asked.
" He rubbed a hand through his messy hair, his eyes going back to my bare thighs.
"I..." I looked away, trying to find words that didn't make my life sound like the shit show it really was. "I think you are...I mean, this whole night was...wow. I just can't right now. I'm sorry, Br—um..." I was drawing a total blank. I'd just had the hottest night of my life with the sexiest man I'd ever met. I knew he had a tiny birthmark on his left hip. That he liked when I bit down on his neck with just the right amount of pressure. I could even remember how the hard muscles in his back flexed and released under my fingers with each thrust. The one, and probably the most significant, detail I should have been able to recall was his name.
"Brandon," he said, thankfully putting me out of my misery. "But everyone calls me Brando."
"I'm probably coming off as a shitty person right now. Things are"—I paused, crossing my arms over my chest—"messy for me right now. I was having a bad night and really needed a... friend." I lifted my gaze. "Thank you for that."
"A friend, huh?" Brando snorted, then pulled the door open. He gently reached up and ran a finger down my cheek. "Good night, Carina."
My eyelids fluttered closed just as they did before, savoring the feel of his skin on mine one last time. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.
****
Brando
I couldn't sleep. No matter how much I tried to relax, my brain wouldn't shut off. After a performance like that, I should have been exhausted. So satisfyingly spent that I could sleep until the afternoon. Instead, I replayed it all in my head. Every eye roll, every laugh, the sexy sway of her hips as she danced, and her soft moans each time I made her come.
Friend? She actually called me her fuckin' friend.
My thoughts traveled back to B.C....before Carina.
I'd been nursing a beer for twenty minutes and watching the game. My roommate had a house full of people, which meant home was the last place I wanted to be. I came up to Catch because I knew the owner, Hal, would have the playoffs on the big screen.
The door swung open, and a stunning redhead walked inside. I knew right away it was the new girl, Carina. She looked a lot different out of uniform. The Annette's Catch standard issue T-shirt and shorts had been replaced with a little black skirt and low-cut top that displayed perfectly plump breasts. A total knockout with legs for days. She took a seat at the end of the bar, made small talk with Hal, then ordered a drink. Her long hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back. The bright lights above cascaded over her, creating a soft glow.
Carina was by far the most exciting person in the room, and I wasn't the only one to notice. Before she even had time to take the first sip of her drink, the barstool beside her was suddenly occupied by the same idiot who had been trying for the last hour to get someone, anyone, from the drunken "girls' trip" table to leave with him. The minute that guy started talking, I wanted nothing more than to grab him by his goatee and toss his ass outside, but then I would have been locked up during the playoffs...again.
I raised my arms into a long, exaggerated stretch. Carina's eyes kept flickering my way, and I knew I was on her radar. Hal came over to discuss the game, and I went through the appropriate motions, nodding my head and commenting when necessary. The truth was, my thoughts were on Carina. Dude kept running his mouth while she sipped something reddish from a martini glass. She pulled a face every time she swallowed, clearly not enjoying the fancy drink. She downed the last of that glass then ordered another, all the while looking unimpressed with her company. Sir Talks-A-Lot eventually realized he wasn't going to close the deal and went back to the "girls' trip" table. Before someone else could beat me to her, I was on my feet and moving.
"What are you drinking?" I asked, sliding onto the stool beside her. She turned her head with the tiny straw still in her mouth and rolled her eyes.