and landed on my ribcage. A pair of unnaturally firm breasts pressed into my back. "Babe, I haven't seen those amber eyes in forever. It's been way too long." The familiar voice was enough to make my balls shrivel.
Fuck. Just what I need.
I took a steadying breath and turned, a fake smile plastered on my face. "Jessica, how are you?" I politely asked as I took a step back to separate myself. I wasn't at all interested in how she was doing as I looked toward Spencer and Brant in desperation, hoping that one of them would bail me out. Dammit, they were too busy talking to even realize I was there. I was on my own.
So much for wingmen.
She leaned into me and began running her hand up and down my chest, her long acrylic nails leaving little marks on the fabric of my shirt, working their way lower with each pass. She was talking, but all I could focus on was getting the hell away from her. Our casual hook-ups had ended over a year ago, but she always forgot that after a few drinks.
We'd had fun for a while, but it fizzled out quickly, at least on my end. Her propensity for calling me 'amber eyes' was just one of the things that had eventually turned me off. Having my eyes described as 'amber' or 'amber and jade' drove me crazy. It was bad enough having to call them hazel. Always reminded me of the damn wiry-haired witch in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.
There was nothing more effective at deflating an erection than naming a part, any part, of a man's anatomy after a woman. It was just one of those things.
I interrupted her whiny reply, which included something about being terribly bored and wishing I'd call her sometime, when I apologetically said, "Work is keeping me super busy. I'm actually here for a business meeting, and I'm already late. Have a good night. Hope you find what you're looking for." I flashed a smile and backed away before she had a chance to latch on again. Feeling like someone was staring daggers into my back, which I knew damn well she was, I hurried over to the booth that was already stocked with my favorite Kentucky Bourbon.
I stalked straight over to the glasses, and after dropping in one of the clubs signature spherical ice chunks, poured myself several fingers. Wordlessly, I raised my glass in the direction of my confused friends and downed the entire thing before refilling and sinking miserably into the plush leather booth.
"Hard day, amber eyes?" Spencer joked, indicating that he'd seen Jessica accost me. He was goading me; he knew the nickname was one of the main reasons I broke things off with her. He slowly sipped his Scotch and looked at me expectantly, a sly smile on his face.
"Yeah, Clay, you never drink that fast." Brant added and focused on his nearly empty snifter of Brandy, blissfully unaware of the Jessica sighting.
He and Spencer could have passed for brothers. Both were the same height and build, roughly two or three inches shorter than me, both had dark hair. The only difference was their eyes. Brant's were a light, icy blue while Spencer's were so dark brown they looked black.
Those dark eyes paired with Spencer's dark hair made him look intimidating unless he was smiling, which he often did. I'd actually watched the security guard at our bank keeping a wary eye on him as if he gave off some kind of dangerous vibe.
I found that fucking hilarious, particularly since he was the kind-hearted one of our group.
I cut my eyes at Spencer. "So, you saw Jessica waiting to pounce and you didn't warn me? Thanks, bro."
"I didn't see her until it was too late. Sorry." He glanced over to where she stood talking to some poor bastard who had the bad fortune to stumble within reach. "She get her claws into anything important?"
"Nah. I'm used to fending her off. I just hate being cornered like that." I shrugged, eager to move on.
Spencer was shaking his head at me when the server made an appearance, taking particular interest in whether he needed anything or not. She was obviously new since
Fuck. Just what I need.
I took a steadying breath and turned, a fake smile plastered on my face. "Jessica, how are you?" I politely asked as I took a step back to separate myself. I wasn't at all interested in how she was doing as I looked toward Spencer and Brant in desperation, hoping that one of them would bail me out. Dammit, they were too busy talking to even realize I was there. I was on my own.
So much for wingmen.
She leaned into me and began running her hand up and down my chest, her long acrylic nails leaving little marks on the fabric of my shirt, working their way lower with each pass. She was talking, but all I could focus on was getting the hell away from her. Our casual hook-ups had ended over a year ago, but she always forgot that after a few drinks.
We'd had fun for a while, but it fizzled out quickly, at least on my end. Her propensity for calling me 'amber eyes' was just one of the things that had eventually turned me off. Having my eyes described as 'amber' or 'amber and jade' drove me crazy. It was bad enough having to call them hazel. Always reminded me of the damn wiry-haired witch in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons.
There was nothing more effective at deflating an erection than naming a part, any part, of a man's anatomy after a woman. It was just one of those things.
I interrupted her whiny reply, which included something about being terribly bored and wishing I'd call her sometime, when I apologetically said, "Work is keeping me super busy. I'm actually here for a business meeting, and I'm already late. Have a good night. Hope you find what you're looking for." I flashed a smile and backed away before she had a chance to latch on again. Feeling like someone was staring daggers into my back, which I knew damn well she was, I hurried over to the booth that was already stocked with my favorite Kentucky Bourbon.
I stalked straight over to the glasses, and after dropping in one of the clubs signature spherical ice chunks, poured myself several fingers. Wordlessly, I raised my glass in the direction of my confused friends and downed the entire thing before refilling and sinking miserably into the plush leather booth.
"Hard day, amber eyes?" Spencer joked, indicating that he'd seen Jessica accost me. He was goading me; he knew the nickname was one of the main reasons I broke things off with her. He slowly sipped his Scotch and looked at me expectantly, a sly smile on his face.
"Yeah, Clay, you never drink that fast." Brant added and focused on his nearly empty snifter of Brandy, blissfully unaware of the Jessica sighting.
He and Spencer could have passed for brothers. Both were the same height and build, roughly two or three inches shorter than me, both had dark hair. The only difference was their eyes. Brant's were a light, icy blue while Spencer's were so dark brown they looked black.
Those dark eyes paired with Spencer's dark hair made him look intimidating unless he was smiling, which he often did. I'd actually watched the security guard at our bank keeping a wary eye on him as if he gave off some kind of dangerous vibe.
I found that fucking hilarious, particularly since he was the kind-hearted one of our group.
I cut my eyes at Spencer. "So, you saw Jessica waiting to pounce and you didn't warn me? Thanks, bro."
"I didn't see her until it was too late. Sorry." He glanced over to where she stood talking to some poor bastard who had the bad fortune to stumble within reach. "She get her claws into anything important?"
"Nah. I'm used to fending her off. I just hate being cornered like that." I shrugged, eager to move on.
Spencer was shaking his head at me when the server made an appearance, taking particular interest in whether he needed anything or not. She was obviously new since
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