Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Desire

Instead, Matt ignored everything but the woman on the stage. The teeny bits of fabric clinging to her were as close to being naked as a person could get. Plump, round breasts—heavier than his ex’s. In fact, the overall curves on the woman on the stage were more pronounced. Matt didn’t mind, not one bit.

Long hair pooled around the dancer’s shoulders, the strands covering her breasts for a moment, then flowing out of the way like a peek-a-boo screen. He wanted to run a hand over the swell of her hip to see if the glow was from the heat of her skin or if it was a trick of the light.

He rocked in his chair, willing his dick to settle down. There was still a lot left to the evening, and hell if he’d sit there with aching balls the entire time.

He dragged his gaze back up to the dancer’s face, confusion dogging him. She wore a small half mask over her eyes. Part of her costume, he guessed, but the silver material hid enough it was impossible to get a clear focus on her features. He swore there was something familiar about her, but just couldn’t nail down what.

Then she made eye contact. Even through the mask he could tell—she was staring directly at him. His breath caught, his cock jerked. Anticipation rose. She shimmied in his direction. Daniel nudged his arm, and when one of the cousins stepped between them, blocking his view, Matt rose to his feet without thinking.

She was still looking his way—as if seeking him out. The slow curl of her lips turned them to a sinful smile that made his body ache.

“I think someone likes you,” Blake teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Think you’re the one who needs a fucking. You’ve been a bloody asshole lately. Why don’t you go say hi? Get her name and you can call her later and ask her out.”

“She’s a dancer at your party—”

“Who is staring at you as she’s leaving the stage.” Daniel pushed Matt. “I’m not telling you to jump her or anything, but dancers are allowed to have a private life. You saying you wouldn’t date a dancer?”

“Hell, that’s not it at all.” Matt didn’t give a damn as long as she was doing it of her own free will, and the group he’d contracted had a sterling reputation. “Forget it, okay? We’re here for you. All discussion of my sex life is over.”

Daniel waved a hand. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just pointing out you’re a gloomy ass and we know how to drink without supervision.”

Blake nodded toward the far door. “And there will be some serious drinking and cards happening now, since I see Jon and Leo have finally arrived. Bastards cheated the last we got together, I swear they did.”

Blake rearranged the chairs at their table, totally ignoring the noise that rose as the last dancer hit the stage. All the earlier girls strutted onto the bar room floor to mingle, but Blake and Daniel seemed oblivious to the revealing costumes and flirty glances, instead breaking out a deck of cards and greeting their friends.

Matt wished he were so happily content with a steady female that he’d be blissfully unaware of the half-naked women, especially the one in the silvery wig. He glanced around the room, pulling on his party-organizer hat, but all the cousins were suitably distracted.

The pile of gifts on the table caught his eye. Most of it was strictly for fun, but there were a few things he figured Beth would want to see. Matt grabbed the bags he’d brought with him and stuffed the gifts away for safekeeping.

It only took a moment before he stood beside the card table, staring down at his brothers and their friends. “I need your keys. I’ll stick these in your truck.”

Daniel winked as he tossed them over then turned his attention back to the game.

Matt swung across the room as quickly as he could with full hands, dodging the chaos. The party seemed to be a success, although there’d been no fistfights yet and no one was out cold on the floor.

Of course, it was still early.

He wasn’t about to haul ass all the way to the front doors and back around to the parking lot—not when he knew the short cut. Matt ducked through the side door and waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust—the long back-hall lighting just bright enough to reveal the flash of a leg disappearing into a side room.

Oh hell, this route took him past the stage backroom. An instant shot of lust smacked him upside the head as he pictured in far-too-intimate detail the dancer in the silver wig. Imagined her hair swaying as she rode him like some wild bandito, her eyes staring through that mask—he could totally go for a few games in the bedroom if he got to play them with her.

He fumbled with the bags for a moment, hesitant to go forward. Feeling stupid, he was even considering going back and all the way around, like a child scared to brave the unknown ahead of him.

Being attracted to the woman wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t . If he happened to meet her, like Blake had said, he could at least talk to her politely.

Or was he so backward around women he’d forgotten how to do that?

The energy in his limbs from the internal pep talk lasted all of ten seconds. Long enough for him to square his shoulders and stride firmly down the hall. Long enough for him to step in line with the open door of a room where a quick, almost involuntary glance revealed a mess of makeup on the counter, clothing tossed over chairs.

And the flash of nearly naked skin as the woman he’d been salivating over earlier peeled the robe off her shoulders to be his own personal temptation. He couldn’t stand there and ogle her, but he couldn’t seem to walk away either.

Matt gritted his teeth, bracing himself to take the final steps to the exit door. A feminine gasp dragged his gaze off where he’d gotten trapped—her nearly naked breasts, dammit . He retreated in a hurry, smashing into the wall behind him as he forced himself to look at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m going.”

He rushed away, slammed a shoulder against the door and escaped through the exit into the warmth of the July evening air. His heart was still pounding like a freight train after he’d put his load away.

Shit. He was beyond pathetic. Now he was freaking out innocent women. He leaned on the door to Daniel’s truck, closed his eyes and took a long slow breath through his nose, attempting to calm his body and his mind.

All he could see was the dancer’s body, and his dick got hard.

This was bullshit. So he was attracted to her. Fine. He was an adult, she was an adult. He’d probably never see her again. High on the agenda was to find some way to burn off this fever she’d begun, but it was hardly her fault and not his either. He just had to move on.

Which meant for now, making his feet take him back into the pub and the party, which was so much not what he wanted to be doing. Frustrated, he yanked the exit door open far harder than he had to and someone fell toward him. The woman’s long red hair swung in a circle as she poured out the door—she must have been about to lean on the surface to open it when he’d pulled, and now she tumbled into his arms.

He caught her before she could be hurt. The light curses rising from her lips made him smile even as the warm skin under his fingers caused other reactions. Silky heat pressed against his body. She clung to his shoulders, fingers pressed into his muscles.

“Hang on, I’ve got you.” He placed her on her feet and she shuffled away, head down as she muttered thanks in a low tone.

God, it was her. His dancer, who he was already guilty of obsessing over. She was walking away and he couldn’t stand it. “Wait.”

She stopped, face still in the shadows, almost as if she were hiding. Fuck, he was doing it again. As good as stalking a stranger.