He was laughing. It was obvious he found it all highly entertaining.
“And he did such a thing for what reason?” Not that she had any designs on the other men, but the fact that he would do so irked her feminine pride.
“Virgins are endangered species,” he lowered his voice, though it still vibrated with laughter.
“Virgin?” She threw back the rest of her drink before smacking it back to the bar. “I would have never guessed Ian was a virgin. My, my, who was that I saw f**king the housemaids while he stayed on the estate? I should discuss this with him. Rumors can be so cruel.”
Chuckles echoed through the room.
“I gather the virgin isn’t you?” He sat back in his stool, watching her intently as his hand drummed idly, silently against the bar.
Slowly, she spread her arms, well aware of the wickedness of the outfit and the soft sheen of silky bare flesh.
“I hardly think so.” She smiled slowly. “Virginity is such a chore. One is never allowed to have any fun when her daddy believes such a heinous thing. But, when Daddy is happy, life is much better.”
“So what Daddy doesn’t know, doesn’t affect the little non-virgin’s life?” he asked with a hint of mockery.
“Exactly.” She shot Thom a disgruntled look as she turned from Cole. “You are not a very effective bartender. My glass is still empty.”
Thom looked to Cole, as though asking permission. What happened to Trojans being dominant, alpha, take-charge men? She was about to become very disappointed in them.
Courtney barely restrained her exasperated sigh.
“My glass is empty, Thom,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, and Ian’s most likely on his way,” he grunted. “You’ve had your limit, ma’am.”
She would have pouted if she thought it would do her any good. Instead, she allowed a small smile to cross her lips, the one that should have warned him that her day was coming.
“Fine. Ian has a perfectly outfitted bar upstairs. I merely assumed the company was much more interesting here. I heard the Trojans were a bit more adventurous than it appears they are.”
“Being adventurous and having a death wish are two different things,” Cole reminded her as she stood from the stool and stepped down from the small dais the bar sat upon before turning for the door.
She watched suspiciously as one of the men at the table closest to her pushed his bottle of whisky across the table in invitation. He lounged back in his chair, lazily relaxed, his black eyes curious as he watched her.
Now there was one willing to break the rules, she thought admiringly. It was too bad that for this first confrontation with Ian, it was much better that no other males be involved.
Too bad Thom and Cole weren’t as forthright.
What had ever made her think that the men in his club would dare go against Ian’s orders? He was as dangerous to cross as her father was, and she knew it. What was it about her that she seemed surrounded by overprotective males? Did she seem so innocent? She didn’t feel innocent. She felt frustrated and on edge and purely pissed that the only emotion she seemed to be able to inspire in Ian was his blasted protectiveness.
She ignored the silent offer of the whisky. It wasn’t the drink she wanted. She turned and headed for the closed double doors, intent on perhaps trying a different venue to tempt her prey. There had to be a way. As she took her first step, the doors were flung open with a controlled, subtle display of power and anger. They didn’t bounce against the wall, but the crack of wood meeting wood echoed around the room.
And there was Ian.
She drew in a deep breath, fighting to ignore the gut punch of arousal that suddenly clenched the muscles of her belly and left her fighting for breath. She could feel tiny, invisible fingers of sensation chasing over her flesh, tightening on her br**sts until they became swollen, her ni**les tight and hot.
He wasn’t exactly handsome, not as Cole was. He looked like he would be more comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt than the silk slacks and white Egyptian cotton shirt he wore. His long, dark brown hair fell below his shirt collar, tied back at the nape of his neck, giving him a reckless, dangerous appearance right off.
His blue eyes were narrowed, glittering angrily behind those generously lashed eyelids. She felt her pu**y convulse, her cream immediately preparing her for him. Her cl*t became engorged, throbbing heatedly as she caught his gaze and saw, for the briefest moment, a wild, burning surge of arousal.
This what she wanted. This was the Ian she fantasized about. Now, what the hell was she supposed to do?
Chapter Two
Instantly. In a second, Ian’s dick was steel-hard and throbbing with a lust he had never imagined possible. He could feel hunger pulsing in every pore of his skin, his body tightening, his mouth watering for the taste of her.
Masses of long, dark hair flowing nearly to her hips, framing a delicate, aristocratic face, wide dark eyes, high cheekbones, lips that trembled. She didn’t wear so much as a speck of makeup, but he’d be damned if she needed it. The fresh, natural innocence that glowed beneath her flesh gave her an ethereal, sensual beauty that had his loins tied in so many knots he wondered how he was breathing.
And there she stood, in the middle of his club, her ni**les poking against the white fabric of her snug top, her dark brown eyes partially covered by lowered lids but shining, as though some inner light brightened the beautiful orbs. Surrounding her were nearly a dozen of the most dominant men to possess membership in the club. Not counting the married Cole.
Khalid, the half-Saudi illegitimate son of a sheik watched her from a table nearby. His black eyes were na**d with lust, his expression curious, as the sexual tension seemed to shoot sky-high within the room. Fueled by the center of attention, the delicate little morsel dressed like a dream, and obviously, heatedly, unashamedly aroused.
She was what they all dreamed of. Unabashedly aware of her surroundings and the men watching her, aroused, eager to be touched. And yes she was eager. It glittered in her eyes, just as the pebble-hard tips of her br**sts proclaimed it. She would give to him. She would scream for him and beg for more. She would fight him when he needed it, give in eagerly when he hungered for it.
She would destroy him.
Ian forced himself to pull the fragmented remains of his anger around him. Nothing was going to ease the hard-on pounding between his thighs, but maybe, if he was very, very lucky, he could control a situation that threatened his sanity.