“There,” I breathe, straightening my clothes. “You know, if I wanted a bunch of sloppy horseplay, I could have just gone to the frat house. What, don’t you know how to get a girl without literally throwing her over your shoulder?”
“Little girl, I could land you from a hundred yards off just by looking at you the right way,” he grins, leaning back against a thick tree trunk and crossing his arms. “But, in my vast experience, most girls like getting swept of their feet. Or snatched off their feet, maybe.”
“Not this girl,” I inform him.
We’re off a ways from the rollicking party, just me and him. Away from the flickering, demonic flames, he certainly looks more like a real, human man. He’s still the most handsome person I’ve seen up close, that’s for sure. But he’s still mortal, and therefore, in theory, attainable. I watch as he produces a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights up. With each drag, his sculpted features are illuminated in the darkness. And each time, I feel a tug of desire in the very center of my gut. How am I supposed to investigate this guy if I can’t stop staring at him?
“So. Logan,” he says, exhaling a blue cloud of cigarette smoke, “You’re telling me that you brought that sexy little body all the way out here, to an island overrun with criminals and playboys, because you’re not looking for a one night stand with a dangerous, experienced older guy like yours truly?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” I reply, amused by his sense of humor, despite myself. “I just don’t think there’s anything particularly sexy about getting dragged back by the hair to some dude’s man cave. I prefer to get to know a guy, first. Or at least trade more than a few grunted phrases before doing the nasty.”
He raises his scarred eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a smile. “Well, well. Looks like I was mistaken. You’re not like the girls we usually get out here, are you?” he asks, his voice lusciously low.
“Nope,” I say softly. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“Fuck no,” he says, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “I’ve been getting a little bored of whiny college girls throwing themselves at me. Too fucking easy. You seem like more of a challenge. And I happen to like a little challenge.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you,” I laugh, planting my hands on my hips. “But if you’re trying to take on this particular challenge, you’re off to a rocky start.”
My breath catches in my throat as storm clouds roll through Devlin’s dark eyes. I need to watch myself, make sure I don’t push this guy too far. Sure, he’s handsome and charming, but he also runs a gang of outlaws and criminals. I’m out on this island alone, for all intents and purposes. If something happened to me, no one would notice until it was way too late. Have to remember who I’m dealing with, here.
“You know I could stroll over to that gaggle of girls who just rolled in and land any one I wanted, right?” he challenges me, crushing the cigarette beneath the heel of his steel-toed boot. “Hell, I could snag three of them at the same time and really have myself a party.”
“But you’re not interested in the rest of the girls,” I point out, clasping my hands behind my back. “You’re interested in me.”
“You’re a fuckin’ mind reader, babe,” he grins, closing the space between us.
I back up against a wide birch trunk, flattening my back against the smooth wood. My heart beats wildly against its cage as Devlin comes closer. Unbidden, the image of him pushing me up against this tree and having his way with me springs to mind. I shake my head, dislodging the surprising image. I’m not usually one to get swept up in the heat of the moment. But then again, I’ve never encountered a moment—or a man—this hot before.
“Why don’t you tell me what it is you are looking for, if not a stiff cock and a quick fuck in the woods?” Devlin growls, planting a hand just over my shoulder. There’s barely a foot of space between us, and it takes every ounce of my concentration to form a reply.
“For starters...you mentioned a drink?” I say softly, lifting my face to his.
Devlin throws back his head and lets out a bark of laughter. Slipping his thick, corded arm around my waist, he steers me back toward the bonfire in the clearing. “Finally. Something we can both get into,” he says. “Besides, you’ll need a little lubrication before you’re ready for me.”
“Ew,” I say, punching him in the arm and biting back my smile.
As we step back out of the forest into the light of the flames, my jaw nearly hits the leafy ground. All around the fire, the girls I showed up to The Club with are sprawled across the laps of MC dudes. Gone are any inhibitions they brought to the island with them. Kari has her tongue down the throat of some guy with a blonde crew cut, Brie is straddling the grizzled man who seemed to terrify her not moments before, and Ani is topless, grinding up against the most model-esque of the MC members. It’s like all of the girls have fallen under a spell or something.
“Christ,” I mutter, “That didn’t take long.”
“This place has an...intense effect on all the people who seek it out,” Devlin says, tightening his grip on my waist. “Except for you, right?”
“You don’t seem too terribly bewitched yourself,” I reply, glancing up at him in the orange light.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he murmurs in my ear, letting his hands wander all over my body. “But it’s not The Club that’s got me reeling, babe. It’s you.”
“Sweet talk,” I grin, daring to let my fingers glance against his hard chest. “You’re making some real progress, Devlin.”
He tugs me firmly against his side, as if guarding me from the drunken, horny dudes that rove and stumble around the fire.
“Here’s the first thing you should know about me,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “I don’t do sweet talk. Perish the fucking thought.”
For the first time, I notice the rough wooden bar built into the woods before us. I examine the setup as we make our way over. At first glance, the bar is little more than a long wooden slab propped up by some hewn logs. But behind it, obscured by some foliage, stand shiny industrial fridges and tools—real state of the art equipment. Turning back toward the fire, I see that it’s not haphazard at all, but a carefully constructed blaze arranged in a well-made, carefully disguised fire pit. All of the rustic touches around this place are just for show. I wonder if the owners swap out the aesthetic for every group that rolls in here; bonfires for the bikers, infinity pools for the coddled bankers, that sort of thing.