She tied the tiny straps of satin at each hip, and pulled a robe from a hook on the wall, slipping it over her shoulders and smiling a little at me. “You good?”

I returned her level stare. “Are you serious?”

She came back to me, lifting my left hand to her mouth, sliding my bare ring finger between her teeth and deeper, wrapping it in the delicate softness of her tongue. And then she released it with a wink, whispering, “I’m serious.”

My arms shook with tension, my cock pulsing from the echo of her mouth, her too-short, gentle suction. “Then no, I am not good, Chloe. Not even a little bit.”

“I am,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I feel fantastic. I hope you enjoy the rest of your bachelor party.”

I leaned back into the wall, watching her cinch the robe around her waist. My skin felt hot, itchy, feverish and the entire time she dressed she watched me, relishing my frustrated need for her.

I struggled to hide it, deciding to pretend I was fine. Yelling would only make her more pleased with herself. Cool detachment always worked best when Chloe was being a teasing bitch. But when my brow smoothed, she laughed a little, not even a little surprised.

“What are you doing after this?” I asked. For some reason it hadn’t even occurred to me what she would do when she left. Was she flying straight home?

With a shrug, she murmured, “Don’t know. Dinner. Maybe a show.”

“Wait. Are you here with someone?”

She looked at me, pursing her lips and shrugging.

“The fuck, Chloe? Are you at least going to tell me where you’re staying?”

She looked me up and down, letting her eyes linger a little longer on the fly of my pants than the rest of me before she smiled. “At a hotel.” She straightened, arching her brow before purring, “Oh, and happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Ryan.”

And with that, she stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

Two

Max Stella

Bennett Ryan looked like he was on the verge of losing his lunch and razzing all over the table.

“I’m going to pass. Lap dances aren’t really my thing.”

His brother Henry leaned forward, horrified. “How is an unfamiliar and extremely hot woman dancing on your lap not your thing? Are you warm-blooded?”

Bennett mumbled some excuse, and I couldn’t really blame him because, fuck, I wasn’t about to have some strange bird climb on my cock. But he had no idea what was waiting on him in the back. I had to get him out of that bloody chair and into the private room so we could get this night started off right.

“Bollocks,” I told him, waving to where Johnny stood, waiting near the private hallway. “This is your bachelor party, and a lappy is a requisite.”