Filthy English

Then fate stepped in.

The girl in the blue dress stood, weaved around, teetered in her high heels, and whoosh! dropped right into my arms.

Wham, bam. Score.

I hadn’t had to do a damn thing.

MUSCLED ARMS CAUGHT me without hesitation, ensuring I didn’t crash to the floor. Thank God.

“Gotcha,” his husky voice said.

My free arm snaked around my rescuer’s neck and held on. “Hi,” I breathed as I gazed up at him. “Nice catch.”

A sexy grin crossed his chiseled face. “Is your name Angel and did you fall from heaven to be with me?”

“Most likely I came from hell.”

He tossed his head back and laughed.

Cool air met my lower body. Craning my neck, I saw that my dress had ridden up to my waist, giving him a crystal-clear view of my sprawled legs and blue lace garter set. Yet another pricey garment purchased for this trip. I groaned, feeling my face redden. “Oh great, now I’ve flashed my butt to the entire place.”

“Nice knickers,” he murmured, smoothing my dress down gently and not ogling me. Point for him. But then a guy as hot as him didn’t have to resort to sneak peeks. He could probably have anyone he wanted.

“Is everyone staring at me?” I covered my face with my hands. “I hate being the center of attention.”

“Meh. A few. Some are laughing.”

I peeked through my fingers to find him smiling down at me, flashing gorgeous white teeth.

“Come on now, it’s fine. I’m teasing you. No one in this hellhole cares,” he said. “Although your shoe sailed across the room. It might have clocked someone in the head.”

I sent a wish up, hoping it was the redhead.

Using my good arm, I reared myself up and rearranged myself until I was sitting up in his lap. His head still towered over me, his hands cradling my waist to make sure I stayed in place. I estimated he was at least six-five.

“Tall guys are my favorite,” I murmured, and then bit my lip self-consciously. “And clearly I’m thinking out loud. Sorry.”

“Good thing I’m tall then.” His eyes landed on my mouth. Lingered.

I swallowed.

Now what?

You’re a bomb-ass bitch with a brain the size of Texas is what! Use it!

Maybe I could mesmerize him with my random eighties trivia or tantalize him with tales of migrating bird patterns? Whatever. I didn’t have to be beautiful to have rebound sex with whomever I wanted. Yeah.

My thoughts drifted back to that big honeymoon suite. “Um, random question here—do you like beds with rose petals scattered everywhere?”

His eyes went low and heavy. “I’d say yes.”

My eyes skated over his broad shoulders. “Great answer.”

“Hmmm, are you offering me a place to crash tonight?” His hand tightened around my waist.

I paused, thinking.

Could I go through with this?

One-night stands were not my usual. I enjoyed more cautious fun, like filling out my yearly calendar, writing life goals, and typing up spreadsheets. I had every single detail of my existence planned, right down to my future kids’ names.

And the last time I’d had a spur-of-the-moment fling, it had nearly ruined—

“What’s this?” Concern crossed his face as he noticed my wrist attached to my dress. I’d completely forgotten about it. “What’s wrong with your arm?” A warm hand cupped my elbow, his fingers then traveling to my wrist.

“I snagged my bracelet on my dress.” Another blush rose up from my neck as I recalled the spectacle I’d made. “It belonged to my grandmother—an heirloom—and was a gift from my late father for my sixteenth birthday. I’m—I’m terrified I’ll break it or ruin the dress. Knowing my luck, I’d do both.” I looked down at the diamond-studded bracelet and grimaced. “It will kill me to break it, but I guess I can always have it repaired.”

“Here, let me see it,” he said, inspecting the fabric where my hand currently dangled.

Did I notice that his face was nearly in my cleavage?

Yes, and I really didn’t care.

Did I notice that his male scent made me want to rub against him like a cat?

Yes, pet me, please. Make me purr.

“Can you slide it off?” he asked.

I willed my pulse to slow down. “No, the clasp is the part that’s stuck to the material and it’s too tight to slide off. Trust me, I spent a while trying to get it undone.” I blew out a breath. “It’s been a crazy evening.”

“Hmmm.” His lips puckered in a cute way as he leaned in closer, and I swallowed, feeling shy all over again.

He was so not my type: muscled physique, a tattoo, cocky.

But tonight I wanted revenge sex.

And here he was—Mr. Beautiful—delivered on a silver platter.

It would be a travesty to not take advantage of the opportunity, right?

Absolutely, the tequila said.

He sent me a rueful grin. “This is going to sound like a cheesy pick-up line, but if you let me put my hand down the front of your dress, I’d be able to detach the bracelet without ripping the fabric. I won’t grab your tit on purpose.” He winked boyishly. “Wanna give it a go?”

Touch the tit! Touch the tit! I cleared my throat. “Sure, that would be nice.”

With a finesse that surprised me—as if he were used to sticking his hands into ladies’ clothing—he reached down the neckline of my dress, the back of his hand pressing against my lace bra. My nipple hardened—of course—and my face grew redder. Praying the darkness of the club hid my embarrassment, I avoided his eyes and studied the dragonfly on his arm. A few tense moments later, he found where the metal was snagged and gently maneuvered it through the fabric.