Page 11 of His Kidnapped Queen
That was kind of the way it went.
I didn’t do relationships, so one night stands were the only way I got any relief.
“Well, this is certainly one way to get attention,” I drawl as I wiggle my ass to make sure the dress won’t ride up while I dance.
Scott, dressed in a black silk shirt and tailored gray slacks, gives me a big smile.
“Derek is coming.”
I groan. “Not Derek.TheDerek? The one with the…” I pause to demonstrate that Derek is gifted, moving my hands out to show a ridiculously long length.
“One and the same,” Scott says smugly.
I shake my head. “You’re more likely to get laid than I am.”
He sighs. “Yeah, sure, but I don’t just want to get laid. I’m not like you, Sophia.”
I frown. “Not like me?”
“Not in a bad way,” he says quickly, eyes widening as he takes my hands in his own. “It’s just that…you do it for release. I want more. I want love and happiness.”
I squeeze his hands before dropping them, sliding my feet into a pair of black stilettos.
I wobble at first, but quickly muscle memory kicks in. I love heels and I’d worn them a lot in college.
Scott leads the way to our car, and the rideshare service takes us to a local club.
It’s early, so everyone hasn’t trailed in yet and Scott and I grab a seat at the bar.
“It’s dead,” Scott whines.
“Only because it’s early,” I reassure him, ordering us a round of tequila shots and a margarita each.
We take the shots with a grimace, and I suck down my margarita, needing a buzz for courage. The alcohol warms my throat, but I don’t get the blur around my thoughts I’m wanting.
I’m on the precipice of ordering another drink when I catch sight of the silver fox I’d locked eyes with back at the precinct.
Fuck, his eyes are green. Sea-green, like the ocean, like seaweed, like something that could wrap around me and hold me close and never let me go.
I blink, shaking my head.
Why am I suddenly thinking in metaphors?
He’s hot, that’s for sure.
The profile of his Roman nose, his sharp jaw, the dimples in his cheeks when he gives the bartender the barest of smiles.
A guy like that would never look twice at me, anyway.
I’m attractive but I’m no supermodel.
Guys like that have blonde twigs by their sides.
I turn to speak to Scott but realize he’s otherwise occupied, leaned over close and talking to a dark-haired man who I assume is Derek, his flame of the week.
I pout and swivel around on my chair only to find myself eye to eye with the belt buckle of said silver fox.
I swallow hard, trying not to find the line of his cock in his perfectly tailored black slacks.
