Sucker Punched (3 page)

These are the kinds of girls I’ve avoided like the plague.

Thanks to the company I keep and the places I frequent, it hasn’t been hard. I’ve never run into a girl like her out in the wild, but it’s not hard to recognize a lady when you see one. 

She looks so. . .clean. Shiny. Wholesome.

She’s straight-up
beautiful
, and so fucking out of my league I want to cry. If this were some sappy romance novel, she’d be a duchess and I’d be the stable boy.

There’s even an air of unattainability surrounding her, and I’m not the only one who notices. Most of the guys in a fifteen-foot radius are subtly checking her out, and not a single one has had the balls to approach her. 

I can’t really blame them. She’s intimidating as fuck.

I watch her take a sip of her neon drink, her movements graceful and fluid, and when she smiles at something Savannah says, it lights up her whole face. 

I think I just fell a little bit in love with that smile. 

She looks around the room and when her eyes land on me, her smile fades. Leaning over, she whispers something to Savannah, who looks shocked to see us. I can’t tell how her friend feels. Her expression’s unreadable as she stares me down.

“Hey.” Declan stops in front of Savannah, peering down at her. “We need to talk.”

She glances at me, but I don’t have any insight to offer her. This is between the two of them.

Savannah nods. “Okay.”

She turns to her friend, who’s still watching me with a look I can’t quite decipher. Then, with a flick of her eyes down the length of my body and a simple bite of her lip, I know exactly what all that staring means. 

She wants me.

I couldn’t stop the cocky grin from spreading my lips even if I tried.

“Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?” Savannah asks her. 

Her friend nods, shooing her away. “I’m fine. Go.”

“Don’t worry, Kitten.” Declan fucking hates it when I use his nickname for Savannah, so I make sure to use it as often as possible. I’m a good brother like that. “I’ll keep your girl entertained while you’re gone.” 

Just thinking of all the ways I could “entertain” her friend has my cock stirring and my smile stretching so wide it’s likely to become permanent.

Declan smacks my chest and turns his back to the girls, glowering at me. “You lay a single finger on her, and I’ll kill you myself. Savannah’s friends are off-limits, Blake. I mean it.”

I roll my eyes at his useless warning. 

Yeah, it’d be awkward if I hooked up with Savannah’s sister. I get that. But this girl’s just a friend, not a relative. It’s not like she’ll be spending holidays with Savannah and my brother, or going on vacation with them.

Ten bucks says I’ll never see this girl again in my life.

This. Sucks.

Tonight was supposed to be a fun girls’ night out with my best friend, but she’s too heartbroken to enjoy this awesome party. Which really blows, since it’s being thrown for her mopey ass.

Okay, so technically it’s for like seventeen other girls too, but whatever. She’s still one of tonight’s stars and she should fucking
own
that shit. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 

If I had the balls to get in that ring and beat up some girl, I totally would. But I’m a pussy and the odds of me actually winning a fight are slim to no chance in hell. 

Plus, my parents would shit a brick if they found out, and—let’s be honest—they absolutely would when I came home looking like I got mugged.

“What about her?” I point to a tall redhead walking by. “Could you take her?”

Savannah laughs. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“C’mon.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “You’re supposed to be this badass fighter now. Act like one. Go over there and punch her in the tit.” 

I’m trying my best to cheer Savannah up, but I don’t have any profound words to offer. Humor’s the best I’ve got. 

Well, that and the open bar. 

We’ve been knocking back drinks like they’re water. It’s only seemed to make her sadder and more withdrawn. All it’s done for me is warm my chest and make me zero in on all the eye-candy at this party, but that’s not what tonight is about. Tonight it’s chicks before dicks, and if homegirl here wants to get shitfaced and sulk over some jackass, then it’s my sisterly duty to commiserate over fruity cocktails.

Sighing, I stand from the bench we’ve been parked on all night. “You want another one?”

Savannah nods before dejectedly watching everyone else have a good time.

I scowl and start towards the bar.

This is such a waste of a killer dress and a night off. Normally I’m waitressing these shindigs instead of attending them, so I’m not really free to enjoy myself.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad gig and it pays ridiculously well, but come on. . . These parties are overflowing with decadence and debauchery. Between the occasional celeb, the open bar, and the roster of fit fighters they rotate through these soirees, it’s basically Disneyland for adults. And on the
one
night I’m actually allowed to ride Space Mountain instead of working the turkey leg cart, I’m stuck with Debbie Downer back there.

If I ever see Declan again, I’m nut-punching him for ruining tonight—not just for me, but for Savannah. She’s worked so hard for this, and now she’s too torn up to enjoy it because of that asshat.

I want to be mad at her for it. I want to ask her what the hell she was thinking when she got involved with her boss,
especially
considering that he’s her roommate too. That seems like a recipe for disaster and—
shocker!
—it all blew up in her face.

I can’t completely fault her for it, though. She’s only human, and Declan’s hotness
is
near mythical levels. Us mere mortals don’t stand a chance. 

Still. . . You don’t shit where you eat, and the same rule applies to jobs and roommates—you should never,
ever
fuck someone you live or work with. 

That’s like Life 101.

By the time I have our drinks, I see Savannah talking with a cute guy and I perk up a little. I seriously doubt she’s going to marry him, but hey, maybe a little rebound would do her good. There are other fish in the—

Nope, she told him to fuck off.

I kind of feel bad for him. It’s got to be scary to put yourself out there like that and risk getting shot down. I’d sure as shit never be able to do it.

Handing Savannah her drink, I take my seat next to her, trying to play dumb. “Who was he? He’s cute.”

She wrinkles her nose like I’ve said something gross. “
Cute?
I don’t think so. That guy’s a troll.”

If he’s a troll, then I’ve got a bridge he can live under. . .

The thought makes me giggle-snort, and I take a sip of my cocktail. Sort of. It takes my mouth a few too many attempts to locate the straw sticking out of my drink.

Wily bastard keeps moving on me. 

I finally catch the sucker and take a deep pull of the neon liquid, absently noting that it no longer feels like I’m swallowing fire.

Savannah snatches my drink and downs the rest of it in one gulp. “I’m officially cutting you off. Your vagina will thank me for it tomorrow morning when you wake up alone.”

I’m pretty sure it
won’t
, since the most action I’ve gotten in seven months is from my battery-operated boyfriend. The amount of money I spend per month on batteries is obscene.

The struggle is real.

I glare at her for cock-blocking my future self, but really, it’s for the best. I’ve never had a one-night-stand and I probably shouldn’t start when I’ve had this much to drink.

Sighing, I try to make light of my sad state of affairs. “I don’t know, my vagina’s been pretty lonely lately. I think it’s got cobwebs.”

She chokes mid-drink and starts coughing, her eyes watering as she pounds on her chest. “Oh my god.”

I feel bad for almost making her drown in her drink, but that doesn’t stop me from laughing just a little. I’m about to ask her if she’s okay when the crowd behind her parts for Declan.

My smile instantly vanishes, but it has nothing to do with Declan and everything to do with the guy walking
next
to Declan. The one who looks so much like his twin that I have to do a double take.

Sweet Mary and Joseph
, that is one gorgeous man.

Struggling to find my voice, I sit here with my mouth hanging open like some kind of friggin’ lobotomy patient.
Fuck
. Blinking, I lean over to Savannah, lowering my voice. “Holy shit, why didn’t you tell me there were two of them?”

I’m not sure if they’re actually twins or not, but they’re definitely brothers. When they stop in front of us, Declan starts to say something to Savannah, but I’m not listening. I can’t get over how uncanny their resemblance is. 

My eyes roam over the pair, noting their subtle differences. Declan has vibrant green eyes, but his brother’s are more of a muddled green. Almost hazel. And his brother’s hair is just a bit shorter.

The most obvious difference between the two is that Declan has full sleeves of tattoos on both arms and his brother has none, from what I can see.

They’ve got the same shade of dark, inky-colored hair and the same strong jaw that looks just. . .
uhnf
. His jawline is covered with a couple days’ worth of scruff, and I can’t help but imagine what it’d feel like against my cheek, my neck, between my thighs. . .

I know what I’ll be thinking about tonight when I’m with B.O.B.

Ugh, drinking this much was a bad,
bad
idea. If sexual frustration was a fire burning my loins, then I’ve just added a shit-ton of lighter fluid.

“Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”

Savannah’s question rips me from my dirty thoughts and I wave her off, embarrassed that I’ve been staring at him this whole time. “I’m fine. Go.” 

“Don’t worry, Kitten, I’ll keep your girl entertained while you’re gone,” Not-Declan says. He’s wearing a hint of a smile so dangerously sexy and explosive that even a nun’s panties would melt. 

Fortunately for me, I’m not wearing any since I forgot to do laundry. Again.

Declan scowls and turns to whisper something to his brother, but I can’t hear anything over the music.

Savannah uses the opportunity to set our empty glasses on a nearby table. That’s when it occurs to me that I may just have an epic case of beer goggles right now.

Shit. Savannah said the last guy who hit on her was a troll, but I thought he was cute. . . Of course compared to Declan and his brother, he
was
a troll, but still.

How many drinks have I had now? Three? Four?

Damn it, it’s too hard to keep track of them when they’re free.

Declan’s brother takes Savannah’s seat. I suddenly wish she hadn’t taken my drink from me, because now I have no idea what to do with my hands.

Do I lay them in my lap?

No, that looks weird.

“What’s your name, Duchess?”

I forget all about my hand crisis as soon as I hear the words leave his mouth. His perfectly pouty, kissable mouth. 

Fuck, I’m staring again. I force my eyes back to his, struggling to remember his question. 

My name. What
is
my name? “Macy,” I finally say.

Good Lord, he smells good. Like leather with just a touch of cologne. 

“Macy.” He rolls it around his mouth, like he’s getting a taste for my name. “You got a boyfriend, Macy? Anyone that might want to kick my ass if I told you that you have the most beautiful goddamn smile I’ve ever seen?”

Waitressing these parties, I’ve heard my share of bad pickup lines. They’re usually annoying, but then again, they’re usually coming from middle-aged millionaires who think a fat checkbook is the key to getting between my legs.

Coming from
him
, a cheesy line like that is oddly charming.

“Wow.” I’m glad it’s kind of dark in here. My face is probably bright red right now. “You got some wine to go with that cheese?”

The way his smile lights up his face is truly something to behold. I bet he could rob a bank armed with just that smile.

“No, but I can get some.”

Is it just me, or did it suddenly get ten degrees hotter in here? I look over the crowd, lamenting that a
smile’s
got me so worked up. Christ on a cracker, I think if he were to actually touch me, I’d spontaneously orgasm. “I think I’ve had enough for the night. I still have to drive home.”

“Is it too early to ask if I could take you home?”

Laughing, I hold up my index finger and thumb. “Little bit.”

“Then I’ll wait till the end of the night and ask again.” His smile never fades. It’s still cocky, still slightly crooked, and still unbelievably sexy.

I have no idea why it’s directed at me, of all people, but it doesn’t stop the corners of my mouth from curling. “You’re good at this.”

I’m
not
. I’m awful at flirting. Like seriously, the worst. I clam up and get so self-conscious, and I’m afraid if I keep looking at him, I’ll melt.