Resisting Mr. Rich (The Men Series Book 8)
Resisting Mr. Rich: Chapter 24

“MAYBE I NEED A new recorder as well as earbuds,” I groan into my margarita as Chloe listens to Nate’s voice for the millionth time with a dopey grin on her face.

“I think you need your ears tested. He sounds dreamy.”

I frown and stuff the recorder back into my purse.

“He is dreamy. Insanely charming and good-looking in real life. Just like we knew he would be,” I huff as I lift my cocktail and take a sip. I barely register the sting of alcohol after four, no, five cocktails.

We’ve been to a couple of bars and have ended in a new nightclub in Chelsea. Any other night and I’d be excited by the caliber of good-looking men lining the bar, and the thrum of bodies swaying on the central dancefloor to the deep bass of the music. But tonight, I’m struggling to gather enough enthusiasm for anything. Even swallowing my cocktail seems like a chore.

Chloe reaches over and plucks my glass from my hand, sniffing at the yellowy green liquid before tasting it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking. And it’s as I suspected.” She hands my glass back and relaxes against the back of the nightclub booth.

“What is?” I ask, sensing she’s about to share one of her outlandish theories.

She has one on everything, from Area 51 secretly harboring alien life forms in cryo-pods to Henry Cavill actually being a cyborg—because no real man could ever be that perfect.

I drink more of my margarita.

“You want him.”

“I don’t.” I wrinkle my nose, the truth easily falling from my lips. “He’s nice and I enjoyed interviewing him, it’s definitely a career highlight. But I felt no attraction to him whatsoever.”

“Not Nate.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “Logan.”

I spray the liquid out, coughing. Chloe grabs a napkin and hands it to me.

“Shocker, eh?” She smirks as I dry my lips.

“Oh my god. Don’t. I wish I’d never told you about Italy. A bit of okay sex doesn’t mean anything.”

I ball up the napkin and throw it down on the table before crossing my arms. This’ll teach me for not keeping my mouth shut. But Chloe was there at my apartment when Logan dropped me off. And it slipped out. I tell her everything. A fact I’m now bitterly regretting as her smirk grows, only serving as a reminder of the man I’d rather not discuss.

“Great sex.”

“Huh?”

Her smirk stretches. “You said great sex.”

I frown, then cast my eyes around the club, sulking. “I doubt I used that word.”

“‘Great sex, Chloe. The man is hung, Chloe. I came so hard I saw stars, Chloe. But I still hate him, Chloe, I promise.’”

She smiles sweetly as I turn back to her with a glare. “That was the jetlag talking.”

“From Italy? Please. They’re like one hour ahead.”

I knock back the rest of my drink. “I don’t want Logan. I never have. I don’t even like him most of the time.”

“Most?” Chloe lifts one brow.

“All of the time,” I add. “I don’t like him all of the time.”

“And you especially don’t like him kissing the woman his dad wants him to marry.”

I seethe as she challenges my gaze without flinching.

“I didn’t call you to get drunk with me so you could lecture me about things that aren’t even true.” I look at the crowded bar. It will take ages to get another drink. The thought has pissed off energy swirling through my body. “Let’s dance.” I grab her hand and pull her up with me as I sling my purse strap over my arm.

“Sounds good to me.” She grins, looking at something behind me. I turn and spot the two guys on the dancefloor that have caught her attention. Both tall and broad, shirts snug around their biceps. “I’ll have the blond,” Chloe says as she leads me in their direction. “The other one looks more your type.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but she ignores me and maneuvers us closer to them on the dancefloor, until I bump into the blond’s friend.

Sorry, I mouth, looking up into green eyes.

He smiles, dimples popping in his cheeks as he pushes his light brown hair back from his eyes. It’s longer than Logan’s. And his eyes are a gray green, not an electric emerald like Logan’s.

Damn it. Why am I thinking about him?

Chloe winks at me from her position in the blond’s arms as she grinds against him to the music. That girl does not waste time.

I turn back to the guy in front of me. He’s still smiling. It’s not his fault my friend has thrown me at him with all the subtlety of a tornado.

“I’m Maddy,” I shout above the loud music.

“Kent,” he shouts back.

“And your friend is—?”

I glance at the other guy, who Chloe is now climbing like a tree, her arms wrapped around his neck as she grinds against one of his thick thighs.

“What was that?” Kent asks as I turn back.

I open my mouth and then close it again. It’s useless trying to talk. The music is almost deafening. The song rolls into another, eliciting an excited cheer from the crowd of dancers. I’m swept along and thrown up against Kent’s hard body as the crowd swells and everyone’s dancing notches up a level.

His hands slide down my sides, gripping onto my hips as I roll them in a figure of eight to the music. He pulls me closer to him so we’re moving together, heat from our bodies mingling as a bead of sweat runs down between my breasts.

Kent’s hands flex on my hips. “You’re real fucking sexy, Maddy,” he murmurs in my ear, pulling me closer.

Chloe is smiling at me from her position in the guy’s arms. His lips are on her neck, and she giggles at something he says, then turns and pulls his lips to hers for a kiss.

Kent spins me in his arms and gives me a sexy smile, his gaze dropping to my lips. I spin back around before he can kiss me, and he chuckles in my ear as he grasps my hips and pulls me back against his chest.

“You like to tease, baby?”

My lack of answer only feeds his interest, and he grinds his erection against my ass cheeks, his mouth dropping to my neck and kissing it.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I close my eyes briefly. Kent’s lips are the right mix of soft and urgent against my skin. But it’s not them that have my senses heightened like I’m in a glass box being watched.

I open my eyes, searching the packed dance floor.

Kent chuckles in my ear. “Fuck, baby. You can move. I’d like to see what else you can do with these hips.” He squeezes them, curling his fingers forward so they stretch closer to the inner crease of my thighs.

“You want to come back to my place and show me?” he groans at the exact same time I lock eyes with two green flames across the room, looking like they’re about to rain hell on earth.