Page 35 of Finley
“Two weeks ago. I heard about it through a friend then looked it up online. They had a few videos posted, and, well, they wereextremelyenticing.”
I bet they were,Brantley thought as his eyes tracked over the leather, spandex, sequins, and glitter that men ranging in all ages had either poured themselves into, sprayed on their bodies, or had a friend buckle them up in. All to impress a stranger they no doubt hoped to meet inside. A similar wish he was hoping to fulfill, as he looked down at his jeans and his black shirt.
“Let’s just say the ‘dancers’ were enough to get me out here in this sauna dressed in my leather. So trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
He had no doubt. Plus, it’d been way too long since he’d hooked up, and he was starting to think it was affecting his brain, because all that seemed to be on his mind lately was his student. Daniel Finley.
“Your only mission tonight,” Jordan said, “is to forget you work as a stuffy professor during the week. Tonight, you shall be…hmm. What’s sexy and less nerdy?”
“Excuse me,” Brantley said. “I happen to think being well educatedissexy.”
“Of courseyoudo,” Jordan said. “But you’re not here to pickyouup, are you? Some hot stud who is ready to grind you to a brain-melting orgasm is going to think a…doctoris much hotter.”
Brantley rolled his eyes as they shuffled up the line. When they finally got to the door and the—Jesus, that guy is massive—bouncer in black jeans and a tight black shirt flashed a slow grin his way, Brantley waited for his body to react.
And…nothing.
Damn it.
He let them pass the red rope, and as Brantley stepped inside the door and the thumping beat of the music blasted his eardrums, he shouted over his shoulder to Jordan, “Hedidn’t seem to mind this nerdy professor!”
“You didn’t say anything. That doesn’t count. Now, get moving,doctor.”
Brantley’s eyes slowly adjusted to the inviting darkness that beckoned him like a sinful invitation. Through the haze of a periodic smoke machine, strobe lights pulsated in time to the heavy throb pounding throughout the massive club.
He swept his gaze over the gyrating bodies spread out before him, and when Jordan finally came to a stop by his side, Brantley looked at him and grinned.
Yes,this was exactly what he needed. A night to lose himself in music, booze, and hot, hot guys. Or should he sayboyz.
Jordan indicated that he was heading to the bar, and Brantley followed, his eyes tracking over the half-naked men bumping and grinding on the dance floor. He found that he couldn’t wait to get out there—but maybe after a couple of shots.
As they made their way up to the packed bar, he spotted two of the “dancers” Jordan had been referring to walking over to the tall tables off to the left of the dance floor. They were clad in the tightest, whitest boy shorts he had ever seen. Actually, they looked as if they’d been painted on, and he figured there must be a God, because that wasallthey were wearing.
Yeah. Okay, it’s been way too long since I’ve done this,he thought.
It was the exact place he could find a hot body to dance up on and maybe even make out with. But that was all. That was where it would stop. His time of participating in one-night stands were long behind him, and his job was way too important for any kind of scandal—no matter how hot it might be—to come back and bite him in the ass. Both literally and figuratively.
He tore his eyes off the dance floor, and as he rounded back to search for Jordan, his eyes landed on one of the dancers bending over the bar, talking to the tatted-up bartender. The guy was chuckling at something the dancer had just said, and Brantley found himself admiring all the skin that he could see.
Not only did the dancer have long, leanly muscled legs, which were a turn-on all on their own, but his white shorts were outlining one hell of an ass. What really was doing it for Brantley, though—whatreallyhad his attention—was the broad back, the naked stretch of skin displayed above those tiny shorts, and the blond ponytail tied at the nape of his neck.
It seemed he’d developed quite the fixation.Good thing I live in surfer city.
He’d just taken a step closer, wanting to see the man’s face, when the dancer straightened up and turned around. That was when his feet came to an abrupt fucking stop, because the man standing in front of him was none other than Daniel goddamn Finley.
It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was to see him, butshockingwas the only word that was coming to mind. Along withholy mother of God.The guy was practically naked, and as that little factoid hit Brantley’s brain along with the reaction his dick was having to the cocky expression crossing his student’s face, Brantley could do nothing. His feet, it seemed, had forgotten how to move.
Daniel, apparently, wasn’t having the same problem. He sauntered forward, stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder, and greeted him.
“Evening, Professor Hayes. Looking good.”
Keep your eyes on his face,Brantley ordered himself as he angled his head up and saw Daniel’s lips twitching.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Daniel bent down, and Brantley instructed himself not to flinch.Don’t give him the upper hand. Don’t move, Hayes.But when Daniel put his mouth by his ear, Brantley had a hard time not reaching for him.
“It’s Finn,” Daniel breathed.