Page 4 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

TWO

DON’T TEMPT ME

Drop It Low by Ester Dean there’s something about the way she moves, effortlessly sensual, even from behind, that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

A beautiful face would be a bonus to the whole package.

Her drink is almost gone, so I signal the waiter in our area and order another one of whatever she’s having, then do the same for her two friends .

“Three girls,” I tell my friends, and I grab my tonic water with lime and take a sip.

“One for each,” Abraham says, bumping Jean Luis on the shoulder and drawing a scowl.

“I don’t know, man. I think I’m good. Not feeling it.

I just…” He stops as his gaze moves from the two girls facing each other to the one on the right who just stood.

I was right—curves for day—but what we couldn’t see was how long her legs are, how her hair falls in the most perfect curls.

Jean Luis kryptonite. Looking back at him, we see he’s practically smitten, and I smirk.

“You were saying?” I goad him, smacking his shoulder and shaking him. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper. Let’s go.”

“Nah, let them come to us,” Abraham states, raising his glass as soon as the blonde gets her drink and the bartender signals her to where we’re sitting.

Our VIP booth is far enough away from the bar and the dance floor to give that secluded and mysterious feeling.

She talks to her friends, the curly haired one shaking her head, but when Black Dress stands and walks our way, they all follow.

They walk almost in sync, as if they have a common goal and they’re ready to score.

The pretty blonde smiles big at the bouncer for the VIP lounge, nodding her head our way when he asks her where she’s going.

When I nod back at him, he lets them in.

I finally drag my eyes back to the girl in the black dress, and there’s something oddly familiar about her.

I can’t really put my finger on it, but I have this weird feeling we’ve met before.

Have I fucked this woman before? Doubtful, because with a body as fine as hers, legs for miles, silky dark hair, I sure as hell would’ve remembered.

“Hello, boys,” the blonde says as she slides into the booth next to Abraham.

I keep my eyes trained on mystery girl, struggling to figure out how I know her.

She looks eerily familiar, but I can’t place her.

I for sure would remember if I slept with someone as stunning as her.

She oozes confidence with every step, and just her eyes on me make me feel more alive.

The feeling that I know her just intensifies the closer she gets to me, and it clicks right as she opens her mouth.

“Which one are you?” she asks with sass in her tone, crossing her arms over her perky breasts. Holy shit. Well I’ll be damned. Nellie Thompson has grown a hell lot.

“The hot one, of course.” I know she’s referring to whether it’s me or my twin brother, Manny.

Even though we’re identical, my skin tone is darker, and we wear our hair differently.

I don’t expect her to know how different we look now, because the last time I saw Nellie, I was twenty or twenty one, and she was still in high school.

Sixteen, maybe? I was too focused on building Zabana Enterprises with Manny, and when you’re in the middle of losing yourself in work, there’s no time to notice how beautiful your mother’s best friend’s daughter is growing up to be.

“You must be Gus, right? Full of yourself and cocky as shit.” She grabs the olive from her drink and twirls it on her tongue before sitting right across from me. Her other friend is still standing by the edge of the booth, and Jean Luis, being the gentleman he is, won’t approach her.

“That’d be me, Nellie. I would ask if you’re even old enough to be out here drinking, but Cara told me you just turned twenty-one, so I guess congratulations are in order?

” At dinner last weekend, my sister’s best friend, Cara, mentioned Nellie—her little sister—was going to be in Savannah to celebrate her birthday, but I didn’t think any of it.

Didn’t think that she would be the girl I called dibs on.

“Yes, indeed. Where’s my present?” she asks, tossing her hair back and sitting up straight.

I was indeed right—the beautiful black dress has a golden clasp right between her breasts, framing the small tattoo adorning her skin, three little vertical dots right where her borderline indecent cleavage is.

Downright perfect for her body, too. Her nipples harden under my gaze, and when she clears her throat, I look at her face and remember this is Nellie Thompson.

The last thing I should be doing is eye fucking her in this club.

“Like what you see?” she asks, her tone sultry and inviting.

Her green eyes are like vines pulling me in, and her perfect, pouty lips, covered by dark lipstick, makes desire flash behind my eyes as I imagine about how perfectly they would fit around my dick.

I hate to remind myself that this can’t happen, but I have to.