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CHAPTER SEVEN

Becca

He’s so freaking cocky. And handsome. And fun. And… and… and. Stop.

I practically ogle John’s strong forearms as the muscles change positions when he tips his drink in my direction and says, “To my old friends and reminiscing. To making new memories and for some of us, new beginnings.”

A fresh start is what I want, but it’s been equally depressing. Stay in a loveless, sexless marriage or be divorced and still go without love or sex.

After dinner and the show, the couples disperse into different directions to either catch up on sleep or on loving. Most of our friends have children and have to sneak in their sexy times, so who could blame them.

The only four people left are Corbin, Oakley, John, and me.

“The bartender suggested a nightclub, The Coral Rhythm. Anyone up for it?” John throws out the idea, but the moment he says it, I notice he looks at me, searching for a reaction.

My heart flips, and I’m convinced he has eyes that can see through skin like an x-ray machine.

“Nah, Oakley and I need to get to bed,” Corbin says .

Oakley tugs on his arm, presses on her toes, and begs, “Come on. Let’s go dance.”

“Sure, I can’t resist my little thief. Besides, what are vacations for?”

“Letting loose,” Oakley says with pure excitement in her voice.

I’m super conscious of John’s proximity. He leans in a little closer, voice lowering just for me. “You’ll come, right, Becca?”

There’s something expectant in his eyes, and it sends this weird electric thrill through me—a mix of nerves and hope. I want to say yes so badly, but I hesitate for a second, pretending to check my phone, worried it’ll be obvious how much I want to spend time with him.

“Becca?” Oakley grabs my attention.

“Oh, umm…” Oakley lifts a brow. We’ve talked about the relationship between John and me.

My effervescent sister-in-law is aware that I have feelings for him beyond friendship, but I could never let myself go there.

She promised that Corbin would be happy for me.

But she also said, “If John did anything to hurt you, Corbin would kill him.”

My marriage to Dennis is a prime example that love doesn’t always work out, and I never want to come between John and Corbin.

“Sis, we won’t stay long.”

I need to quit worrying about everything and just live in the moment. “I’m in.”

“Stick with me, Bex. I’ll show you my moves,” John says under his breath, and I swear I stop breathing. When did I become a sixteen-year-old girl?

I’ll tell you when:

Anytime John Basilio speaks directly to me.

Anytime he teases me with his knowing smile.

Anytime he insinuates that he wants more.

A bouncer sits on a stool holding a rope in an open pavilion where clubbers wait in hopes they’ll get in. Reggae music drifts lazily through the open air.

“I’ll tell the bouncer who we are,” John says.

“I’m pretty sure they don’t watch hockey on the islands.”

John’s eyes narrow. “Baby, don’t underestimate me.”

Baby?

I lay my hands on his arms. “If it was a girl bouncer, you would have a better chance.” Then I give him a gentle push toward the bouncer. He stumbles at first, then straightens as he approaches the large, buff man. I look at Oakley. “He’s too cocky for his own good.”

“Maybe he has the goods.” Oakley elbows me, grinning ear to ear.

John shakes his head on the way back to us. “Are we in?” Corbin asks.

“There are no VIP areas available.”

“I want to dance, not sit around.” I make a beeline for the man guarding the door. Glancing at his name tag, I ask, “Abasi, can my friends and I just come in? We don’t need a VIP area.”

“Anything for you, lovely lady.” His deep voice and large body don’t match the warmth and easiness in his eyes. He’s a teddy bear.

“Have you ever heard of the Dallas Rattlers?” I ask, knowing he hasn’t.

“No, but it’s obvious he’s an athlete when he has someone like you on his arm.”

“You’re a smooth talker, Abasi.”

His mahogany skin warms with a pinch of pink in his cheeks. Abasi smiles, stands up, and waves to the rest of my party. He slaps green wristbands on us. “This will get you a cozy couch. Not VIP, but a good place to rest your feet and hydrate. Have fun, my lovely little lady.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door, closing it behind us.

We stride through a narrow tunnel-like walkway.

Distant music thumps against the walls in the Coral Rhythm, and John’s hand presses against my back.

This simple gesture has a swarm of bees buzzing in my stomach.

Or maybe it’s the music. Yeah, I’ll go with that—it’s the music.

We weave through the crowd and make our way to the edge of the dance floor. Freestyle is the only way to describe the dancing that takes place inside this nightclub—feet shuffle, arms lift, and hands make shapes in the air.

The electricity crackles. The music drowns out the voices, even Oakley’s as she screams in excitement, turning to Corbin. Since they’re wrapped together, John slips his hand in mine, spinning me into him.

He’s looking down at me, but I close my eyes, letting the sound guide me.

With every brush of his body against mine, my skin sizzles.

Our hips and shoulders hit the hard beats.

I feel so alive. Suddenly, John’s hands grab my hips and swivel me around with my back to his chest. He yells in my ear, but it’s more like a whisper, “Do you want to be bad tonight?”

Yes.

My weight melts into him before I realize that I can’t. My brother. His relationship with my brother. I straighten and say, “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No, but thanks for the offer,” I say playfully while looking into his eyes that are dancing in amusement.

“I’ll wear you down, Bex.”

“You can try.”

I’m a mess, unsure of what I want in life. I’ve lost my compass, Mamaw. Recollecting her words that I need a beer-drinking, hell-raising man. I wouldn’t describe John exactly in those terms, but he’s one who revels in life’s little things.

“Challenge accepted.” He suppresses a laugh, but the upward curve of his lips gives him away.

Oakley grabs my hands, and the four of us dance in a small circle. The space between us contracts as more people step onto the flickering neon floor. I lift my hair from the back of my neck. “God, I’m so hot.”

“What?” Corbin yells.

I wasn’t this hot on the beach under the scorching sun. Sweat beads around my hairline, and I feel it traveling down my spine. I hold my hair off my neck with one hand and fan my face with the other, but it doesn’t help, the overwhelming wave of heat hits me.

“I… I…”

Without warning, the pulsing music and the crowd of clubbers seem hazy and undefined. When I open my lids, I’m nowhere near the flashing colors lighting up the dance floor. Instead, I’m lying on a cushy couch with John hovering over me.

His flirtatious grin is muted now, replaced by a soft smile, no longer tossing around his cocky comments that make my belly churn in ways it’s not used to. John’s lingering glances are now focused on me. His brashness is gone, replaced with genuine concern.

“Here. Drink up,” he says, handing me a chilled glass.

My lips burn as the heat meets the cold sting of club soda. His focus never wavers from my face, even when he pushes my hair back from my face. It’s almost the opposite way he observed me on the dance floor, where every move was a dare and every glance a challenge.

The gentle brush of his fingertips skim across my face, and I’m only getting hotter—reaching my boiling point. Before I can grab him and pull him close, he pushes air through his lips, attempting to cool me off like the gentle breeze of the ocean.

“You’re burning up,” he utters, nearly inaudible. “Corbin and Oakley went to get you a wet cloth from the bar.” My pulse pops erratically when his fingers linger around my face. With a sinful glint in his eyes, he asks, “Did you think you could outlast me out there?”

I manage a faint, broken chuckle.

His face moves in slow motion toward me. “I’ll cool you off,” he says, his voice low and softened by the smile he’s trying to hide.

My only defense is to defend like I’m in a court of law. Question him. “Is that what you want? To cool me off?”

He swipes his forefinger slowly over his plump bottom lip. “Hmm. That’s a trick question.”

Exactly. That’s what I was trained to do—question and confuse.

Even though the music bounces off the walls, all I hear is the hush of unspoken feelings. My heart beats wildly, overtaking the quiet, and I can’t tell if I’m hot from dancing or from the way his gaze never wavers, looking at me as if he’s already won.