Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (29 page)

Madeline kills her shot, her pebble of a nose scrunching up. “It means he’s hot, spicy,
muy caliente
. Like Jagger, he’s got swagger. Makes the ladies drool. Sets panties aflame. Gets them tingling in all the right places. That kind of crap.”

Ding . . . ding . . . ding . . . We have a winner!

Yeppers. I’m officially toasted.

She blows Lee a kiss. “But it’s nothing like the swoonworthiness my man’s got. He beats them all.”

“That’s my girl.” Smiling, Lee throws a dish towel over his shoulder. “She knows where the
real
sweetness is.”

Brock snorts. “If Ashcroft
or
Lee’s got an ounce of swagger, then I’m drowning in it.”

Ryder flips Brock the finger, a wicked smirk shuffling across his face. “Bro, you’re the cat who’s got a ghost wanting to multiply with you. At least my following has—I don’t know—a
pulse
.”

Brock rises, and with a smirk rivaling Ryder’s, he tangles his hand in mine, gently dragging me to my feet. “This fine specimen owns a pulse,” he points out, his tone thick with reverence as he pulls me into his muscled chest. Laying his fingers against the curve of my neck, he nibbles and sucks my lips, his tongue swiping their seam in soft, slow strokes. “And right now, her beautiful pulse is quickening.”

I part my lips and fall in step with his rhythm, my body aching for his touch, his drugging warmth. He licks into my mouth, his familiar taste a reprieve to my system, his increased breathing nourishment to my soul. Whistling catcalls and hoots of encouragement reach my ears, but the blood roaring through my veins buries the sound, cocooning me in a tomb of desire. My heart clatters—its strength shaking my rib cage—and the world around me vanishes as my fingers sneak into the silky caramel strands of his hair. He bites my lip, his free hand gripping my waist with complete ownership.

“And still faster,” he whispers roughly, cushioning my back against the bar as his erection prickles the flat of my midriff. “And . . . still . . . fucking . . . faster.” He trails his lips down my jaw, resting them on the hollow of my neck. “To be honest, it’s beating so fucking fast it’s scaring me.”

“Then maybe you should stop.” Ryder’s voice electrocutes the air, a conduit of hostility stabbing my ears. “I mean, if you’re afraid for her health, why fucking continue?”

Brock slowly pulls back, an entertained yet lethal sneer etching his mouth. “Yeah, bro. Maybe I should stop.”

Boos, heavy sighs, and laughter from the crowd ignite the bar as Ryder and Brock stare each other down, their eyes alight with venom, possession hardening their jaws.

Adrenaline girds my spine as Ryder’s gaze slithers over me. Though he attempts to mask his pain with a chuckle, the hurt on his beautiful face is palpable, his jealousy stripping the air from my lungs. Guilt crashes an angry wave of nausea through my gut. I take an unsteady breath, confusion tripping over the mess of emotions piled high in the dark corners of my mind.

“Lee?” Ryder calls. His gaze holds mine, the steadiness in it wrapping phantom fingers around my throat.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“I need another shot.
Now
.”

“I think you need a few.” Brock steps toward Ryder.

My heart stills, the organ stuttering to a deadly plod. But when Brock claps a hand over Ryder’s shoulder, a breath of relief rushes from my lips.

A genuine smile dusts Brock’s mouth. “I think we all could use a few. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ryder rolls his neck and pulls his gaze from mine. “Sure. Why the fuck not?”

“Come do a couple of shots with us, Ber,” Brock says, jerking his head toward me.

Both men sink onto bar stools next to each other, their demeanors eerily calm as Lee lines up six shot glasses. Hesitation flitters through me, and I gnaw on my thumbnail, my breathing increasing as debate hinders my muscles from reacting to Brock’s demand. A stone’s throw from the two men who’ve had my heart and mind warring since the day we met, I’m frozen, Super-Glued to my spot.

Urgency widens Madeline’s eyes, snapping me from my internal battle. My steps are tentative, cement weighing each one down as I bridge the distance, approaching them. A nervous smile teeters on
Madeline’s lips, and she rests a calming hand on my back. But my heart pounds anew as Brock slides his arm around my waist, positioning me between him and Ryder.

On shaky legs, my gaze shoots between what I’m positive are heaven’s visual gift to humanity. Chiseled, masculine pieces of art for all to indulge in, they’re gods in their own right, making it impossible for both sexes not to wish they could snag a taste. One minute my senses are drowning in the cool, icy blue gleam shadowing Ryder’s eyes, the next they’re hijacked by the sincere love squatting heavy across Brock’s face.

Little does the world know that each of these men—each of these simple yet complicated gifts—harbor so much more than their looks.

They’re soft, yet hard.

Sweet, yet bitter.

Perfect, yet perfectly imperfect.

Each is an inescapable mixture of everything that’s captured fragments of my dreams, nightmares, thoughts, and soul. They’ve become my reason for going on.

“Hey, sweets,” Brock croons, dragging his fingers up my spine.

Goose bumps flare my skin, the deliciousness of his touch curling through my weakened muscles. “Hey.” I sound breathless, a whisper of uncertainty stealing my voice.
What the hell is wrong with me?

I’ve never been meek with a guy. In love or not, confused or not, I care for both of these men. Their well-being is the first thing that springs into my head the second I crack open my eyes. I know I have to tread with caution—shit’s already ugly—but I’m not about to let their alpha tension bruise the rest of our night, let alone their friendship.

I’ve had many guilts in my life. I refuse to add the demise of a long-term friendship to my list.

Deciding to take control—and knowing I’m the only one who can fix this mess—I swing my hip against each of them, hoping to lighten the mood. “Lee, these boys are lightweights at best. Double
me up to four shots. It’s time to school them on how drinking’s
really
supposed to go down.”

Steadfast, Lee obeys my request, plopping two additional shot glasses in front of me.

“Mm, you love pushing it, don’t ya?” Ryder chuckles, a grin softening his face.

“Ah, she knows nothing else,” Brock agrees.

“What’s wrong, fellas?” I fling my arms around their necks and yank, cushioning their jaws against my ample C cups. “Are ya feeling . . . threatened?” I tease, a wiseass smirk plastered across my lips. “’Cause I’m smelling fear, and it reeks like shit.”

A giggle bursts from Madeline as Lee pours liquid bliss into each glass. “She’s about to take you both down. Saddle up, my brothers, and watch how it’s done.”

Before either can respond, I untangle my arms from their necks and down my quartet of shots. The leftover sting in my throat, spliced with waves of nausea, convinces me I’ve gone too far.

Yep. I’m gonna hurl.

Still, the fluidity in which I conquered the task garners me not only a round of applause from the patrons, but impressed smiles from my sexy opponents.

Following my lead, they toss back their double shots and slam their glasses onto the bar, Ryder beating Brock by a split second.

“Not bad,” Madeline appraises, clapping. “But Amber
still
outdid you guys.”

“I did. And for this, they owe me for the victory.” I smile, my brain in overdrive as I think of a proper “trophy.”

Brock rests his hands on my hips, his eyes narrowed. “I know that look, and it’s not good.”

“Be a good boy,” I say, tapping his nose. “You’ll both be fine.”

Ryder lifts an incredulous brow. “Which translates into: we’re royally fucked.”

“Maddie,” I call, jutting my chin toward Ryder. “You get him, and I’ll get Brock. I need to work off some of this alcohol.”

“Oh,
hell
no.” Ryder shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“Dance,” Madeline finishes, yanking him by the collar of his T-shirt. “We know. We know. Stop being a baby, Ashcroft. You lost. You dance.”

I laugh and thread my fingers through Brock’s, leading us through the horde of sweaty bodies and out onto the dance floor. With the band on break and a DJ taking over, I twine my hands around Brock’s neck and pull his ear down to my lips, licking along the shell as we sink into the rhythm of Usher’s “Scream.”

“Is this my punishment for losing?” Brock squeezes my ass and jacks me against his chest, his mouth finding the contour of my jaw. “If it is, I have absolutely no problem losing every time we battle it out.”

“Again,” I say, a purr biting my tone, “such a naughty boy.”

“You bring out the bad in this good boy.”

I scoff. “Yeah. Like you weren’t bad before me.”

“You got me there.” He smirks, tipping his head toward Madeline and Ryder. “Look at those two.”

I glance over my shoulder, amused at what I’m witnessing. With his collar acting like a leash, Ryder begrudgingly makes his way through the throng, a pout on his face as he and Madeline step onto the dance floor. However, his pout disappears when Madeline bends over, curls her fingers around a pole, and shakes her ass against his crotch. Seemingly more than okay with what she’s doing, a smile pops across Ryder’s face.

“
Now
you’re good?” Brock asks.

“How can I
not
be?” Ryder grips her shoulders, grinding his hips against her. “I
do
have a dick, and she just kind of woke him up.”

“Ryder!” Lee bellows from the bar, “I’m off in ten minutes, and I’m beating your ass if you fuck with my girl.”

“Bro, I’m innocent,” Ryder throws back, a shit-eating grin curling his mouth as he fists her hair. Grinding harder against her ass, he
gives it a whack and chuckles as Madeline squeals in delight. “See? It’s all her. I ain’t doing nothing she doesn’t want.”

Narrowed eyes locked on Ryder, Lee dashes into the kitchen, a cart of dirty glasses in tow.

Continuing her tease, Madeline giggles and flips up her head. “You’re asking for it, Ryder.”

“No, Madeline,
you’re
asking for it.” Ryder plucks a bottle of beer off a passing waitress’s tray. With a wink, he fishes out a couple of twenties from his jeans, handing the hearty tip to the chick. “Don’t ya think she is, beauty?”

Saucy smile in place, the redhead nods and slowly shoves a ready-made card between his lips. “If she doesn’t want it, I’ll
gladly
take it. I get off at two. Call me if things don’t work out.”

I roll my eyes as Red shimmies through the crowd, flipping Ryder one last seductive glance before she disappears around a corner.

“The nerve!” Madeline huffs with a pseudo-pout as she faces Ryder. “You’re dancing with me, but you take a number from some random chick?”

Ryder pulls the card from his mouth and tucks it into his pocket. “Sorry, Mad. A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”

“I concur,” Brock says, discreetly gliding his hand below the waistband of my skirt. Heart rate spiking, my breath slips as he moves his free hand to the small of my back, tugging me closer. “Ah, no panties. I like.”

Predatory stare locked on mine, he pushes a finger inside me, hooking my G-spot. An uncontained moan leaves my throat as my pussy spasms, stretching around his fingers.

“What are you doing?” I breathe, my head falling back as he slides in a second, then third finger.

“Why, I do believe I’m . . . finger-fucking you.” It comes out as a low growl. He catches my mouth in a hard kiss, our bodies moving against the unsuspecting crowd.

In and out, out and in, he finger-fucks me ripe, the pulsing beat of the music adding to the exoticness of his onslaught. My eyes flutter closed, my instinct to fuck kicking in like a starved animal.

“Dude, your time’s up.” Lee’s voice cracks through the air, causing me to jump.

Brock chuckles, and I hold my breath, letting it go as he slowly drags his fingers out, making sure he brushes my clit before completely pulling them from my skirt. Hungry eyes locked on mine and still smiling, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks my moisture from them. Legs quivering and breathing a stuttered mess, I’m ready to take him right here.

A groan crawls from his chest as he stares at me. “Do you have any idea the damage I’m gonna do to that pussy when we get back to my place?”

I nod, trying to get my body under control. “I think I have an idea.”

“Nah, baby girl. I really don’t think you do. I’m gonna wreck it the way you like it, and
then
some.”

“You’re gonna wreck what?” Madeline slurs, wiping her sweaty forehead. “Her sanity?”

“I plan on coming close to doing just that.” Brock nods with a smirk.

“If you
haven’t
already wrecked it.” Lee snakes his arms around Madeline’s waist and drags her backward into a dark corner next to the bar, straddling her over his lap as he falls into a chair.

Brock turns to Ryder, his brow drawn up. “I gotta take a piss. Can I trust that you won’t maul my girl to death while I’m gone?”

“Are you
high
?” Ryder smacks his lips together. “She’s done for if you leave her with me, and I’m not responsible when she doesn’t come back to ya.”

“She’ll come back,” Brock calls from over his shoulder. “Just be nice.”

“Oh, I’ll be
very
 . . .
very
nice.” Ryder finishes his beer, bows his head and reaches for my hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief as he sets the empty bottle on a table. “Madam, may I have this dance?”

My pulse lurches at the thought of physical contact with Ryder. Smiling, I lay my hand in his, aware that he’s about to make the next five minutes . . . interesting. “I thought you didn’t like dancing?”

“Well, two things have changed since then.” He laces his fingers through mine, pulls me into his chest, and wraps his free arm around my waist. My heart sinks as he dips his mouth to my ear and whispers, “First, I like
slow
dancing, and in case you didn’t notice, the band’s playing ‘Sail’ by Awolnation.”