The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) by Harper Bentley Read Free Book Online Page B

visit the restrooms twice an hour
to keep the plumbing from backing up.
    I’m now
standing on the second level where the VIP section is, having had
to flash a pass to the security dude to get up here, and testing
the railing to make sure it’s holding up. Satisfied with the work
my men did and deciding to do one more spot check before I leave, I
glance down only to see Ms. Kyle on the dance floor.
    Yep. In a
crowd that’s maximum capacity my eyes go right to her. Fuck.
    But, Jesus,
the woman is stunning, long hair in waves on her shoulders and
she’s wearing some slinky blue number that accentuates not only her
long legs but also reveals that she’s not wearing a bra, her tits
bouncing gorgeously as she dances with some chump. I finish off my
whiskey watching her over the tumbler and feel my cock jump when I
think about those red-coated lips of hers surrounding it.
    “Goddamn it,”
I mumble, walking along the railing but keeping an eye on her.
    Jesus. I want
to throw my glass against a wall because I don’t need another
fucking complication and that’s all she is. A complication. Nothing
more. Nothing less.
    But that
knowledge does nothing to alleviate the fact that I want her.
    I stop to
watch her and run a hand over my face knowing I’m screwed.
    Thing is, I’m
an intelligent man. I’ve got a bachelor’s degree in business
management, I plan on pursuing a master’s in civil engineering, and
I have a steady job, so why am I letting my dick do the talking
here? I could walk down to that dance floor right now and take any
of a number of beautiful women home. Hell, I could call Jessica and
she’d come running just to get another piece of me.
    So what is it
about Laney Kyle that has me tangled in knots?
    Also? And this
is a huge also, I’m starting to question whether she’s involved in
her family’s illegal enterprises at all. And that has me all kinds
of confused.
    I’m frowning
when I get to the stairs and thankfully lose sight of her in the
crowd as I start heading down to the main floor reminding myself
that I don’t want to know where she is or what she’s doing.
    At the bar,
when I hold up my empty glass, Tommy makes me a new drink and hands
it to me, this time not bothering to flirt because he’s so busy,
and when I turn around, some babe is all up in my grill and rubbing
her body against me, running her hands up my chest to my shoulders
then down my bare arms. I’m just wearing jeans and a dark blue
t-shirt not having come here to party.
    “Hey,
handsome. Wanna get outta here?”
    I have to
chuckle because this is the norm. In Los Angeles, the supply of
beautiful women is endless as is the cache of bold ones and this
woman is not lacking in the looks or brash departments at all.
    “Hey, darlin’.
Sorry. I’m working. Maybe another time?” I inform her.
    “Crystal! Hand
me my purse!” she hollers at her friend who’s busy talking to
another guy. She pulls a pen from her purse and takes my hand,
writing her number on it. “I’m Bethany. Here’s some awesome ink to
match yours. Call me.” She smiles seductively then tiptoes up
kissing me right on the mouth.
    Huh.
    I walk away
knowing I won’t call her but have to smile when I look down at the
number surrounded by a heart that she’s drawn in my hand. Did I
mention the women here were bold?
    I circle the
dance floor keeping an eye out for my auburn-haired seductress and
think I see a glimpse of her dancing with yet another asshole. I
narrow my eyes as I move to get a better look and sure enough, it’s
her, grinding her ass against his dick. She bends at the waist and
I watch as her hair falls down almost touching the floor. When she
stands back up she stumbles a little but the bastard she’s dancing
with doesn’t even notice. She grabs the arm of a blond woman
dancing nearby and shakes her head before turning and pushing
through the crowd.
    I follow her
movement, walking around the floor to meet her, guessing she’s
going to be sick