Book 3 in the Bad Boys Club series
The name of the game is control. Hugh's
a lawyer for a well-known defense firm. That was Daddy's choice -- both the
profession and the firm. His father's control is second only to that of the
wealthy society Hugh moves in. In Hugh's world, image is everything. But
appearances can be deceiving. Blond hair, cornflower blue eyes, a cute face and
boyish charm belie the shark within... His obsession? Hot cars. And small,
blond twinks.
Enter Tobis. This sweet young twink isn't at all what he appears to be. Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, Tobis is one of the strongest weres around. And he's on the hunt. Tobis' obsession? Leather. Particularly on his submissive mate.
And then there were none...
Enter Tobis. This sweet young twink isn't at all what he appears to be. Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, Tobis is one of the strongest weres around. And he's on the hunt. Tobis' obsession? Leather. Particularly on his submissive mate.
And then there were none...
Excerpt:
Hugh sat at the table
watching as Kain, Jordan, and Allen made their moves on the prey they’d picked
out. He’d checked the dance floor, and not one guy he saw impressed him so far.
He needed a change -- something or someone to break the monotony. With a sigh,
he picked up his glass. Before he could take a drink, that feeling of being
watched hit him square between the shoulder blades again. His shoulders tensed
and chill bumps broke out over his flesh.
“What the hell?” While he
was used to being stared at, and even got his own far share of attention from
the paparazzi, this was different. More intense, more…threatening, almost.
Unease flooded him, and he couldn’t shake the recurring feeling of danger. Hugh
glanced around, but didn’t see anyone taking an undue interest in him. Maybe a
family member of one of the defendants they’d gotten off was stalking him. Hugh
dismissed the idea immediately; that was just silly.
More likely his old man had
someone keeping an eye on him. Now that he could believe-- the nosey old
bastard. “Fuck this.” The whole night had been off from the get-go, and he’d
had enough. He rose, with every intention of leaving, when the overhead lights
spotlighted someone at the bar below.
“Well, hello,” he murmured
as he stared at the young man at the main bar. Jesus, how had he missed this
one? He was perfect. Damned if he was leaving now. The night was suddenly
looking up.
Dressed simply, in faded
jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather bomber jacket, was a stranger, one of the
most gorgeous men Hugh had ever seen. He was everything he wanted in a man --
cute, small, and blond. The perfect twink. Actually, the tiny blond looked
entirely too young to be in Night Moves, but he was sure the guy
wouldn’t be allowed in if he was underage. To make things even better, his
target was staring at him. Even from this distance, he could see the hunger
dancing in the stranger’s eyes. He was a little more blue-collar than Hugh
normally went for, but what the hell. Hadn’t he just been thinking he needed a
change?
“Yeah, why not?”
Hugh had taken no more than
a few steps when the man at the bar winked at him. Most of the twinks he picked
up were either drama queens or shy little guys. There was certainly nothing shy
about this man. Hugh raised an eyebrow. He’d have to show the stranger who was
in charge, of course, then they could have some fun. At least it looked like he
wasn’t going to have to put out much effort tonight, and that suited him just
fine. Hugh made his way down stairs to the main bar and to the guy waiting on
him.
“Hey there, sexy. Buy you a
drink?” Hugh stood next to his target, music pounding in the background. He was
a good half a foot taller, he noticed.
“I’ll let you buy me a
drink, then you can take me home with you. How does that sound, darlin’?”
Hugh’s entire body clenched
at that southern drawl. Well, fuck. That was the sexiest thing… he’d heard of a
whiskey-soaked voice before, but this… this was decadent. He had to clear his
throat before he could speak. “Direct is how it sounds.”
“Problem?”
Hugh motioned to the
bartender and resisted the urge to readjust his cock. That accent had him
hardening immediately. “Absolutely not. Just not used to it.”
“Now that’s a crying shame.”
“I’m beginning to think so
myself.” Jesus, every word that fell from the guy’s lips set him on fire. A
quick look around showed he wasn’t the only one affected by that slow drawl. He
frowned at two women and a man in warning. This sexy thing with the voice that
was as slow as molasses was his for the night; he would be the one that heard
the guy cry out in pleasure.