Hat Trick (D.C. Stars, #4)

by Chelsea Curto

I turn and face him, not surprised to find a blond-haired guy looking at me. The worst ones are always blond.

“And blonds aren’t my type.” “I bet I could be your type,” he says in some last-ditch effort to keep me hanging around. “And I bet you couldn’t find my clit even if I pointed it out to you,” I say sweetly, and the bartender snorts. “It’s never going to happen, buddy.”

“Don’t party too hard.” “I’m a good boy, Lex,” he tosses back. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

“I don’t have a death wish, but you might because the one who’s not giving you any attention? That’s my wife, and I don’t like when people touch what isn’t theirs. Any other questions?” “Shit. Sorry.” He slides out of the booth and almost falls on the floor. “She didn’t say.” “It’s a game we like to play.” Lexi smirks in my direction with bright red lips. She grabs the toothpick from her drink and wraps her mouth around the speared lime. “I do something bad, then he punishes me.”

“I’m right here. Exactly where you left me.” Emmy kisses his forehead and brushes a piece of hair out of his eyes. “And almost having an orgy with Riley.” “Yeah?” Maverick turns his chin my way. “Did you tell him about the dream you had? The one with me, him, Hud⁠—” “You’re cut off, Miller.” Emmy puts a hand over his mouth. Her red cheeks match her hair. “One more word and you’re on the couch tonight.”

The romance books I read are right: having a guy turn a little unhinged and defend your honor is sexy as hell.

“I know. That was shitty of me. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize for your grief, son. It’s hard as hell, but you’re going to make it to the other side.

“Fuck it,” he whispers, kissing me again. “One night. Let’s play, Lexi.”

“What are your other rules, Lex? You’re in charge here. Tell me what you want and how you want it, and I’ll make it so fucking good for you.”

“Say something,” I blurt, mortified by the outburst. “What?” He kisses my knee then sucks on the skin, a spot I didn’t know I liked being touched but absolutely love. “What do you want me to say?” “I like being talked to. Being⁠—” “Praised. You like being told you’re good, don’t you, Lexi?” His touch turns rougher, possessive. “You might be strong and independent, but at the end of the day, you want to know you’re taking me so fucking well.”

It’s probably a good thing we’ve used a condom up to this point. Otherwise, I would’ve proposed to her.

“I bet you’d be fun to go on a date with. You’re probably all smooth moves and that whole oh, you have something on your shoulder, let me get it for you trick where you end up having your arms around her.” I snort. “The arm around the shoulder. Acting like I can’t hear her, grabbing her stool, and scooting it closer. Pretending like she has something on her face, but it’s really just an excuse to touch her. The perfect date hat trick.”

my leg. “I’m not in the mood for paperwork.” “I’m never in the mood for paperwork.” Grant heads for the door and flings it open. “Come on, boys. Let’s pretend like we’re Princess Mia driving the Mustang.” “That’s a good fucking movie,” Maverick says. “A great fucking movie,” Hudson adds, and I follow them down the hall.