Chapter 12 The Past Four years ago The shot of Fireball burns down the back of my throat as I slam the glass on the knee-high table in our VIP booth and dance to DJ Johnny's fire remix of the song "Forever" by Diplo featuring Malou and Yuna. Ronnie is dancing with a woman in a tight red dress that glitters under the lights, and Mav's shamelessly flirting with a pair of Aussie girls, their accents making him eat out of the palm of their tanned, red-nail-tipped hands. I watch for a second, shaking my head. Not surprising-Australia is full of dangerous predators after all. The women, apparently, are no exception. Not that I blame them. Mav and Ron are swimming in their liquor, so I might as well be here alone. Beau's definitely a better companion, but lately, he's been completely uninterested in wingman duties, and tonight, he didn't have any interest in coming out for Allure's grand opening at all. I don't know what's gotten into him lately, but I swear he's turned into a full-on fucking hermit. Always tired. Always busy. Always talking about the fucking Midnight app he's in an all-out war to pitch against Seth McKenzie. I get it-Seth was the fifth in our now-foursome until he fucked Beau's girlfriend Bethany right out from under him-but damn, it'd be nice to have my friend back. I barely get the thought out before Carly, our cocktail waitress and a woman I've hooked up with a time or two when she worked at Tau Tau, tugs on my arm, leaning in as DJ Johnny cranks the bass and neon lights strobe across the floor. "You want any more bottles of anything? They're doing last call soon." I'm already half cooked, and Ronnie and Mav are well and truly gone, so I slice a finger across my throat and wink at Carly. She nods and sashays down the stairs to the dance floor, and I follow her with my eyes until she passes Beau's sister Avery, dancing with half the motherfucking University of Alabama football team in her tiny gold-mesh dress. Avery throws her head from side to side, her brown hair arcing above her, and her dress rides up to the top of her tanned thighs. One guy grinds at the back of her, but she essentially ignores him, laughing and screaming with one of her girlfriends when they bump into her space with their dance partner. I lean into the railing at the front of the booth and rub a thumb across my bottom lip as an uninvited flash of her black thong peeks out from the bottom of the back of her dress. I tell myself to look away. Instead, my jaw ticks. She's hot, and she definitely knows it, which I can only imagine is what made my ego tell her she wasn't my fucking type in the elevator of her condo earlier when Beau and her best friend Juniper decided to stay in instead of joining us. The truth is, Avery Banks is everyone's type. The real problem is that very few can actually handle her. Self-confident, wild, uninhibited-she's the kind of strong woman who scares people. Carly comes back with the tab for a signature, so I take it and scribble my name across it before signaling to Mav and Ron that I'm going to hit the dance floor for a few minutes before we drop out. They both wave me off, occupied with their girls or whatever, so I go on my own, navigating the writhing bodies on the floor with relative ease until I make it to the center. Avery still dances with the football players and her friends, and I find a redhead looking for a partner several feet away. This woman has rhythm and a banging body, and we fall into an easy cadence with each other. I like the way she moves her hips, and I tell her so as I settle my chin into her neck from behind. Her head drapes back, her hair cascading down my chest, and her eyes fall closed as she shakes against me. From this angle, I have a view of Avery, who's no longer dancing with the football players but moving seductively by herself, her eyes focused solely on me. It'd be easy to overthink it a million ways, but I don't. "Thanks for the dance," I tell the redhead, stepping around her and heading straight for Avery ten feet away. "Couldn't resist me?" Avery taunts the second I reach her, her lips curving as I grab her hips and pull her into me, making us sway together. I laugh, conceding, "I guess not." She grins like she just won something. "Get ready then, Henny," she says, leaning in so close I catch the seductive floral scent of her perfume. "You've never been danced with like this." I chuckle. "Oh yeah? That right?" She nods, backing up just enough to drag a single finger down the center of my chest, her nails grazing my skin through my shirt. Then, she moves. Slow. Controlled. Dangerous. She shakes her hips and bends slightly at the waist, and her eyes are coy as they look up at me through her lashes. It's ridiculously fucking sexy, and admittedly, I'm starting to think she's right about never experiencing this before. And all I can see is miles upon miles of her gorgeous, perfect skin as the slinky gold dress she's wearing effectively disappears. Her hands find their way into her hair, and she stands upright and winks, turning her back to me as she rolls her body in time with mine. She turns back toward me and presses her perfect curves against my body like it's the most natural thing in the world. And fuck, maybe it is, because I find myself pulling her in tighter, digging my fingers into her waist as we move in perfect tempo. And then, she just looks at me. No smirks, no games, no taunts-just Avery. She holds my gaze for a long moment before putting a hand to my face and pulling it to her own, our lips clashing in an unexpected, tongue-filled kiss. I feel it fucking everywhere. Hell, my whole damn body comes alive, and my heart pounds hard in my chest as she pulls back like nothing happened and goes back to doing her sexy little dance. The fuck was that? Thoughts race through my head about kissing my best friend's little sister and all the implications of that, and when she finally turns to face me again, I bring it up. "Avery, you just kissed me." She laughs and shrugs. "So?" "So, you're Beau's little sister." She smiles demurely, getting in my face and putting her lips almost to mine again. The song pounds around us, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what'll happen. "Don't worry about it, Henny. I kiss everybody." Evidently feeling the need to prove her point, she spins around and grabs the first football player she sees and pulls him in for a kiss. My jaw clenches. My body tenses. And the cruel scene mocks my careless dance with potential feelings. I take it as my cue to leave. Because in Avery's world, it's hard to believe there'll ever be just one man.