Excerpt:

“PUT YOUR fucking cell phone away, Oliver. Mack’s got Maggie. She’s fine,” Haydn whined.

“Cut him some slack, dude. It’s the first night away from his kid. Of course he’s gonna be a freak about it,” Lucas countered.

“The two of you can kiss my ass. I’m just making sure Mack remembered she needs her bunny before bed.”

“Tonight is not about bunnies and babies. Tonight is about getting me laid,” Haydn said as he flicked the visor down and used the miniature mirror to touch up his eyeliner. “It’s been way too long since I’ve been good and fucked, and if you two are proper wingmen, we can find some beautiful man to take me home and I will be far less of a bitch in the near future.”

“Well, if that’s the case, consider us Goose and Iceman.”

“Is that some sort of weird hetero reference I’m not getting?”

Lucas looked at him with disdain. “Hetero reference. I have more gay sex than you do, asshole. It’s from Top Gun.”

“Is that a movie?”

“Jesus Christ, Haydn. Did you grow up in a cardboard box? Everyone’s seen Top Gun. Hot guys in fighter jets? Tom Cruise?”

“Hmmm, I’ll put it on my to-see list. In the meantime, how’s my hair?” he asked, pulling the dark curl at the front down in front of his eyes.

“Looks fine, I guess,” Oliver chimed in. “You didn’t wanna go with one length?”

Haydn shot him a dirty look. “It’s not like I have a fucking mullet. Shorter on the sides and longer on top is very in right now. Not that you’d know. You’re one step away from mom jeans.”

“I’d rather be seen in mom jeans than the tinfoil hot pants you’re currently sporting,” Oliver retorted.

“You’re the worst homo ever. How’d you even get your gay card? I assumed silver hot pants were a requirement.”

“Only for whores.”

Haydn shrugged, “Fair enough.”

THEY ARRIVED at the club a few minutes later. The bass from the music was loud enough to vibrate the inside of Lucas’s car as they pulled into the parking lot. Haydn shimmied in his seat, his red leather jacket making little rustling noises with the movements.

They walked across the parking lot with Haydn leading, anxious to get inside the club and dance. They paid their cover, and Haydn darted out ahead of his friends, skipping straight onto the dance floor. He fell into the gyrating rhythm of the music immediately. He lived for dancing. Hope Cove, where he, Lucas, and Oliver lived, was too small for a club. They had to drive half an hour out of town to go, so they didn’t go often. It was the one single thing Haydn didn’t like about living in Hope Cove. There was no place to dance.

He scanned the room, evaluating his prospects. There were some pretty boys over by the bathroom, no doubt waiting for hookups. It was a possibility if Haydn hadn’t found anything better before it was getting close to closing, but for now, he preferred to keep his options open. He looked back toward the door where his friends were still standing. Silly boys. They were wasting time. Although, if Haydn had a hot man at home he supposed he wouldn’t be all that eager to fling himself into the fray either.

He spun around, running his hands down his bare torso. His hips swayed back and forth, driven by the steady beat of the music. He let the sound surge through him, feeling like the low vibrations of the beat were triggering his own heartbeat. His body was flanked on all sides by other bodies, as men and women dry-fucked on the dance floor. The song changed then, the music becoming darker, sexier.

Slowly, his gaze settled on a man sitting at the bar. He watched as the man signaled the bartender and gave his order, turning and leaning with both elbows on the bar as he waited. The man surveyed the room before his eyes locked on Haydn. He licked his lips, causing Haydn to experience a sudden rush of blood downward. He was so fucking horny, and the way the guy was looking at him made him hungrier, more desperate for that release.

The bartender returned and slid the beer across the wooden counter with one hand. The stranger brought the bottle to his mouth and tipped it back to let the frigid liquid flow down his throat.

Fuck. Me. Haydn thought. Where were his wingmen when he needed them? He dipped and swayed around, and spotted them still by the door, watching him dance. Quirking his head, he motioned for them to follow him to the bar. When he was flanked on either side by his friends, he made his way over to the long bar. He intentionally ignored the man seated to their left, focusing instead on the bartender. He could feel the man’s eyes on him though, caressing him, scorching his already heated skin.

He knew how he looked; like spandex wrapped sex. He was average height, but he took care of himself. It made for a great visual when the fabric hugged his slender body in all the right places. It left nothing to the imagination, and Haydn liked it that way.

He leaned on the polished wooden counter, resting one foot on the base of a stool and arching his back, thrusting his ass out. Shameless? Maybe, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The guy watching him was fucking hot, and it wasn’t beneath Haydn to resort to dirty tricks to get what he wanted.

Haydn motioned for the bartender to take their orders and lifted himself on tiptoes, bending himself over the counter to talk into the man’s ear. He ordered a gummy worm martini for him and two coronas for Oliver and Lucas. So fucking dull.

The bartender placed their drinks on the bar and Oliver paid him. Haydn picked up his glass filled with bright green liquid and threw it back, downing it all in one shot. He returned the glass to the bar and dug into it with long fingers, pulling a gummy worm from the bottom. He locked eyes with the man who was still watching him as he sucked half of it into his mouth, pulled it back out and curled his tongue around to catch the end. The man looked like he was going to come in his jeans just from watching Haydn eat a fucking piece of candy.

He didn’t move though, just sat there watching, his dark blue eyes hungry as he waited until Haydn had pushed the empty glass to the side. He strode over to him, mindless of Oliver and Lucas. The man crowded close, pressing their bodies together, trapping Haydn against the bar.

“Dance with me,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving little room for disagreement, not that there would have been any. At all.