Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy Series Book 2)

After arriving in Vegas and checking into their individual suites at the Bellagio, the guys and girls split up to go their separate ways for the afternoon and evening. While Mason promised to make Clay’s last day and night as a free man a memorable one, Katrina and Tara opted for a more low-key approach for the bride-to-be and took Samantha to the hotel spa, where they all indulged in long, luxurious massages, body wraps that left their skin soft and glowing, and hydrating facials.

A few hours later, nails complete, they sat side by side in pedicure chairs, their final treatment of the day. All three of them were wrapped up in soft, fluffy robes, drinking a glass of champagne, and eating chocolate-covered strawberries.

Life didn’t get much sweeter than this, Katrina thought with a content sigh. She settled back in the cushy leather chair while enjoying her first ever detoxifying foot soak, unable to recall ever being so pampered and relaxed or feeling so calm. Since sex wasn’t in her foreseeable future, despite what she’d told Mason today on the plane about hooking up with a random stranger, she decided that nurturing her body, mind, and soul with an array of therapeutic services was the next best thing.

“Thank you for an amazing day,” Samantha said, her smooth complexion glowing from her recent facial, and for the man she was about to marry. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you two here for the wedding this weekend, and for standing up as my maids of honor. I adore you both so much.”

Katrina smiled. Samantha might have come from a wealthy family, but she was sweet, genuine, and the best thing that had ever happened to Clay. “We feel the same way about you,” she said as the three of them clinked their champagne glasses together in a toast.

“And we wouldn’t miss this wedding for anything,” Tara added as she picked up a ripe, red strawberry and bit into the chocolate tip.

Samantha raised a recently shaped brow. “Why, because you can’t believe that Clay is really getting married and want to witness it for yourselves?” Her tone was light and teasing, her pretty blue eyes sparkling happily.

Katrina knew she was joking, but wanted the other woman to know that their reasons for being here were much more authentic. “No, because you and Clay are meant to be together, and we’re all family, which means we’ll always be here for you.”

The word family didn’t come easily to Katrina, not when her own deadbeat father had walked away when she was thirteen, and her mother had turned around and remarried a man who creeped Katrina out—and for good reason, she’d eventually learned. The people she now considered family were Mason and his brothers, and the few others who were allowed into her inner circle. People who had proven themselves loyal, dependable, and trustworthy. And now, that small group included Samantha.

“If we’re family,” Samantha said, looking from Katrina to Tara with affection. “Then that makes you two my sisters, which I’ve always wanted to have.”

Katrina smiled as she wriggled her toes in the warm, silky water bubbling around her feet and ankles. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with us.”

Quiet moments passed as the three of them finished their champagne, and the calluses around their heels and toes were exfoliated, followed by hot towels around their calves and a paraffin wax treatment that left their feet smooth and soft to the touch. Samantha bought a pretty pink nail polish she wanted each of them to wear, which matched the color of the maid-of-honor dresses and the flowers in her bouquet for tomorrow’s wedding.

“So, what would you like to do on your last night as a single woman?” Tara asked as they waited for their toenails to dry. “I’ve heard Thunder From Down Under is the show of choice for bachelorettes. Watching hot, chiseled men dance and strip and thrust their hips could be fun.”

Samantha wrinkled her nose in a clear veto of that idea. “I’ll pass on the Aussies. The only man I want to watch strip naked is Clay. That man is so freakin’ hot I’d give him a lap dance any day,” she said with a cute, champagne-induced giggle.

Yeah, Samantha was head-over-heels in love, and Katrina couldn’t help but envy the fact that her friend had found the one—and Clay was equally smitten. Their unwavering relationship and feelings for each other made Katrina all the more aware of her own lack of male companionship, and made her wish for more.

Even though she’d harbored more intimate feelings for Mason for years, she’d tried to give other men a chance. She’d even been in a few short-term but committed relationships with nice, decent guys. Safe men who didn’t intimidate her and treated her with the kind of respect a woman deserved. Easygoing men who didn’t judge her by her purple-tipped hair, her eccentric clothing, or her sleeve of butterfly tattoos that made others label her as white trash or a tramp—terms her own stepfather had used to degrade and humiliate her.

But deep inside, Katrina knew that focusing on those more passive qualities when it came to the men she’d dated had been part of the problem and why those attempts at a relationship hadn’t worked for her. She wanted that safety and trust and respect—what girl didn’t?—but she also yearned for intense passion and the kind of heated desire that overwhelmed her body and senses. She wanted a man who was confident in his ability to take control and introduce her to the kind of forbidden pleasures her body craved, without making her feel cheap or dirty or vulnerable afterward.

So far, she hadn’t met a man with that unique ability, and maybe she never would. Which meant she’d eventually have to settle for a man who made her feel appreciated and secure, and forgo her fantasies of hot, demanding sex.

Samantha’s phone pinged, and she picked it up, then swiped her finger across the screen to unlock it. A dreamy smile curved her lips. “Speaking of my future hubby, he just sent me a text.”

“What are they up to? No good?” Katrina asked curiously, because the boys hadn’t revealed their plans for Clay before they’d gone their separate ways, and with Mason in charge of entertainment, there was no telling where he’d dragged his brothers off to.

“Actually, the three of them rented desert racers and went off-roading just outside of Vegas for the afternoon,” Samantha said, sounding surprised.

Tara shook her head and finished the last of her champagne. “Boys and their toys and need for speed, right?”

Samantha typed out a reply to Clay’s text. “At least they’re staying out of trouble, which is more than I expected with Mason organizing all the activities.” Her tone was wry as she mimicked Katrina’s thoughts exactly.

“He’s actually showing some restraint, considering all the raunchy adult shows in Vegas,” she said, impressed.

“Right?” Samantha agreed in amusement as she read another message that pinged on her phone. “Now they’re off to the Stratosphere Tower to go on some kind of thrill ride called Insanity that swings riders out and over the side of the hotel. From the top of the tower.” Her tone rose in pitch as she read that last part.

Katrina didn’t even bother to suppress a shudder at the thought of dangling over the side of a hotel. “They’re such adrenaline junkies.”

“If anything happens to Clay, I will personally kill Mason,” Samantha said, and Katrina knew she wasn’t kidding. “And after that, they’re going indoor skydiving, then dinner.”

“And what about us?” Tara asked.

“No way am I doing something so crazy,” Samantha said adamantly. “In case you’ve forgotten, Clay calls me cupcake because I’m a lightweight and have a weak stomach, even without alcohol.”

“I meant, what are we going to do,” Tara clarified with a laugh. “If naked men are off the menu, how do you want to spent the rest of the evening?”

Samantha gave Tara’s question serious consideration, and after a few minutes, her face lit up with excitement. “I know what I want to do! Last weekend I was watching the movie Coyote Ugly on cable, where they dance on the bar tops and get rowdy. It looks fun, and I know they have one of the franchises here in Vegas a few hotels down from the Bellagio. What do you two think? Want to go?”

“Sounds good to me,” Tara said with an enthusiastic nod.

Katrina shrugged, up for anything that didn’t include speed or heights. Indulging in a few drinks and dancing, even with just the girls, sounded like a fun way to spend the evening. “I’m game.”

With their evening agenda settled, the three of them finished at the spa, then headed up to their individual suites to change and do their makeup and hair. Wanting to feel sexy for their night out, Katrina decided on a pair of slim black leather pants that rode low on her hips and a dark purple bustier that displayed her armful of tattoos. The front of the top laced up tight, and the snug bodice lifted and shaped her breasts so a bra wasn’t necessary. She finished off the look with a stack of silver bangles on her bare arm and a pair of strappy high heels.

She tucked her room key and credit card into the front pocket of her pants so she didn’t have to worry about a purse, and an hour and a half after parting ways to get ready, the three of them met up again. They grabbed a quick dinner, then walked the short distance to the New York New York Hotel, where Coyote Ugly was located, which also gave them the opportunity to take in the excitement and energy of the Las Vegas Strip.

By the time they arrived at the establishment that looked just like the iconic bar in the classic movie, the place was packed and rocking from the late 1990s music blaring out of the jukebox in the corner. There weren’t any traditional booths or chairs, just standing-style tables on the outskirt of the dance floor, which was filled with men and women having a great time. Other female patrons were dancing on the bar counter, and guys were crowded around, egging them on.

Katrina led the way to one of the standing tables so they could order a drink, assess the situation, and watch the entertainment at the main bar before they decided what they wanted to do. Tara and Samantha followed her through the crowd, and by the time they reached a vacant table, Samantha was on her phone, tapping out a text. Judging by the smile on her face, Katrina assumed she was touching base with Clay. When a bar waitress came by, she ordered a round of shots for the three of them.

Samantha finished up her texting and slipped her phone into her cross-body purse. A few minutes later, their drinks were delivered, and Katrina raised her small glass to her two friends.

“To our first official girls’ night out, even if it is on the eve of your wedding,” she said in a loud voice to be heard above the noise level. “When we get back home, I think we need to do this more often, just the three of us. No men.”

“Agreed,” Samantha and Tara said at the same time.

They tapped their shot glasses together and swallowed the liquor in one gulp. It wasn’t enough alcohol to get them drunk—no way did Katrina want to explain to Clay that his bride had a hangover on their wedding day—but it was just enough to warm her insides and loosen and relax her body.

A good-looking guy came up to Tara and asked her to dance, and with a little finger wave at her and Samantha, she followed him out onto the dance floor. Samantha and Katrina watched for a while, both of them dancing where they were standing at the table along the far wall.

After a while, another guy approached them, this one big and burly, rough around the edges, and clearly well on his way to being drunk. When he grabbed Katrina’s hand to pull her away without asking if she wanted to dance with him, she yanked her arm back and gave him a sharp look that hopefully conveyed her feelings and made it clear she wasn’t interested.

His narrowed gaze slid down the length of her in the kind of leer that made her stomach roil. Then he puffed out his wide chest and flexed his biceps as if he were trying to make up for the fact that he’d just been rejected. “What’s the matter? I’m not good enough for you?”

And this was why she didn’t go to bars. Hell, she rarely went to Kincaid’s on their busy nights because she hated dealing with egotistical men who looked at her like an easy conquest. Instead of provoking him further, she gave the guy a sweet smile and said, “I don’t dance with strangers.”

It was a ridiculous statement considering that’s what most people did in a nightclub, but her comment was so worth it when he frowned in confusion at her, as if she’d just given him a puzzle to figure out. Then he shook his head and slid his gaze to Samantha. There was no way Katrina was letting this guy even think about taking one step toward her.

“She doesn’t dance with strangers, either,” Katrina said just as the lug opened his mouth to say something.

After giving Katrina an irritated look, he turned around and finally left them alone.

Samantha laughed, her blue eyes full of playful mischief as she leaned closer to Katrina. “So, since we don’t dance with strangers, want to dance with each other?”

Considering Samantha wasn’t going to dance with any guy in the place and Katrina wanted her to have a good time, she nodded and the two of them joined the crush of people getting down to R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion.” Even though she didn’t do it often, Katrina loved to dance, loved the sensuality of her movements and the way the beat of the music made her body come alive.

The two of them danced a few songs until Katrina lost track of time. But they were having fun as they laughed and watched other couples bust out trendsetting dance moves, and Katrina found herself envious of the females who were brave enough to get up on the bar top and dance in front of everyone.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but when she saw Samantha’s gaze move to someone behind Katrina and watched her face light up like a woman in love, she wasn’t surprised to see that the person she was beaming at turned out to be Clay, who had somehow found his fiancée in the crowd. Jesus, had Clay put a tracking device on Samantha?

Katrina leaned closed to Samantha so she could speak directly in her ear and be heard over the music. “What is Clay doing here?”

When she moved back, Samantha’s expression was sheepish, and a tad apologetic. “I told him where we were and asked him and the boys to come join us.”

Which meant that Mason was here, as well. Fucking fabulous, Katrina thought, not at all happy that the boys had just crashed their girls’ night out and fun. Then again, it was hard to be upset with Samantha when all she wanted was to be with her man, but Katrina had expected it to be a Mason-free evening.

“Sorry to cut in and steal away my beautiful fiancée,” Clay said as he wrapped his arms around Samantha and pulled her close.

The sinful gleam in his eyes told Katrina he wasn’t the least bit sorry to be able to spend extra time with his bride-to-be before they went to their individual suites for the night.

“Last I saw, Levi and Mason were getting a beer and heading over to one of those tables with Tara,” Clay went on, jerking his head in the direction where the girls had been earlier. “I’m sure if you ask Mason, he’ll dance with you.”

Oh, hell no. That was one activity she’d avoided at all costs with Mason throughout the years, knowing that it would be sheer torture for her to have his hard, muscled body pressed so close, and to feel the grind of his hips against hers like a slow, sexual tease. And that’s all it ever would be, since Mason wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him.

She made her way back to the area with tables and found Levi and Tara at one of them, both drinking a beer. No Mason, of course.

“Where’s Mase?” she asked, knowing it was a bad idea even before she spoke, and that she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Doing what he does best,” Levi said, his tone droll, leaving no doubt in Katrina’s mind as to what he meant. Man-whoring.

“He’s over there by the bar, trying to charm his way into that girl’s pants,” Tara added unnecessarily as she pushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Let’s hope he doesn’t drag her into the bathroom and get himself arrested in Vegas,” she said with a snort.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. . . you’ll just get upset over something you can’t change, Katrina’s subconscious warned her.

Like an idiot, she glanced over her shoulder and looked, her stomach in knots even before her gaze zeroed in on the one man who had way too much power over her emotions. It was a scene she’d witnessed so many times before—hot, gorgeous, tattooed Mason flirting with some random girl who had caught his eye, his devastatingly sexy smile promising the kind of pleasure most women couldn’t resist. Judging by the way the pretty girl put her hand on his arm and swayed toward him so their bodies brushed, he was close to sealing the deal.

Hurt and anger warred within Katrina, the latter of which she had no right to feel. Logically she knew Mason was free to do what he wanted, with whomever he chose, but what upset her the most was the fact that he’d managed to ruin the fun she’d been having. He’d crashed their party, and she resented him being there and forcing her to watch him most likely leave the place with another woman.

She exhaled a deep breath, trying to release the ache tightening in her chest, but the tension remained, especially when she added in the fact that he’d called her uptight earlier today and accused her of not being able to loosen up and have fun. During that plane ride, he’d suggested she find a random guy to have a fling with, and in a moment of frustration, she’d told Mason that she would.

She remembered that dumbfounded look on his face, and his shock that she’d actually agreed to do something so out of character. She’d given him that flippant reply because he’d provoked her, but now she seriously considered putting herself out there to see what would happen, and how Mason would react.

And hell, maybe she’d get lucky tonight, too.

The Coyote Ugly bartenders were urging women to dance up on the counter, and Katrina realized that it was the perfect opportunity to show Mason that she was fully capable of letting loose and having a good time without him. She was finished standing on the sidelines, waiting and pining for something that wasn’t going to happen because Mason didn’t reciprocate her feelings.

You can do this, her inner vixen coaxed, bolstering her courage and confidence. Get up on that bar and give Mason a show he’ll never forget.

And that’s exactly what she intended to do, Katrina vowed as she headed for the stairs that led up to the staged bar, just as Don Henley’s “All She Wants To Do Is Dance” started to play.