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him to tease just under the waistband of his jeans. A heartbeat later, her tongue touched his.
    The darkness rolled up again. He could have her. Turn her around, bend her over the low wall, and fuck her fast and hard until her screams floated all the way to Sector Three. He could urge her to her knees, twist all that shiny blonde hair around his fist and find out if she still stared at him, open and brave, while he pushed his cock between her lips and jerked off in her mouth.
    No. Kisses. He concentrated on kissing her, licking her, learning the taste of her lips and what made her moan. He'd do this right. Slow and hot and respectful, with no stumbling. Not when he could feel Ace dogging every step, waiting for him to fail.

Chapter Three
     
    No one knew how to put on a party like Lex. Hell, no one knew how to put on a show like Lex.
    The party room had never been subtle, because Dallas had never been a subtle man. It was a room furnished for sin--for one kind in particular--and he spared no expense in indulging this vice. He'd built a playground for adults, with a hundred accessories to spice up sex and every surface begging to be defiled.
    Lex had turned that blatant offer into a silken promise. Dallas wasn't sure how--something with the softer lighting, new decorations. Hard leather benches with heavy D-rings were now buried in soft cushions, the sumptuous fabrics alongside the harsh silver chains somehow a perfect celebration of the couple of honor.
    Noelle and Jasper were enthroned next to Dallas on the plush couch that dominated the raised dais. Jasper looked smug as hell in leather and denim, and Noelle was taunting every man in the room with a frilly scrap of white lace that bared endless skin, framed her gorgeous tits, and showed off the intricate black tattoo wrapped around her throat.
    Ace had outdone himself with that one, working Jasper's name into a delicate web of lacy curls that looked like an expensive choker from ten feet away. Every time Dallas glanced to his left, Jasper was staring at the damn thing like a dying man catching a glimpse of salvation.
    Jealousy formed an ugly knot in Dallas's gut, especially with Lex holding down the opposite end of the couch, sleekly beautiful in a little red dress and acting like Dallas didn't fucking exist.
    That was fine. That was just fucking fine. Dallas could have any woman in the room on her knees for him by twitching a damn finger. For all the soft-focus lighting and pretty hors d'oeuvres, the night would devolve into fucking soon enough, and that would take the edge off his temper.
    It was an O'Kane party, after all.
    Noelle's soft laughter washed over him from where she leaned away from Jasper, her head tucked close to Lex's. Dallas nudged his friend. "How you holding up, old man?"
    Jasper finished his drink before answering. "Parties aren't my thing. But this is Noelle's night."
    Dallas eyed the fresh ink on the inside of Jasper's arm. Noelle's name, in Ace's inimitable style. "Not just hers."
    Jasper followed his gaze and nodded, though his words contradicted Dallas's. "The ink is mine. The party's hers."
    That, Dallas supposed, wasn't worth arguing. People had been drifting up to the dais all evening long with congratulations and gifts, and most of it had been heaped on a glowing Noelle. "Fair enough."
    Movement at the door caught Dallas's eye--Bren, with his seemingly ever-present shadow trailing him. Jasper was Dallas's right-hand man, and Brendan Donnelly was Jas's mirror. The strong, silent man who stood at Dallas's left, his cold-blooded intellect a good balance for Jasper's more tempered compassion.
    The girl hovering just behind Bren's left shoulder might as well have been Noelle's mirror. They'd come under Dallas's protection within a week of one another, but Noelle had fallen from the privileged grace of the city, and Six--if the girl had another name, she refused to give it--had been dragged out of the hell of Sector Three. Noelle was sweet softness