“I’m the president. They can’t kick me out.”

“Two jokes in one day? Maddox is so gonna ream you for drinking on the plane.”

“I haven’t been drinking, but I sure can—”

“Give me one second,” Molly said, dragging Deacon around the corner of the elevator bay.

He pushed her against the wall and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. “Miss me today, babe.”

“I will.”

“Can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”

“I can’t wait either.” Would sex in a fancy hotel be off-the-charts hot?

With Deacon? Guaranteed.

Molly wasn’t really paying attention to where she was going when they turned the corner and a freight train slammed into her. She would’ve hit the marble flooring if not for Deacon catching her.

“You all right?”

She nodded.

Then Deacon went after the guy. “Hey, Grape Ape.”

The big dude, in an ugly purple shirt, stopped and turned around. “What?”

“You damn near knocked my girlfriend over and didn’t stop to see if she was all right.”

“So?”

“So, get back here and apologize to her for bein’ an inconsiderate dickhead.”

Molly thought about ducking behind the palm tree.

The man said, “Make me.”

“Jesus, what are you? Five?”

The guy turned away.

“Fine.” Deacon grabbed his arm, twisted, and the Grape Ape dropped to his knees. “A. Pol. O. Gize.”

“Shit. Fuck. Let me go.”

“A. Pol. O. Gize. Fuckface. Now.”

“Ah, sorry, lady.”

“And?” Deacon prompted.

“And your boyfriend is a fucking psycho.” He glared up at Deacon.

Deacon bent down and whispered in the guy’s ear before he let him go.

“What did you say to him?”

“Gave him some advice.”

“I don’t wanna know, do I?”

“Probably not. I used bad words. I think he wet himself.”

Molly laughed and whispered, “My hero.”

“Deacon! Come on.”

“Gotta go, babe.” He kissed her quickly. “Later.”

Presley looped her arm through Molly’s and directed her down a long hallway. “While you were sucking face, I found out where the ballroom is.”

“Thank you.”

“Soooo . . .”

Molly groaned. “No conversation ever starts well with your drawn-out soooo.”

“I overheard what Deacon said to you at the elevator. I won’t repeat it, but damn, girlfriend, why are you not up in your room banging that man like a broken screen door?”

“Work. Same as him. Trust me. If the man could’ve gotten us both off in the five minutes we had in the room, he would’ve tried.”

“As Chaz says”—she mimicked his singsongy tone—“hate you.”

“I know we’re here because of work, but none of the single Black Arts guys trips your wires?”

“The hottie known as Riggins? Yes. But he looks at me like I’m a freakin’ science experiment, which means he doesn’t date chicks with ink.”

“Or maybe it’s the colored hair. Or the piercings. Or the scars,” Molly offered.

“Whatever. I’d love to have my hands on Big Rig’s perfect ass while he’s pumping into me, but that ain’t happening. So moving on . . . Ivan is hot, like hard-core hot, but he and Katie have that fucked-up thing going on, and then there’s some family business stuff with his dad I’m not cool with. At all.”

Molly frowned. “You mean the fetish club?”

“No. And if you don’t know, it’s not my place to tell you.”

Weird answer. “How about Fisher?”

“He’s built and sweet, but he’d fall in love with me, want to get serious right away, propose, and expect me to start popping out babies. He’s that kind of guy, and I’m so not ready for that.”

“Beck?”

“Now, him I like. Bet he uses that Zen attitude to fuck like an animal. But he’s distracted this trip. Blaze is a baby. It’s not my job to break them in.”

“I’m guessing it’s the same story with Zach and Jon-Dean.” Molly looked around. Why hadn’t they reached the room yet?

“But I’d do Maddox. He’s got that nasty/sweet temperament. And those fucking eyes of his. I’ll bet he’s got some hard-core stamina. I’d be curious to see what size motor he’s running in those coach’s shorts.”

“Maddox is, like, fifteen years older than you.”