Kidnapping His Bride by Karen Erickson

The sequined dress fit her curves beautifully, showing off those long legs he was sorely tempted to touch. The shoes filled his dirty brain with images of her sprawled across his bed, wearing nothing else but those damn fuck-me shoes.
    Swiping his hand along his jaw, he studied her out of the corner of his eye, reminding himself he needed to rein his thoughts in tonight. She would most likely drive him out of his mind with lust moving that pretty little body of hers to the music but she was jumpy. Hell, she’d dumped him not even forty-eight hours ago.
    And now he wanted to never let her out of his sight again.
    “We’re here,” Cat announced when the car came to a stop in front of the club. She reminded him of an eager child, her face practically pressed to the window as she stared out at the line formed along the side of the building. Though there was nothing remotely child-like about Cat. “It looks busy.”
    “Don’t worry,” he reassured when she turned to look at him. “We’ll get right in.”
    “It’s almost eleven-thirty and look at the line.” She pointed. “I can’t even tell where it ends.”
    “The club’s open ’til four a.m.” The nightlife never ended in Manhattan. “And trust me. I know a way in.”
    The driver opened the door for them and Rafe followed Cat out of the car, standing tall so he could survey the scene before him. Immediately he noted the various men standing in line. How most of them blatantly stared at Cat, not that he could blame them.
    The sequined scrap of a dress accentuated her sensuous figure, her long, dark brown hair hung in sexy waves beyond her shoulders and when she turned to look at him, offering a shy smile in his direction, his heart nearly tripped over itself.
    Standing beside her, he slipped his arm around her slender shoulders and drew her in close, staking his claim. She’s mine. Don’t waste your time because she belongs to me.
    The majority of them looked away, losing interest.
    Good.
    “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggested, her worried gaze scanning the line of disgruntled wannabe club goers. “Is there another club nearby?”
    “I can get us in. Just follow my lead,” he murmured close to her ear, the scent of her hair driving him wild. “And don’t say a word. Let me do all the talking. I have everything under control.”
    She gave a subtle nod as he led her toward the two gentlemen who stood in front of the closed door, casting their disapproving gazes upon everyone nearby. A red velvet rope swung across the imposing, black-lacquered double doors, blocking everyone from coming inside unless they were specifically admitted. Rafe could hear the muttered protests when he approached the door hosts, knew that everyone most likely thought he was cutting in line.
    Which he was. But he had connections. He knew the owner through his sister. Renaldi Accessories had held a jewelry line launch at the location a little over three months ago. Not that he would reveal that little tidbit of information to Cat yet.
    For whatever stupid reason, he wanted to impress her tonight. Wanted her to think he could pull strings, make things happen, make things fun for her. That he would do anything to ensure she had a good time.
    Absolutely juvenile of him, but when it came to Cat, she made him act a little crazy.
    “Evening,” he said to the two very muscular, very stylishly dressed men standing in front of the door. Their expressions were made of pure disinterest, their thick arms crossed in front of their chests, their matching smirks almost disconcerting in how similar they appeared.
    Rafe couldn’t help but wonder if they were brothers—or linebackers.
    “Line’s back there,” one of them said, flicking his chin. “I suggest you get in it and wait your turn like everyone else.”
    Cat glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening. The line wound around the building. He heard it was like this every night. Stasia had told him more than once that