Stripped Love (Guys Next Door #1) - Baylin Crow Page 0,2

two of them. "You do realize the entertainment is men with an aversion to clothing, right?"

"Of course we do." Caleb said as he tossed his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it beneath his black motorcycle boot. Smirking, he ruffled my unruly curls, gripped my shoulders and gave me a push to get my feet moving toward the club. "We'll enjoy the show, have a few drinks…see how the night goes." He waggled his dark brows when I glanced back at him. "You only live once. Now, let's get this show on the road.”

They stepped up to flank my sides as we crossed the street. Both a head taller than me, I hurried to keep up with their long strides so I didn't get left behind. The closer we drew to the building the more energy charged the air, and a slow deep bass thumped through the thick double doors.

In front of the building, a small gathering of well-dressed men waited in a short line to get inside, and a hulking bald man stood by the door in a suit and tie, scanning IDs. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but I could sense his disapproval lingering on me as we stepped up next after the other men had gone through.

My navy short-sleeved basic tee paired with faded jeans and scuffed white tennis shoes seemed out of place. Even CJ and Caleb were at least dressed in button ups, but I'd refused because I was comfortable in my outfit. Remembering the group before us, I realized my choice of wardrobe made me stick out rather than blend in like I’d hoped. As far as I was aware, there was no dress code so I brushed it off.

"ID." The blunt word was monotone from the expressionless man guarding the door.

I dug for my wallet in my back pocket and pulled out my driver's license while Caleb spoke to him about our VIP reservation.

After we offered our cards, he opened the door and gestured us through.

The music set a sensual tone with its slow, hypnotic beat that vibrated through the air, and the scent of colognes and sweat filled my nose. The dimly lit room was crowded, and between the song playing, chatter and whistles, it was overwhelmingly loud.

CJ gripped my elbow. "C'mon, Arch. VIP's this way."

Keeping me close to him, CJ steered me around the room toward a staircase that led to a second floor balcony with Caleb at my back.

A purple velvet rope was latched across the staircase, and a bouncer—who could have been a doppelgänger to the one who stood outside—waited next to it with a tablet in his hands.

"Name?" he asked with a bored tone as he tapped on the screen.

I stepped forward. "Archer W—"

CJ squeezed my elbow. "I got us, Arch."

"Okay." As he spoke to the man, my gaze wandered around the packed club.

High back chairs were clustered around tables that scattered across the floor space while long slate gray leather benches custom-aligned the walls, hugging the corners and hooking around curves. A bar was stationed on the far left of the room, and every stool was occupied while three bartenders hustled to fill drinks.

But what grabbed my attention the most was the main stage. Or rather what was happening on that stage. A blue-tinted spotlight haloed a guy, who appeared to be around my age, wearing what was left of a vintage Navy uniform. Nope, there went the rest of it. Down to wearing only a jockstrap, he moved to the music, and my eyes widened as he ran his hands down his oiled bare chest glistening beneath the light. He thrust his hips in dramatic sways which I found oddly amusing. My lips twitched.

Caleb leaned down with a chuckle. "I don't think that's the reaction he's going for. If you’re done gawking, we can head upstairs now.”

Bumping his shoulder, I waved my hand. “I’m just waiting on you.”

He scoffed but led the way without comment.

The upper floor was similar to the main floor in appearance. But the tables were spread further apart and instead of high back chairs, bucket seats were upholstered in the same slate colored leather.

We were met by a waiter who appeared to be in his twenties, only wearing a skintight pair of thin black shorts that just barely covered the swell of his ass, and the three of us were shown to a square table pushed close to the railing.

CJ ushered me into a seat with a direct view of the stage, and