Unraveled (Undone) by Jennifer Dawson Page A

Brandon what she’s into, he’ll know,” Leo says.
    Chad turns his gaze to where the waitress is leaning over the bar, working at the computer. “If I’m interested, I’ll find out myself.”
    That queasiness settles in my throat.
    I’m not jealous.
    I mean, why would I be jealous? I’m not attracted to Chad. But I find that I’m… well, I don’t know what I am. I just had it in my head he’d be the odd man out with me. That while the couples went off and did their kinky things, we’d sit in the corner, drink and have a good laugh at all this nonsense. But it turns out, with the dark-haired bombshell waitress, I could end up sitting here alone.
    The notion makes me even more determined to slip out the second Layla and Michael go off for their private escapade.
    And speak of the devil.
    Layla and Jillian emerge from the crowd now littering the floor, swaying to the music thumping loud over the speakers.
    They look exactly right. Exactly like they belong.
    Like sex and sin.
    Heaven and hell.
    People part for them; men stop what they are doing and stare after them, a look of stunned awe on their faces.
    I swallow hard.
    Michael shakes his head. “That’s trouble.”
    “Agreed,” Leo says, his voice amused, but his dark eyes are on Jillian. Hot and possessive.
    “What’s it going to be? Should we get them in line now? Or later.” Michael scrubs a hand over his jaw.
    “Later. Let’s see what kind of rope they hang themselves with,” Leo says.
    Michael nods. “Agreed.”
    A man tries to stop Layla, his hand encircling her wrist. She shakes her head and points to the necklace around her throat, a fine, delicate silver chain with a lock and key hanging off it. After all this time the significance of the charm finally registers in my brain. It’s a symbol of ownership. The man nods, and promptly removes his hands.
    He gives Jillian the eye, but she flashes her engagement ring, before pointing at the table. At Leo.
    The man looks over at us, grins, and raises his glass in a toast.
    Leo chuckles. “I almost feel sorry for him.” He crooks his finger at Jillian. “Almost.”
    Layla and Jillian continue their slow strut across the room, their hips a provocative sway, their breasts thrust out.
    Brandon comes up to the table, props himself up against the couch, and whistles. “Good luck with that.”
    Michael and Leo grin at each other.
    Layla and Jillian stop in front of their men and plop their evening bags on the table. Layla licks her lips, a sly expression on her face. She’s slicked her mouth with some sort of crimson gloss. She tilts her head toward the dance floor. “Jillian and I want to dance.”
    Michael’s gaze cruises over her body. “Are you going to be a good girl?”
    “Of course.”
    He nods. “All right then.”
    Now it’s Jillian’s turn and she looks at Leo, the question in her eyes.
    He looks right back, saying nothing.
    I don’t understand these women. They are strong, assertive, intelligent women, why do they need permission to dance?
    Jillian’s brows rise.
    Leo’s cocks.
    Finally, she rolls her eyes and says, “May I?”
    “May you what?” Leo asks, his arm relaxed on the back of the chair.
    She puts her hands on her hips. “May I dance with Layla?”
    “Yes. Since you asked so pretty.”
    She beams at him.
    He gives her a once over. “But before you do, since you girls are giving everyone a heart attack, you need something a little more overt to show you’re not available.”
    Apparently, in this crowd an engagement ring isn’t enough. I swallow hard. Feeling lost and small. I want to be back in my world where I feel like I matter. Tonight, I feel invisible.
    Jillian’s expression fills with excitement. “Yes.”
    He points to the floor at his feet. “Kneel.”
    She drops like a stone.
    I hold my breath.
    Michael chimes in, “I really don’t want to see this.”
    “Too bad.” Leo shifts, pulling out something black from his back pocket.
    He doesn’t say