Worthy of You: Book One in The Haze Nightclub Series Read online

  Contents

  About the Author

  Sound Track

  Dedication:

  Chapter One: Lo

  Chapter Two: Renee

  Chapter Three: Lo

  Chapter Four: Renee

  Chapter Five: Lo

  Chapter Six: Renee

  Chapter Seven: Lo

  Chapter Eight: Renee

  Chapter Nine: Lo

  Chapter Ten: Renee

  Chapter Eleven: Lo

  Chapter Twelve: Renee

  Chapter Thirteen: Lo

  Chapter Fourteen: Renee

  Chapter Fifteen: Lo

  Chapter Sixteen: Renee

  Chapter Seventeen: Lo

  Chapter Eighteen: Renee

  Chapter Nineteen: Renee

  Chapter Twenty: Lo

  Chapter Twenty-one: Renee

  Chapter Twenty-two: Lo

  Chapter Twenty-three: Renee

  Chapter Twenty-four: Lo

  Chapter Twenty-five: Renee

  Chapter Twenty-six: Lo

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Renee

  Chapter Twenty-eight: Lo

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Renee

  Chapter Thirty: Renee

  Chapter Thirty-one: Lo

  Chapter Thirty-two: Renee

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Lo

  Chapter Thirty-four: Renee

  Chapter Thirty-five: Lo

  Chapter Thirty-six: Renee

  Epilogue: Renee- Six months later

  Epilogue II: Lo- One year Later

  Epilogue III: Renee- Five Years Later

  Dear Readers,

  Chapter One: Krysta

  Chapter Two: Krysta

  Chapter Four: Ax

  Chapter Five: Krysta

  About the Author

  Kandee Reyna is a mom of twelve, wife of four, and your new favorite imaginary friend.

  When she’s not tapping out sex scenes on the keys of her computer, she’s yelling at kids, chasing unicorns, and having scandalous affairs with her husbands. She’s make-believe and wants to stay that way, so don’t go looking for the real in the fantasy.

  It’s all part of the scene. ;)

  Stalk her where you can, which is only on Instagram:

  Instagram.com/kandee.reyna

  Sound Track

  I Ain’t Your Mama- Jennifer Lopez

  Bonbon- Era Istrefi

  No- Meghan Trainor

  Partition- Beyoncé

  Sexx Dreams- Lady Gaga

  Ruelle,- In the Dead of Night

  Ain’t My Fault- Zara Larsson

  Halsey- Sorry

  Where’s my Love- SYML

  I’ll Be Good- Jaymes Young

  Never forget you- Zara Lasson and MENK

  Twenty One Pilots- Screen

  Andra Day- Rise Up

  Dedication:

  This book is for Amie the Duck, and my stud of a man. Love you both.

  Worthy of You

  Copyright © 2019 Kandee Reyna

  All rights reserved.

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Cover Photography from Canva.com

  Chapter One: Lo

  I watch the dance floor slowly fill from my private room in the club I own, Haze. It’s almost ten, which means soon there won’t be much room to dance and the line outside will be down the block. I scan my eyes, looking for the usual pricks. So many men come to night clubs looking for a one-night-stand which is fine. Shit I’m one of them, and it’s what makes me my money, but some of them are pricks who prey on women using date-rape drugs and smooth words. I can spot a pimp for a mile away, something I’ve needed to be warry of, lately. I have security on staff, but I like to sit up here and observe as well. You can see so much more when you’re above everything, especially if they don’t know you’re watching.

  I sit down in the plush arm chair closest to the one-way glass wall and take a drink from my tumbler. The dance floor is getting full, and I watch girls grinding on their friends with first drinks in their hands. I roll my eyes, irritated at the mess they’re probably making on my wooden floor. Many of them I’ve seen plenty of times. They come in often and leave with different men just as much. It always starts the same. A group of girls partying together, probably making some stupid pact about coming in together and leaving together, and then calling each other from a stranger’s bed in the morning. I’ve been that stranger more than once—only they don’t call from my bed.

  I continue to search the dance floor, looking for a possibility for tonight. My eyes stop on a woman I’ve never seen at Haze before, I’m sure of it. No way I’d forget a face and body like that. Her red lips smile wide, and my balls tighten in reflex. lost in a tunnel where everything and everyone but her is trivial and blurred and I move closer to the window to watch her. She is sandwiched between two other women, her long dark hair bounces as she sways to the music. A few curls stick to her neck when she holds her long, curly, tresses up as a reprieve from the heat of the dance floor and then lets the tight curls fall down her back again, bouncing back to place and stopping right above her round ass.

  With her hands in the air, she rolls her hips and moves her body until she’s facing me. Her eyes smolder with lust she’s unaware of, above flushed cheeks. Her nose has the perfect slope to it and I can tell from here there’s hardly any make-up on her smooth skin. The tight black dress dips below her chest and hugs her thighs. Her friend shouts something over the music and she leans in close to hear and I feel my body start to lean in too. Shit, idiot. She tugs on her dress, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth worrying over it with her teeth. Fuck. It goes straight to my dick. She raises her eyes heaven-wards and laughs at whatever the small woman with a big ass is saying and those blue eyes and pouty lips are more than I can handle. She’s mine tonight.

  Chapter Two: Renee

  “Krysta. I’m not wearing this. I don’t even want to go.” I whine from the edge of the bed.

  “You’re going damn it! You can’t pull this shit now. I gave you time. I gave you space to watch your stupid T.V. movies and mope in a tub of ice cream. I gave you time to get over it without a rebound,” She says the last one with air quotes and an eye roll, “But now you’re over him. You said so yourself, so it’s time to get out of this apartment and get laid.” Truthfully, there wasn’t much to get over besides the death to my dating life. My feelings were less than hurt when Jeff and I split.

  I huff loudly and throw myself back on the bed, my hair fanning out around my head. “I am over him, Krys. I’m just not ready to jump back into the dating scene. Jeff sucked. Like, super sucked.”

  “Jeff sucked, like, super sucked.” Krysta mocks in a child-like voice. “That’s exactly why we need to get you out there again! I bet he sucked in so many more ways than just on the surface.” She wags her eyebrows.

  He did, actually. He was borin
g as fuck, and he sucked in bed. I’m still not sure why I wasted so much time on his stupid ass. I had one orgasm while with him. One, and I brought myself there, trying to show him what to do. I’m not exactly what you’d call experienced, but even I knew orgasms were supposed to be part of the deal. I hope he uses what I taught him on his new girlfriend, ‘cause he sure as shit didn’t apply his newly-taught skills on me before he ended things in a boring, stupid, “Hey, let’s be friends” way.

  “Fine.” I rise from the bed. “I’ll wear the dress, I’ll go dance, but I’m not getting drunk, and I’m definitely not going home with anyone.”

  “Eh, whatever you say. You can drive my car home then because I’m getting drunk and I’m definitely getting laid.”

  She purses her lips in the mirror of the vanity and then winks at me. Rolling my eyes, I go into my bedroom to get ready. I slip the dress over my head and dig out my red pumps from the closet and turn to the mirror. Christ, Krys. This thing brings a whole new meaning to Little Black Dress. It’s sleeveless with a plunging neckline, and the hem is a good six inches from the top of my knees. It hugs every curve of my body. I turn to the side and examine my ass, courtesy of my Puerto Rican mother. That and my tight, curly mane of hair. The only two things she left when she walked out, well, other than me and my daddy’s broken heart.

  I brush some mascara onto my lashes and rub a deep shade of red on my lips before I switch off the light to my room and walk down the hall. I can feel the dress already riding up my thighs and inwardly sigh at the number of times I’m going to pull it down tonight.

  “Dayum, girl!” Vivian, my other bestie, calls as I come down the hall. “You’re getting all the hunnies tonight!”

  Krysta laughs and gives a catcall, “Told you you’d look killer in that dress. If only my mama gave me all that junk in my trunk. Turn around so I can zip you up.” I comply, turning and sweeping the hair off the back of my neck.

  “Let’s get out of here. I heard if you get in line before nine, you’ll get into Haze. It’s swanky enough to attract men with cash, but just hood enough to bring all the fine-ass men out.” Viv says in her thick Harlem-raised accent. Viv comes from a great family and knows what it’s like to have the unconditional love and support of a mother and father. She’s dangerously smart, and the first person I call when I’m stumped in calculus, but also the first person I’d call if I needed back up in a fight. Not that I’d ever been in one.

  “See, that’s why we keep her around,” Krysta laughs, “She’s classy enough to be a great friend, but down enough to find us the hotties.” I roll my eyes.

  Krysta is the exact opposite of Viv, and not just in appearance. She grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her perfectly straight blond hair always shines, and her various shades of highlights are never in need of a touch up. The salon is her second home, and it’s apparent. Her hands and feet are always perfectly manicured, and she wears dresses more expensive than my entire closet. We share an apartment in a building her dad owns; I pay rent to him every month, but it’s more of an obligatory thing, rather than monetary. He doesn’t need my money or want it, but I give it to him anyway.

  “Down? Did you step out of the nineties?” Vivian asks.

  “Y’all are nuts,” I say with immediate regret as Krysta and Vivian both sing out ‘y’all’ in unison, adopting fake southern accents.

  I moved here right after I graduated from high school. I grew up in a small town in central Texas. My mom left before I could even walk, so it was just me and my daddy. He’s the best a girl could ask for, and my favorite person in the whole world. It broke my heart to leave home, but he wouldn’t hear of me staying. I’ve dreamed of going to Colgate since I learned to paint, so the day dorms opened I was here, with a U-haul full of things my dad insisted I’d need.

  “Let’s go party, bitches!” Krysta shouts as she heads to the door, pumping her fist to the music only she can hear and holding up her phone. If Snapchat doesn’t see it, it doesn’t happen, according to Krysta. Good Lord, this is going to be a long night.

  The line at Haze is shorter than I expect, and I’m glad. The heat here is nothing like Texas, but it’s muggy and I don’t want to sweat before we even get in the door. Someone yells Vivian’s name and she grabs our hands, tugging us to the front of the line, “Come on. Manny is working tonight. Guess who’s getting in free ladies!?”

  “Hey, Viv. You’re looking sexy tonight.” He grabs her hand and spins her around, biting his lip and leaning back to get a better look, “How ‘bout I let the best-looking ladies here in free tonight?”

  “Gracias, Papi.” Viv says to him, dropping a kiss on his cheek as he slaps 21 and up bracelets on our wrists. None of us are 21, but none of us are going to complain about getting in free and getting to order our own drinks. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad, after all. My mood is lifting, and I feel my body reacting to the music as soon as we walk through the door.

  “First stop, drinks!” Krysta yells over the pulsing music. I nod my head in agreement, not wanting to yell over the loud music.

  “What can I get for you, Beautiful?” A bartender asks loudly across the bar. He’s gorgeous. Tall, perfectly tan, and has dangerous gray eyes with lashes so thick, he looks like he’s wearing mascara. Damn. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s looking straight at Krysta who’s giving him her best, ‘I know you like what you see’ look, and it seems to be working. He slides the drinks she ordered across the bar just as quickly as she asks, and waves off her money.

  “Drinks are on me tonight. Just don’t forget who your favorite bartender is.” He says winking at her and flashing a smile that reveals teeth that are just as perfect as the rest of him. Of course they are. Krys grabs my arm and passes me my drink, a cherry vodka sour. I don’t miss the look she gives me, and I nod in agreement. That dude was sex on legs.

  “Where’s Viv? That guy’s fucking hot.” I yell into her ear.

  “Fuck me, yeah he is. She’s over there in the corner with Manny.” She sighs, contempt shrouding his name. Vivian’s got her back pressed against the wall and it looks like Manny is scolding her. Typical. You’d think he was her father or something. “I don’t know why she does it to herself. She’ll regret it in the morning.”

  “I know. She’s a big girl though. Let’s dance.” I down the rest of my drink and drop it on one of the bar height tables surrounding the dance floor. The alcohol courses through my vein, warming my insides. I feel the tight grip responsibility has on my chest loosen, and I sway to the floor with Krys hot on my heels.

  Vivian joins us at some point and we’re all grinding to the music. I close my eyes and let the deep bass vibrate in my soul as a strong Latin beat starts to play and Jennifer Lopez sings about not being somebody’s mama. Rolling my hips, I reach up and hold my hair off my neck. I’m sweating now, and I fan my face, happy with my decision to leave off the foundation.

  Vivian’s back, and she grabs my arm pulling me close enough to hear her, “Let’s grab a drink! Krys is occupied and doesn’t want to come.” She says motioning to Krysta and her new-found dance partner. What the hell happened to the bartender? I laugh and nod in agreement and we head off to the bar again with Krysta waving us off. We’re standing in the mob that has thickened around the bar waiting to get to the front when someone grabs my elbow. He’s tall with a mop of blond hair on his head, wearing a pair of crisp blue jeans and a powder pink polo with one side of his collar up. He has the ‘my daddy has money, so I do too, and I make rap music in my top-of-the-line studio’ look about him and he’s grinning down his too-straight nose at me. I look at his face, and then his eyes follow mine as I look down at his hand that’s gripping me.

  “Can I help you?” I ask in a snide tone, pulling my arm from his grip.

  “Maybe, but I know I can damn sure help you.” He says licking his lips and giving me a once over, rubbing his hands together. Gross. I take a step back and look to my left for Vivian, who’s lost in a sea of bodies at the bar
.

  “Let me buy you a drink, Girl,” he says putting his hands together and biting his lower lip like some teenage popstar. Guurl? Barf.

  I belt out a laugh and his demeanor changes immediately. Oops, don’t laugh at daddy’s boy.

  “Boy, no. I buy my own drinks.” I answer loudly over the music. He reaches out and grabs my arm more forcefully this time, and I try to yank it back again looking for Vivian, but he has a good grip above my elbow. His eyes have turned dark and his fingers are digging into my skin. It starts to hurt, and I raise my hand to slap him, and then he’s gone. What the—? He’s on the floor with a crowd circling around him and someone in a suit has a shiny, Italian leather shoe on Daddy Boy’s chest. Manny parts the crowd and picks him from the floor, yelling at him that he’s out and can’t come back.

  Mr. Suit turns to look at me and closes the space between us with his lethal body, his expensive suit straining against his movements. He’s not overly bulky, but the way his suit hugs his frame shows he spends time in the gym working to build and maintain muscle. I have no idea if the music is still playing anymore. I can’t even tell you if anyone’s still watching us. My air has vacated in a rush and I start to see stars before I suck more oxygen back in my burning lungs. His hand rests on my arm where finger prints are now visible on my skin, his cool fingers soothing the ache of the soon-to-be bruises. His eyes are dark; eerily close to black, and moody. Everything about him screams “run!” He’s beautiful though; if you could call a man that. His jaw is perfectly square and chiseled. His olive skin naturally deep and is smooth and free of stubble. Full lips beg for me to suck one in my mouth, I’ve never wanted to kiss a man so badly.

  I’m at a loss for words and when he starts to rub circles on my arm I follow the sensation with my eyes. I stare at his hand for too long before I crane my neck to look back up at his face. He’s got to be over six feet, even in my sky-high heels the top of my head reaches just below his shoulder. There’s amusement in his deep brown eyes that are lighter now that Daddy’s boy is gone, but his lips aren’t smiling. He exudes sex and my body screams for his touch to return when he drops his hand from my arm.