Casing ✔️

Chapter 16

If that didn't sober me up, I didn't know what would. It was like the room became clearer, like the shock washed away at least a third of the alcohol I'd had. And then I realized those stupid fluffy things I'd eaten at Hennie's place probably weren't enough to keep me from getting stupidly drunk.

I needed water. And I needed food. But first, I echoed, "The enemy?"

James' eyes searched mine. "The enemy," he confirmed. "I don't want you, or your friends, to get too friendly with him."

"So you aren't...jealous?" I just wanted to confirm that whatever was happening, was actually happening. Not that he had any reason to be jealous at all, but I was still drunk, and I'd still spent time with another guy, and James was again and again challenging everything I'd ever believed about the men who worked with dad.

"I can be, if you'd like that," he said, smiling down at me, "but how could I be jealous of what's already mine?"

My knees were suddenly wobbly, threatening to give in and let me fall. Traitorous knees.

"You don't have any reason to be anyway," I muttered, "because I kept comparing you in my head, and you made a clean sweep."

I wasn't sure why I said it out loud when I meant to just think it, but by the way his face brightened, I didn't exactly regret it.

James leaned closer, his body flush against mine. The vibrations from the club downstairs made its way through the wall and into my veins, making it even harder to focus on what we were actually talking about; Marius was the enemy, somehow. I needed to remind myself about that over and over, until my mind stopped begging me to kiss James and feel his very hard abdomen with my itching fingers.

"You're squirmy when you're drunk, baby," James whispered. His cheek ran across mine and I sucked in a breath. He was probably right. "I like it. And if you promise me you'll try to stay away from your...ex...I'll let you do all the exploring you want with these," he continued, his fingers wrapping around mine in a gentle yet affirmative grip.

It was as if he could read my thoughts. Or maybe I'd said some of them out loud without realizing it? I had no idea, and honestly, I didn't want to know either.

All I could utter was, "I promise," while he brought my fingers up and kissed each tip gently, his eyes set on me the whole time.

Holy mother of anything good in this world, he was hot. And he was so gentle, even if all I could feel in my entire body was the obvious control he had over everything I felt. He probably knew exactly what he was doing to me, and that only made the fire inside me even bigger.

"Alright, then." He kissed my cheek. His lips were so soft I was a little startled, and then the world spun around us, and I was suddenly on his lap, on one of the red velvet couches, and he was looking up at me with his dimples on display. "I'll probably ask you again, when you're sober, but that'll do for now."

His big hands guided mine towards his chest, planted them there, and they'd already grown roots by the time he moved to lean both his arms on the backrest of the couch. My mind was going a mile a second. All the words and things that made up my whole existence confused me, intrigued me and made me feel alive all at once.

I was free, I reminded myself. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, and right then and there, I wanted to touch James Davis' hard torso. If there was anyone else there, I didn't care—I didn't even check before my fingers tightened above his white shirt, and started to move around.

His pectorals were firm and defined. As were the abs. The shoulder muscles, and his biceps and triceps. The man worked out, and, well, that reminded me of how easily he lifted me up and carried me upstairs just moments ago.