She's killing me.
With every swish of her hips and sway of her shoulders, she's driving me fucking crazy. Every time she lifts her arms above her head the hem of her dress hitches higher up her legs, and the usually unseen expanse of satin skin on her upper thighs is on full display. If anyone were to look close enough, they'd find a trail of bite-sized bruises on her inner thighs.
If she lifts her arms any higher she's going to show off more than I can handle, and when she glances at me over her shoulder, her eyes dark and playful, I have to take another long sip of whiskey to settle the energy buzzing through my veins. Her skin, lit up by the blush strobe lights flashing above the dance floor, glimmers like rose gold under the summer sun, and damn if I'm not tempted to take her outside, find a secluded spot behind this expensive-ass club, and pull that whisp of satin from her body just to watch the moonlight shimmer across her body like stardust while I fuck her to the steady rhythm she's been teasing me with as she dances to the beat of the song.
I release an agitated sigh at the realization that I don't have to take her out back to get a good look at her body, the scrap of fabric wrapped around her is barely covering her tits and ass. A rush of annoyance floods through me when I eye the crowd of guys lingering on the outside of the dance floor, their gazes bouncing between Josie and Olivia — who, while covered only slightly more than Josie, is dancing a hell of a lot more provocatively.
I'm almost glad for the distraction from Josie, though, glancing back at Tristan, I can sense that he's seconds away from throwing his little sister over his shoulder and marching her out of this club.
"Monday at nine-thirty."
Tristan, James, and I look up from the dance floor to watch Luke drop down on the other couch, his legs spread wide with a satisfied smile on his face. He leans forward and grabs a freshly uncapped beer before tilting the lip to James and taking a long, relieved pull of the alcohol.
"What?" James sits back, his eyes darting back down to Jenny for a second before meeting Luke's eyes.
"Your appointment with Dr. Reynolds, the top perinatologist in New York, is Monday at nine-thirty. My dad's assistant, Chauncey, will email you the details later tonight."
"Dr. Reynolds." James's face is pale, his widening as he watches Luke nod in confirmation. "You got us in with Dr. Reynolds."
"I tried to get her to come into the office sooner than Monday, but apparently she's on vacation with her family and said I was pushing my luck by calling her personal cell phone instead of contacting her office." He rolls his eyes, taking another long pull of his beer. "To which I reminded her that the last three medical trials she ran — and won an award for — were funded solely by my father's company." His lips pulled up into a ghost of a smile. "The same company I'm set to take over in the next few years. The company that may or may not be interested in their continued partnership with her."
"You blackmailed their new doctor?" Tristan shakes his head, but I can tell underneath the clear mask of disapproval, there's something that looks a hell of a lot like respect shining through. T might be a good man, but if there's anything he's willing to cross the line for, it's his family. He can respect that. And I imagine he'd do the same if he could. Especially if it were Ryan and his own baby in danger.
"I think that's technically extortion, with a sprinkle of blackmail, but I like to think of it as incentivizing their new doctor. I believe in transparent business partnerships and now she knows exactly what I expect from this." He shrugs as if he's telling us about a casual, completely legal business deal, but when he grins and tosses a peanut into his mouth, the facade slips away like smoke as he says, "Anything less than a healthy baby and mother won't bode well for her future research funding."
He bites down on the peanut like a gavel in a courtroom, and suddenly, I can see the man Luke's dad raised sitting right in front of me. The little boy who was sent away to boarding schools with all the other business heirs. They didn't just learn math and English and history, they learned how to be deceitful, how to be coniving, how to be cutthroat. They learned how to stay at the top and kick anyone who tries to usurp them in the teeth, to watch them fall with a sinister smile. They learned how to be the secret leaders of a world run by money.
And while Luke has run from that part of him for as long as I've known him, I can't deny that something...something feels intrinsically right about watching him lean into that part of him. The part of him that takes what's his and leaves nothing in his wake. The part that doesn't apologize. The part that would set the world on fire just to get what he wants.
"You're insane." James laughs — it's raspy and choked, and I grin at the man who's still blinking in shock, his cheeks slowly refilling with color as the reality begins to dawn on him. Jenny's going to see the best doctor in New York. She's going to be okay. Their baby — their baby is going to be okay.
"Yeah, probably. " Luke snorts, taking a slow pull of his beer. "Not much I can do about that, though. Genetics and shit, you know?" His lips twitch and I can't only imagine he's thinking about his dad. His narcissistic, psychopathic, piece of shit father.
"When are you putting a ring on her, anyway?" Luke asks, nodding toward the dance floor.
James leans forward, his elbows on his knees. His voice is softer as if she might somehow be able to hear all the way from the dance floor a floor below. "New Year's Eve. It's right before the baby is due and it's her favorite day of the year. She has something for new beginnings and midnight kisses." He smiles, laughing softly to himself. "I'm sure I'll come up with something romantic and cheesy about one last new beginning with me."
Luke and I groan dramatically at the same time, faking mutual disgust at the romantic line.
Tristan is grinning broadly at his best friend, slapping him soundly on the shoulder before wrapping his arm around him and pulling him into a headlock.
James manages to escape by elbowing Tristan in the stomach and scooting away, his smile bright as he dodges Tristan's rouge fist in retaliation.
"What about you, T?" James laughs, leaning back against the velvet cushions. His cheeks are flushed and eyes lighter than I've seen them all night. Not so heavy, not so weighed down by the possibility of losing Jenny, of losing their baby. "When are you proposing to Abby?"
"She still wearing that cheap ass promise ring you got her in Vegas?" Luke grins, glancing over his shoulder to spot Ryan dancing in the middle of the girls. Any rings on her finger are too far away to see from here, but knowing her, she's never taking the thing off.
"I tried to replace it with an actual promise ring, but she made me return it." He grins, his eyes distant as if recalling the moment she refused his ring. "Told me she loved that stupid ring that's already turning her skin green and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. And —" he glances over to the girls, still a floor below, and whispers just like James did. "I've had her engagement ring since the day I got my first NBA check. It's been sitting in a shoe box in my closet. I've been so tempted to pull it out so many times." He shakes his head as if having to physically shake the thought from his mind. "But I can't. Not yet. I'm waiting until she graduates. Until she won't have to give something up to say yes. I don't want her to have to pick between me and NYU. And I know if I propose she'd end up transferring to Tronto to finish school and I — I don't want to be the reason she gave up on her dreams early. I want her to have this. To graduate from her dream school, to live in the city with her best friends, to have the experience she's always dreamed of, and then I'll ask her. When she's ready to start a new chapter. When her dreams and mine align without either one of us having to give up a part of us. I want that for her, for us, and if that means I have to wait a few more years —" he sounds like the thought pains him, but he nods. "Then that's what I'm going to do. She's mine. She's been mine since the moment I danced with her at that formal. She knows that. She knows what's coming. It's just...timing."
"You know what's crazy," I laugh under my breath, glancing at my two old teammates, the two guys I've considered brothers for the past four years. "I knew the second you got with Jenny that it was game over for you. That she was the one. And —" I take a long sip of my whiskey, letting the warmth of the liquor coat my tongue before warming my throat. "I knew Ryan was the one for you before you even admitted you wanted her. I knew it the night of that formal. The night you had to wingman for James. The night he almost tried to make me go ask her to dance."
Tristan raises a curious brow, and I laugh at the shock on his face. "The way you looked at her, man. It was like you were looking at the stars for the first time. It was like you were seeing something brand new. Something that you didn't ever want to look away from. It was clear as fucking day for everyone who was watching. Everyone but you two."
He considers that for a moment before nodding, brushing his thumb across the lip of his beer bottle.
"I know that look," he murmurs, glancing up with a soft smile. "I saw it tonight."
He holds my stare and suddenly, I know exactly where this is going. "Josie. You love her, don't you?"
I drop my gaze to the nearly empty glass of whiskey and swirl the honey liquid, watching the blush-hued strobe lights catching on the glass, turning the golden drink red.
I realize there's no point in lying.
"Don't tell her."
It's a choked whisper. A raspy plea. And It's all I can say.
Luke props a foot on the coffee table, crossing his other at the ankle with the kind of smug smile that usually results in me punching him in the fucking kidney, but I'm too warm from the alcohol, my body too relaxed, and a glass or two too drunk to really care that he's grinning at me like I just admitted to something life-altering.
Maybe I did.
"Never thought I'd see the day that Micah Costa would finally fall." James snorts, his smile a mirror of Luke's.
"I did," T says, his eyes on me while I ignore the attention. I'm pretending to pick through the bowl of peanuts, silently pleading with myself to forget this conversation even happened when I wake up in the morning, when his next question has me knocking the bowl of peanuts onto the floor in surprise. "So when are you putting a ring on her finger?"
I choke on air as his words register and reach for my glass of whiskey, only to realize it's empty.
Fuck. My only source of comfort in this conversation has run dry.
Leaning back into my seat, I roll a peanut between my fingers and shake my head, trying to sound casual as I laugh at his question.
"No, no." I clear my throat, looking up. "I'm — we're not."
T doesn't answer, he simply raises a brow that I know is meant to say, What? You seriously mean to say you've never thought about it?
I force a cough just for something to do, and when Luke's smile fucking brightens at my discomfort, I lean forward and snatch his beer from him, downing the rest of it in a few seconds before dropping it onto the coffee table.
"I don't know. I mean, yeah. Yeah, maybe." A flash of Josie walking down the aisle blinds me momentarily. I could already see it — the white ribbon in her hair, the flowers, the long white dress trailing behind her, the cathedral she'd have bedecked in florals and lace, the sunshine that would follow her down the aisle like a guiding light. I could see it. I could see post-grad Josie smiling up at me as I hold out my hand to her. I could see myself in a fancy-ass suit that I could only dream of affording right now, a watch on my wrist, and a set of rings that my NBA salary paid for. I could see it all. And when I glance out to the dance floor, I can't stop myself from finally admitting that I could want that. I could want that with Josie. I could want the happily ever after that I've never let myself even consider.
"Yeah, I — yeah." I finally admit. "One day. Once I'm drafted and have money. Once I can buy her a studio and a house."
T is practically beaming at me, and I flip him off for it.
"My God, he's practically domesticated." Luke teases, tossing another peanut into his mouth. "Fuck, you all are. Am I the only one here with my balls still attached?"
I'm about to argue that if anyone here is whipped, it's him — cough flew out the girl who barely even looks at him just so he can earn a few brownie points that he's never allowed to actually cash in cough — but since Tristan is sitting right here, and I don't really feel like reffing another fight, I bite my tongue.
"Your timing is coming, young Padawan." James snorts.
Luke, who stole a fresh beer from West as he walked by, downed half of the contents before shaking his head. "Nah. I don't think that's in the cards for me, boys. I think my dad will find some well-bred girl from a rich family who has good connections and he'll expect me to marry her to further the family legacy. An heir and a spare later and I'll still be just as miserable as I am now." He smiles drunkenly, his eyes lingering on T for a moment before drowning the rest of the beer and sighing heavily as he stands up. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen."
He's drunk as fuck, but he knows how to hold his alcohol, which is why he's still able to pull out a convincing smile as he nods toward Thompson who's sitting at the bar talking to some guy as he passes. I catch the way he pulls off his baseball cap and runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration before sliding the cap back on and walking through the door to the bathroom.
"Should I be worried about him?" T asks, watching the swinging door of the bathroom that Luke just disappeared into.
I consider that. "I think he's falling apart and he's too proud to admit it. I think he's cracking under the pressure of his dad's expectations for him after he graduates. I think he's scared that he's going to disappoint Coach by admitting that he can't keep pushing his knee. I think he's scared that he's losing us." I meet Tristan's gaze, watching his eyes soften at the confession that I know my best friend would never willingly give. Just like me, he can't stand to be vulnerable. Not anymore. Not after getting hurt.
"This thing with Liv..." he glances back toward his sister and frowns. "Does he really want her or is he obsessed with her because she's off limits? Because she's something that he can't have?"
"I think that's a question for Luke," I admit, knowing that nothing I could possibly say would sway T. He needs to hear it from Luke. He needs to know how much he cares about Olivia. "And I think reconsidering the situation might be best for everyone involved. She —" I hesitate. "I think she loves him."
"I know she does." He sighs. "That's the problem."
I don't even try to follow that logic, and I don't know if it's because a new wave of intoxication has hit me, or because he's being purposely cryptic, but I have a feeling his feelings on the matter haven't changed. Not at all.
Glancing out at the dance floor, my eyes catch on the glimmer of scarlet. Josie seems to feel my gaze because she looks up at me, her cheeks flushed and skin tinted with a slight sheen of sweat. The sight alone is enough to make my cock twitch painfully against the zipper of my pants, and I think she can tell because her lips twitch as she holds back her smile and lowers her gaze to her body, exaggerating her movements as they stay in sync with the quick staccato of the song, never missing a beat as she rubs the sides of her thighs before slowly dragging them upward, lifting the hem off her dress as she goes.
The air catches in my throat as I watch, my shoulders tense, elbows on my knees, feet planted firmly on the floor as I inch forward on the couch, preparing to stand and jump this fucking balcony if I need, just to keep her dress firmly on her body.
She bites down on her bottom lip at my reaction, letting the fabric slip down only slightly before slowly — so fucking slowly — moving her hands up over her hips and the slender slope of her stomach. Her hem is still brushing her upper thighs, and when she moves her hands over her tits, she looks away from me, but I catch the smug smile from her profile when she squeezes her breasts softly, inconspicuously, before lifting her hands to her neck where they slide into her hair and she drops her head back, swaying her hips in slow circles.
I choke on a sip of my whiskey, recognizing the distinct movements of her hips as the movements I taught her last night when she rode my cock for the first time. With my hands on her hips, I guided her into the different rhythms, showing her how to arch her back, rotate her hips, and use her legs to hit the spots that sent her over the edge three times last night. And that was before I flipped her onto her back and fucked her until her whole body was slick with a similar sheen of sweat.
She has her back to me, rocking her hips to the music while she intertwines her fingers with Olivia's. Her dress rises dangerously high as she goes up on her tiptoes, lifting their connected hands above so she can twirl Olivia under her arm before pulling her close again and dancing with mirroring smiles on their faces.
I slide my hand back into my pocket, threading my fingers through the lace.
When Olivia looks up at the balcony where we're sitting, her eyes linger on a spot behind my shoulder where I'm sure Luke is walking back out of the bathroom, and when he finally drops back down onto the couch, her smile turns devious as she leans down and whispers in Josie's ear.
I don't have to see her face to know that she's shocked. The tensing of her shoulders and instant jerk of her head to look up at Olivia was telltale enough. When Josie finally glances over her shoulder, I catch her eyes and raise a brow at her flaming cheeks. She's blushing so hard I can see the flush touch her neck and ears, and when she looks back up at Olivia she nods tentatively, biting down on her lip.
Olivia beams before masking her excitement into a sensual smile — an act, a performance I realize that's meant just for me and Luke when Liv and Josie glance back up at us before meeting each other's eyes. Olivia brushes her thrumb across the satin fabric of Jo's dress, slowly, as if she's genuinely curious to touch it. When her hand slips to her waist and pulls her closer, the air in my lungs freezes. Josie reaches up and tucks a curl behind Liv's ear, and I know Luke has noticed when his legs twitch unconsciously, his eyes locked on the girls with a dazed expression.
Liv leans down and whispers something in Josie's ear and Josie nods, her cheeks flaming again as Liv leans down and brushes her lips across Josie's collarbone, up her neck, and across her cheek. She takes her time, nipping and sucking and pressing soft kissing to Josie's skin, her hands tugging on the fabric of Josie's dress to pull her closer until finally — fucking, finally — she connects their lips.
I readjust myself, spreading my legs and draping my arm across my crotch to try to conceal my hard-on, but there's really no use. My cock is pressing painfully against my pants, and when Josie opens her mouth and Olivia's tongue slides inside, I'm a fucking goner.
Josie's hands are tangled in Olivia's curls, and one of Olivia's hands is slowly traveling up Josie's ribs towards her tits. When she finally cups her breast, she brushes her thumb across the hardened peak and smiles into the kiss, cupping Josie's cheek with her other hand to kiss her deeper.
Tristan and James both have their heads bent over their phones, murmuring back and forth about a contract that apparently just came through. Tristan hasn't spotted his little sister yet, and a part of me hopes he won't look up from his phone just so I can see how far this little exhibition is going to go.
It's a show, one meant for me and Luke, but I'm also fully aware of how genuinely turned on Josie is right now. Being watched, she'd admitted in that podcast. She really fucking likes to be watched — by me.
T and James have apparently caught on to the soft core porno taking place on the dance floor because Tristan's angry cursing is a distant echo from across the couch. I can just barely make out a mention of him locking his sister up until she's forty before all rational thought is shattered again.
When Olivia breaks the kiss to suck on Josie's neck, a pair of molten honey eyes connects with mine and the flicker of desire quickly catches too much kindling, setting fire to another emotion entirely. Jealousy.
I've shared girls before. Plenty of times, actually. But this, this doesn't feel like that.
And when I stand up and walk to the balcony, leaning my forearms against the steel bar, my jaw tightens and eyes narrow as I watch Olivia slowly drop her hands and step away from the kiss, I slide my hand into my pocket and finger the lace. I can already hear her hushed whimpers in my ear, the pleas, the breathy moans, and the orgasm I don't plan on letting her have until she looks me in the eye and tells me what I'm dying to hear right now.
That she's mine.
Mine.
She catches the look on my face and her cheeks flush an even darker hue, finally matching the scarlet of her dress. When she glances around, her shoulders relax at the realization that none of the other girls in the group noticed the display of pure fucking seduction. James, who clears his throat and stands up, walking toward the balcony just to put some space between himself and T, who looks like he might combust any second, nods toward the door when he finally catches Jenny's eye.
She pouts but doesn't argue as she grabs Nia and Abby's hands and points toward the stairs.
"I need to get Jenny back to the hotel. She needs to lie down." James glances at his watch. "It's almost one-thirty. We haven't been out this late since we found out she was pregnant. You guys are staying at the Bellmonte right?"
I nod, distantly remembering Luke mentioning that name to the private driver when he asked where to drop off our luggage. We're here until tomorrow evening when his dad's plane is set to take us back to Pullman.
"Tristan mentioned something about us all going out tomorrow afternoon. You know anything about that?"
I keep my eyes on Josie, her fingers intertwined with Halle's as she follows Olivia out of the crowd toward the stairs. My jaw tightens as I watch her get shoved and knocked aside by the drunken idiots too fucking sloshed to see her coming. I want to go down and get her myself, but she reaches the safety of the stairs a few seconds later and I relax a little as I watch her climb the stairs slowly, her knuckles white as she clutches the railing with one hand, her drunken steps wobbly. Blondie, who seems to be even drunker than Josie, has Josie's other hand in a death grip, her eyes locked on the stairs like she's scared they're going to move under her feet.
James knocks my arm with his elbow lightly, raising a brow.
"Hmm?"
"Do you know what Luke has planned for us tomorrow?" he asks again, glancing down at his watch. "Me and T and planning on waking up at eight to hit the gym but Luke said we need to be ready to leave the hotel at eleven for something he set up. You know what he's talking about?"
I shake my head. "I didn't even know I was coming here tonight. I have no fucking idea what he has planned."
"About tomorrow?" Tristan stops beside James, running a tense hand through his hair. He's watching Ryan walk across the lounge toward him, his expression softening significantly. "Luke said something about a track. Knowing him, he's dragging us to the horse races or whatever else the wealthy elite do in their spare time."
I don't bother to hide my fucking scowl.
My dad lost most of his money at casinos and horse races. I'd rather not spend my birthday — or the day after — watching the sad fucks around me do the same.
"Are you headed back to the hotel now?" T asks, sliding his hand into his pocket to grab his phone. He glances down at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly when he catches the time. "Room service ends at 2:30 and I'd like to keep Abby up long enough to get some more food into her."
I raise a brow at that.
"What's going on with Ryan?"
James glances away, fixing his watch uncomfortably while Tristan exhales slowly. He looks up at me, considering me for a moment before he glances over to make sure Ryan's out of earshot as he says, "There's a group of girls who have been targeting her online. They were commenting on any pictures I had of her on my Instagram, calling her fat, ugly, a gold-digging whore." His hands slide across the balcony railing, tightening until his knuckles bleached. "I didn't realize it at first. I don't look at comments or any of that shit. But then I found her crying in the shower one weekend and it took forever to get her to tell me what was wrong. Once she did, I went on and found the comments she was talking about. There were so many of them."
My brows rise as I glance over his shoulder at Ryan by the bar drinking ice water with the girls. She has her arms wrapped around herself like she's trying to keep her body covered in her dress. The dress that's hanging off her like it's a size too big for her.
"Apparently, this kind of thing is normal. A lot of the guys on my team said their girls' have to deal with the same shit. So I turned off my comments and I check her phone every now and then just to make sure she's not purposely looking for things about herself. There were a few accounts made about her and some of the other girls. They'd screenshot her pictures and just fucking tear into them. The nastiest fucking comments I've ever seen. No matter how many times I try to get them taken down they just keep on popping up. And ever since I caught her crying in the shower it's just escalated. She started skipping meals and lying about it, it got to the point where she fucking fainted in one of her classes."
My body heats, a flash of fucking rage boiling through me.
"She's doing better though. We FaceTime for dinner every night, and she usually has breakfast with one of the girls, so I know she's eating at least two meals a day. But even though she's eating more I can still see the uncertainty in her eyes. They fucked with her head, and no matter how many times I try to convince her that they're wrong, it's like those voices are too loud for her to hear me."
My throat feels tight, painfully tight as I grab his shoulder and squeeze. "I'm sorry, T. What can I do?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing, just — just be easy with her for a while. I know you like to joke around, to be a jackass with her, but just take it easy. And maybe play a fucking round of Words with Friends every now and then."
I snort, mirroring his smile as he shoves me playfully.
"Where is she anyway? We really do need to get back so I can bleach my eyes."
Luke mumbles something under his breath and Tristan backhands him in the chest, glaring.
"I wasn't the one who touched her tonight." He rubs his chest with a scowl. "Why don't you keep that same energy with Josie? See how that works out for you."
I exhale roughly in a semblance of a laugh, but the threat is evident enough when I meet T's gaze. Not that he ever would be an asshole to Josie — or to anyone, really — but if he did think about it, for even a second, he needs to know that that's where my line is.
Joke around with me, tease me, fling hollow insults at me the way we always do to each other, but if he says even a single thing to Josie that steals the smile off her face, we're going to have an issue.
"I think I drank a little too much. The room is spinning." Ryan narrows her eyes as she walks into Tristan's arms. "Can you set my alarm for nine? I can't remember my passcode." She digs her hands through her purse until she finds purchase on her cell phone and hands it to Tristan.
He grins as he sets the alarm. "Why are you getting up so early? You usually sleep until I get back from the gym when we're away for games."
"The girls are getting brunch in the morning at the hotel restaurant." When she smiles, a little flicker of that warmth in her eyes returns. "Thanks for bringing Josie. I mean, of course you were going to bring your girlfriend on your birthday trip, but I'm glad it was Josie. I'm glad your girlfriend is Josie. I'm glad that you fell for her, out of everyone in the world, I'm glad you choose her."
She's drunk as hell right now, slurring her words, but I can sense the genuine excitement in her voice. I reach out and pinch her arm playfully, and her smile widens as she swats my hand away.
"I'm glad it's Josie too, Ryan." I nod, catching Josie hurrying across the lobby, trying to hide behind Nia. When she catches me tracking her as she goes, her eyes widen and her cheeks burn as she makes a beeline for the bathroom.
"You mind if me and Luke come to the gym with you guys in the morning? Coach will kill us if we skip out."
T nods, grabbing his coat from the back of the couch and sliding it over Ryan's shoulders.
"Yeah, of course, meet us there by eight."
I nod, slapping his outstretched hand before wrapping Ryan in the kind of lung-crushing embrace she always gives me. I hold her close for a few heartbeats, wishing there was something I could do to protect her, to shield her from all the bullshit, and when I finally release her, she beams up at me and cups my cheeks.
"You be good to Josie, okay? She's — she's good. Genuinely, genuinely good. To her core. And I need to know you're going to protect that part of her."
I want to roll my eyes, to tell her that I'd sooner walk in front of a firing squad than ever hurt Josie again, but instead, I sigh and nod. "I plan on it, Ryan."
She pats my cheek — pretty fucking hard for it to be a sweet gesture, but I'm assuming that's because she's tipsy — and turns on her heel, corralling Jenny and Nia toward the doors. T offers me one last grin before following his girl out the back exit.
Halle and Olivia are sitting on the couch, trying — and failing — to inconspicuously spy on Thompson who's sitting at the bar shooting his shot with a Ryan Reynolds look alike. Cooper and West, are climbing the stairs, and based on their sweaty shirts clinging to their bodies, I have a feeling they were down in the crowd dancing the whole night. The lipstick trailing from West's lips to his neck is a clear indication that he had a good night, regardless of where he spent it.
"Chauncey just texted, the car is on the way now to bring us back to the hotel. We leave in ten."
Sliding my hands into my pockets, I take a step back, nodding toward the bar when Luke glances over at me. He doesn't think twice before looking back toward Olivia and Halle, heading over to the couch opposite them to kick up his feet on the coffee table.
I turn on my heel and walk casually to the bar before making an inconspicuous turn toward the bathrooms. Pushing open the swinging door, I meet her eyes through the mirror as she washes her hands, keeping her gaze locked on mine while she turns off the faucet and dries her hands.
"You're killing me, you know that, right?" My voice, taut and strangled, echoes through the bathroom as the door swings shut behind me. Aside from the crinkle of the paper towel in her hand as she grips it harder, the entire room is silent. The muted music outside is barely a hum, though I can still feel the base of it through the soles of my shoes, sending rhythmic vibrations through my body. "You're actually shaving years off of my fucking life, Josie."
"It was just a kiss," she murmurs, though she takes a step back until her back hits the counter and she drops the crumpled napkin, her eyes locked on mine. "I thought you'd like it."
A crimson blush reddens her cheeks, and I watch her skin flush deeper with every step I take toward her. "I thought..." She swallows hard, her palms splaying flat on the lux granite countertop as if trying to keep her balance. "I thought you'd like to see me like that. With someone else — with another girl. That's what you used to like, right? What you used to have. Girls who — girls like that."
I raise a brow at that, catching the undertone of self-doubt buried deep in the confession.
When I finally reach her, I lean forward, placing my hands on the countertop beside hers, and lean down until my lips skim her jaw. Grazing my teeth against the sensitive spot just under her ear, I murmur, "If you're asking me if I liked it —" I grind my cock against her hip and smile at her sharp inhale. "If you're asking if that's what you have to do to be with me — to keep me interested, to make me want you, then you really have no fucking idea how deep this is for me, Josie. I'm in so deep I can barely keep my head above water with you. I'm drowning in you, and fuck if it's not the best damn thing I've ever experienced. It's you. It's you that I want to wake up next to, that I want to fall asleep with cuddled in my arms, that I want to do my homework with, and watch ridiculous fucking TV shows with, that I want to fuck day and night every hour in between. It's you that turns me on. Here, in this ridiculous excuse of a dress, or at home in your pajamas, in my bed without any clothes — which is my favorite, might I add —, or in that god-awful fluffy robe you wear after the shower. It's you — it's fuck, Jos, it's everything about you. I don't want you to be like the other girls, Josie, because the other girls never made me feel the way you do. Not even close. Not even in the same universe. The other girls were nameless bodies, faces forgotten before I could button my pants, and I know that's fucked to admit, but it's true." I pull back enough to watch her eyes soften. "If you want to give me a goddamn heart attack by making out with Olivia Beck in the middle of a dance floor, do it because you want to, not because you want to live up to some imaginary standard or expectation that you think I have." I brush my thumb along the line of her jaw, leaning down just enough to whisper against her lips, "Because this, you being here with me, this is all I could ever ask for. This is all I could ever need."
I grab her chin and kiss her softly.
Until the taste of raspberry rum coats my tongue and the image of Olivia feeling up my girlfriend while her tongue explored her mouth pops into my head again. A low groan vibrates deep in my throat, and I lean down, grab her thighs, and hoist her up onto the counter, stepping between her thighs.
She doesn't seem to mind, and instead of pulling away or warning me that we're in a public bathroom, she moans into my mouth and threads her fingers through my hair, tugging me closer.
I break the kiss, nudging her cheek with my nose to press kisses down her throat, and when my hand slides up her dress, I'm reminded that her panties are already in my pocket. She's — fuck, she's so wet her thighs are slick, and as I ease a finger into her, she drops her head back and moans loud enough to send a rush of heat down my spine.
I want to taste her. I want to get onto my knees and lick her until she's begging. I want to feel her pulse against my tongue. But we don't have much time here, and if this is going to work, I need to hurry the fuck up.
Gripping her thighs, I pull her off the counter and twist her around, pinning her down against the counter before unbuckling my pants and pulling my cock out. We've been shit about using condoms, but she's on the pill and I'm too damn drunk on the girl to give a fuck. Resting her cheek against the cool surface of the counter, her breathing hitches when I lift her dress over the swell of her ass and line myself up.
"Micah, the door — lock the door!" she eyes the lock on the bathroom door through the mirror, and I can't hide my wicked smile as I thrust into her.
"Nah, I don't think I will." I slide my hand across her ass, slapping her just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as I thrust deep, bottoming out. Her eyes widen before rolling back, and when she moans loud enough to echo through the bathroom, I groan in approval.
Being inside of her feels like fucking heaven. Like actually fucking heaven, because goddamn I can't imagine anything else could feel this good. Her hands are gripping the counter, her knuckle turning white with each rough, hurried thrust, and when I slide my hand along her spine, up the back of her neck, and into her hair, her breath catches as I pull her head up from the counter until she's meeting my gaze in the mirror. Her eyes keep flicking toward the door and I know the thrill of possibly getting caught is turning her on more than she'd ever admit. When she meets my gaze again, her cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of her clipped breaths turns into a whimper.
I lean forward, keeping eye contact with her in the mirror as I murmur, "It's you, Jos. It's you. Always you. Only you. You see how fucking gorgeous you are? You see how much I want you? How fucking crazy I am for you?"
I lean down and bite her neck, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave a bruise. "Mine," I murmur against the blooming bruise. "You're mine, baby. Mine." I thrust harder, rougher until her hand is pressed against the mirror just to keep her balanced.
"Yours," she whispers, eyes rolling back in her head. "Always, always yours."
"That's right, baby." I suck on her neck, smiling at the fluttering of her pulse.
"And whose am I?" I murmur gently.
"Mine," she smiles, rolling her head back to rest her cheek against my chest, her impending orgasm nearly hitting its peak. "All mine."
She comes on my cock like clockwork, and when she collapses against the counter, body trembling and breath heaving, I buck my hips harder until I chase my high right over the edge with her.
"Happy birthday, bebé," she murmurs softly, her eyes closed and cheek resting against the countertop as she tries to catch her breath.
Her lips pull into a dazed smile and I have a feeling those cocktails she was downing with Olivia are finally catching up with her. When she nuzzles her face against the countertop and sighs happily, I reach for a paper towel and wipe my cum off her thighs before tossing it into the trashcan and fixing her dress.
"Come on Sleeping Beauty, you can sleep in the car."
Placing a kiss on her shoulder, I realize she's not going anywhere when her knees buckle before she even stands up. She giggles — fucking giggles — and holds her hand out for me. "I think I'm high. I think I'm orgasm-high right now, Micah. Is that a thing?"
I smile, interlacing my fingers with hers as I tug her to me, swiping her up into my arms before she can tumble over.
"I think you're drunk, Jos."
"I think so, too," she whispers, lacing her fingers through the hair at my nape and resting her cheek on my shoulder. "But it's okay, you'll take care of me."
I walk through the lounge, nodding toward Luke who's standing at the back exit of the VIP section waiting for us. When I step out onto the city street, I tighten my hold on her and brush my thumb across the exposed skin on her thigh, smiling at the smallest ripple of goosebumps that follow the touch.
"Always, Jos. Always."