Hot breath kisses my neck, a shiver of anticipation dancing down my spine. “You’re about to be next, somewhere a fuckload more private, and with my handprint tattooed on your ass. So if I were you, I’d quit laughing.” There’s a quick, sharp slap to my left ass cheek before Garrett struts by me, turns around, and calls out, “Found ’em!”
“Ollie!” Carter skids onto the dance floor, breathless. He looks down at Olivia, his gaze heating by the moment. “Ollie,” he murmurs. “Baby, you look fucking—”
“You fuckers.” Adam wraps me in a hug, smothering a compliment I don’t need to hear. “You had us all over the city.”
“It was Cara’s idea,” I say, hugging Jaxon next. “We’re just the innocent bystanders.”
Jaxon unbuttons his collar, eyes coasting over the club. “And I appreciate it.” He grins down at me. “I need to blow off some steam tonight.”
“Assuming that’s code for get laid?”
That grin keeps growing, and he holds his hand out. “Wanna dance?”
I meet Garrett’s narrowed gaze over his shoulder. “Love to.”
Tattooed, my big guy mouths before I disappear with Jaxon.
I’ve grown to like Jaxon, and it hasn’t taken much. Is he still a bit of an egotistical ass? Yes. Is he exceptionally horny? Who isn’t? But he’s friendly and easy, and there’s something quiet about him that keeps me talking to him. Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt a bit like the outsider within this group, and when he came along, he felt it too. He was accepted without hesitation, the same way I was, but sometimes I wonder if he questions his place here, the same as me.
“Does Andersen look pissed to you? He looks pissed to me.”
Garrett has one elbow on the bar as he sips a sparkling lemon water, stare set on us. But does he look pissed? He looks like he’s going to take what he wants as many times as he wants tonight before he finally gives me what I want; that’s how he looks. Either way, sounds like a great night. Can’t wait.
“You know what else I’ve noticed about that guy?” Jaxon brings my attention back to him. “He drinks when we’re on road trips and stuff, or if the guys go out together, but whenever you’re around, he only drinks sparkling water.”
I’ve noticed, too, though we’ve not once talked about it since that night we shared our first kiss. Garrett never touches a drop when we’re together, even if we’re out with everyone else. He used to have a six-pack stowed in his fridge, but now it’s hot chocolate or bust. Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a beer bottle there.
“He’s a supportive friend,” is what I tell Jaxon.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty good guy.” The song ends, and Jaxon takes my hand, leading me off the dance floor. “Even if he does look like he wants to murder me. Maybe Cara was right.”
“Right about what?”
“That he’s got a crush on you. She said so on New Year’s Eve.”
I stumble over my own two feet, and a large hand lands on my lower back, catching me. Garrett steadies me, then guides me into our private booth, sliding in behind me.
Jaxon arches a brow, looking between us.
“There’s something seriously wrong with you if you believe everything that woman says,” Garrett finally says. He nods in the direction of the woman in question, who happens to be in her husband’s lap, hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth. “C’mon, Riley.”
Jaxon chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a seat across from us. “Fuck, yeah, you’re right. Cara can’t be trusted.”
Cara flashes her middle finger over her shoulder.
Carter, Adam, and Olivia join us a moment later, Carter with a tray of various drinks and a food menu—priorities—and Adam half supporting a quickly failing Olivia. She looks to be both coming down from her sugar high and regretting her decision to wear heels.
An hour later, I haven’t moved from my spot, and I’m having the time of my life. It’s perhaps partly due to the unholy amount of sexual frustration rolling off the man next to me as he reads each text I send him without being able to outwardly react.
Me: Should I ride Indiana Bones tonight, or your face?
Me: God, I can’t stop thinking about your tongue on my pussy. I love when you make me your meal.
Me: Maybe we can try that little glass plug tonight while I suck your cock.
Me: If you slipped your hand between my legs right now, you’d find out how wet I am.
Garrett’s fist clenches so hard around his glass, I’m worried it might shatter. He sets it down and furiously types out a response.
Bear: How wet are you, sunshine? Don’t leave out any details and I’ll go easy on you tonight.
Me: What if I don’t want you to go easy on me, big guy?
Bear: How. Wet. Are. You?
Me: So drenched, you’d be able to slide right in.
Garrett leaps to his feet, accidentally shoving Adam out of the booth. “Bathroom!” he shouts. “Gotta go. Pee. Bye. See ya.”
I suppress my laugh as he dashes off, and the rest of the guys follow to grab more drinks. They’re not gone more than thirty seconds when a tall, lean man with dark curls approaches, his deep brown eyes friendly and set on me. Nerves pull at my skin, and I cross one leg over the other, busying myself with my drink.
“Hi there,” he says, stopping at the edge of the booth. “I’m—”
“Oh my God!” Olivia comes alive, clapping her hands. “You’re Alejandro Perez!” She squeals, fists shaking beneath her chin. “Jennie, he’s the—”
“Midfielder from the Vancouver Whitecaps,” Alejandro finishes, laughing.
“So sorry. I’m fangirling a bit. I played soccer growing up and—”
“Soccer?” Cara sips her drink. “Thank God. You said midfielder and I was like, ‘I haven’t heard of that hockey position before. Which one of our guys plays it?’”
Alejandro’s still grinning. He’s got a great one, wide and toothy, but it’s not goofy and lopsided like Garrett’s. He holds his hand out, and I slip mine in simply because I don’t know what else to do. “And who are you?”
“Jennie,” I answer quietly, meeting Garrett’s curious gaze as he approaches.
“Excuse me.” He steps between me and Alejandro, sliding in next to me, extra close.
“Oh.” Alejandro examines the proximity of our bodies. “Are you two…？”
I look at Garrett. He looks at me. It’s Cara who answers the question.
“No, our Jennie here is single as a Pringle. Isn’t that right, Gare-Bear?”
Garrett’s gaze lingers before he drops it, sipping his water, and I don’t know why, but when he murmurs, “Right,” my stomach dips, heavy with disappointment.
“Cool.” Alejandro extends his hand. “Hey, you’re Garrett Andersen, right? Right-winger for the Vipers? I’m a big fan.”
Garrett shakes his hand, giving him a smile that seems a little tight to me. “Right back ’atcha. The guys and I already have tickets for your home opener.”