He sees it coming, though, and ducks through the door, letting it shatter against the wood, shards of glass raining down on the stained oak floor.
“Really?” Seb hisses. “Was that necessary?”
“Imagine if it was Demi,” I spit. It’s a low blow, bringing up his dead little sister, but fuck. I’ve got Calli in the same box as my little sisters, so I know he would have too if life had turned out differently.
“Fair point. You’re an arsehole for bringing it up though.” He shrugs, swallowing down shot after shot.
“You can break his rules now if you really wanna get your dick sucked so bad.”
He stares at me, lowering the bottle slowly.
“And you don’t?”
My lips part to agree, but I quickly remember one massive difference between us.
“You’ve got a girl who’ll drop to her knees without so much as blinking. Mine is more likely to bite it off if I get her down there.”
He snorts a laugh. “You might have a point, but I’m pretty sure she’s as desperate for it as you are.”
I shrug, images of her writhing on her bed, moaning my name the last night playing out in my mind and making my dick twitch.
“You need to shower first. You might deserve a victory blow job for your win, but no one wants that sweaty thing in their mouth.”
“Fuck you, man. It’s like fucking roses down there.”
Seb lifts a brow at me.
“Whatever,” I mutter.
We all showered after the game, but I didn’t do anywhere near a good enough job to go out and hopefully end up in bed with a naked Emmie.
Pushing from the sofa with my bottle in hand, I pad toward the room I was left with after Seb and Alex both claimed theirs first, and swing the door closed behind me, cutting off Seb’s smug laugh.
I’m hardly surprised to hear the main door to the hotel suite slam shut not two seconds later.
“Fucking sex addict,” I mutter to myself, placing my bottle on the bedside table, I shed my sweats and shirt. But instead of marching straight toward the shower, I fall back on the bed as I try to get my head on straight.
She’s here. She came. And this is meant to be the best fucking weekend of the year.
So why do I have an irritating sinking feeling in my belly like something is going to go very, very wrong?
Because you refuse to believe anything good can happen to you at this point.
Blowing out a breath, I shove my fingers into my hair and pull until pain shoots down my spine. That and the lingering images of Emmie last night makes all the blood in my body head south.
Could tonight be the night I’m able to get her back where she belongs?