“Should be good to move in tomorrow. Hazel will finish up security in the morning.”
If it weren’t for his inability to accept life as my fucktoy, we could have had fun living in the same building again. Especially without my dad’s heavy presence weighing us down.
Watching the corded muscles in his arms contract as he rubs his stubble makes my pussy scream with need. The man is gorgeous, but there are too many strings with Breckin Reynolds, and I can’t afford to allow our old game to start again.
“If she’s not hungover or too dick-blissed, I think you mean.”
When his brows pinch together, I smirk. I chuckle and pat Breckin’s chest.
“I know she’s fucking Donovan, Breck, now let’s move.”
Breckin pushes off the door and allows me to pass. He quietly follows behind me as we make our way to meet Donovan and Hazel in the foyer. His eyes are heavy on me while we walk through the halls, and it’s been far too long since I’ve been railed.
This is going to be a challenge in itself.
THE EMERALD IS PACKED, as usual. Being a weekend during the holiday season, people are crowding in. I’m sure the place is overcapacity, and that’s how I like it; somewhere to shine and draw as much attention as possible.
Breckin drove us in his truck so that I could pregame on the way over here. The alcohol is already warming my blood and burning away the burdens I’m carrying. Despite the number of people in the club tonight, people give us a wide enough berth so we can easily make our way to the bar.
There’s something to be said for power, the way it exudes and demands respect and attention. Not a single person in this club knows who I am, but every eye watches us walk to the bar. We command this room, and, even though they don’t know why they’re drawn to it.
A few hours into our night out, I’ve turned my light buzz into alcoholic bliss. Breckin has stayed close, rubbing his body against me and handing me refills the second I finish a drink. I lost count a while ago.
I know it’s the alcohol, but I can’t bring myself to care about his body so close to mine. The subtle brushes of his skin against mine, the whispers in my ear. Eventually, I let him whisk me away toward the dance floor.
The feel of him behind me as our bodies grind against each other. His hands rub down my naked arms and wrap around my waist as he pulls me close. But when I let my head fall onto Breckin’s shoulder, allowing us to get lost in the music's rhythm, I close my eyes, and the memory of Liam assaults my mind.
All the years I’ve spent encasing myself in an impenetrable shield, a shield I protect and reinforce with rage and anger, only for Liam to easily find the weakness in the foundation and seep his way in.
Alcohol doesn’t burn away his memory.
The touch of another man only brings it forth.
I allow some sense to snap me out of my daze; I straighten and pull away from Breckin. The alcohol is fighting against me, coaxing me to give in and give myself to Breckin again. To start over, the thing between us I finally got away from. All because of a moment of weakness.
I turn to face Breckin, and he reaches out to pull me back into him, but I slap his hands away. My hands are shaky from my overly conflicted mind.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask, stepping into him.
Breckin steps back, putting his hands up. I know my words are too slurred to pack much heat, but he’s sober enough to feel the indignation.
“Did you think you could come and try to win yourself back into my bed?”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly annoyed by my sudden mood swing.
“I expected you to rip into me tomorrow morning instead.”
He gives me a tight smile. His knuckles brush my cheek, tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. I’m glad you quit and got away from that fucker.”
That fucker.
Before I can send my fist through this fucker’s face, a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind. The body is solid, and with the delay from the alcohol, it takes a minute to realize this isn’t Donovan pulling me away from his best friend.
I allow my flailing to stop, going stiff against the hardness wrapped around me. Fighting against the instinct to lean into the warmth and smell of leather.
“Let it go, Little Warrior,” the familiar voice whispers. Liam’s lips brush against the soft spot under my ear, sending a violent shudder throughout my traitorous body.