In typical drunk girl fashion, four girls were shaking what God gave them on top of the pool table. One of them laughed, or maybe they all did—it was difficult to distinguish—but only one of their laughs hit me in the chest.
I did a double take, coming to a sudden halt, my head whipping back inside the game room to the pool table.
What the fuck?
“Mads?” I whispered, blinking, positive I was seeing shit, but I hadn’t drunk that much, and unless someone dosed my beer, then…
She wouldn’t have come to the party, right?
Then I remembered who her roommates were.
Son of a bitch.
Brock’s head whirled beside me, his gaze zeroing in on Josie. Like me, his expression went through a series of emotions, and I waited to see him realize that it was indeed his girlfriend dancing on top of a pool table and not an illusion.
The scowl on his lips deepened, and I swore I heard him growl her name. Normally this would amuse me. Not tonight. Josie and Mads, along with Ainsley and Kenna, had their hands in the air, swaying back and forth barefoot as the room watched.
This wasn’t the first time Mads danced on a table, nor did I think it would be the last. I had hauled her ass off them time and time again throughout high school, protecting her even when she didn’t want it or remembered the next day. Her love for tables and dancing extended beyond parties. I had this vivid memory of the first time I’d seen little Mads at six years old, with pigtails and ribbons. She’d come over to Grayson and Kenna’s house for their birthday party. When I walked into the backyard, there she was, on one of the white banquet tables, dancing with Kenna, a blue balloon clutched in her hand.
I think I developed my first crush that day.
But nothing stayed innocent or pure for long. After the whole thing with Kenna and that bastard Carter Patterson, she’d become more cautious and distant. For a while, she avoided everyone, including the Elite. It had bothered me, but as long as she was safe, I had told myself it was for the best.
I tore my eyes from Mads and browsed the room. My gaze landed on the corner, where Sterling sat on a barstool near the bar watching. Not all the girls. No. His eyes were solely fixed on Mads.
Blood rushed through my veins, hot and fiery.
This bastard is dead.
I took a step forward, eyes set on Sterling. Brock clamped a hand down on my shoulder, stopping me. “Not here. Not now. Let’s just get the girls and go. We don’t know what he wants. Not yet. But we will. I promise.”
It took more than a few breaths to steady the rage pumping through me. I gave him a nod, assuring him that I wouldn’t sink my fists in Sterling at this moment. He released my shoulder and strolled into the game room, heading straight for the pool table. I strutted right behind him.
A bold, desperate girl walked into my path, smiling coyly at me. She twirled her hair, and before she could open her mouth, I said, “Not going to happen.”
Her jaw dropped, and I walked around her, irritated at the interruption.
I sought out Mads, hating that I’d been distracted even for a second. Her light brown hair fell down the center of her back in loose waves that swung with her hips. Drunk or not, she knew how to move, and I appreciated the way her body rolled and dipped with the beat of the music. Her lips moved with the words to the song. No matter how many girls were in a room, my eyes only saw Mads.
Stopping at the edge of the pool table, I glanced up at her, thankful she hadn’t worn a skirt tonight but also a little disappointed. “What did I say about dancing on tables?”
Mid-giggle, she swung her eyes toward the sound of my voice. “Micah!” she squealed as those beautiful gray eyes landed on me. The glass bottle in her hand dangled in the air.
Lifting my hands, I slid my fingers up to her waist, plucking her off the table. She leaned into me, twining her arms around my neck. “You’re here. I was thinking about you.”
Even drunk, Mads was cute. Too damn cute. “Really? Would you like to tell me what you’re doing here?” I intended for the words to come out sharp, but she wrinkled her freckled nose at me, smiling.
She started to sway. “Dance with me.”
My dick hardened in my jeans as her body rubbed me in just the right place.God, she fucking drives me crazy.Hands still at her hips, I leaned down, murmuring in her ear, “How about you and I have a private dance back in my room?” Regardless of what was happening in my pants, my goal was to get her out of here.
“Mads told us about the party tonight,” I heard Josie say to Brock. He must have asked the same question I had. Josie sat on the edge of the pool table, her legs dangling off as she clutched the front of his shirt.
Brock lifted an amused brow. Where Josie was concerned, his cold heart melted. “She did, did she?”
“You don’t actually think we’re going to sit and study in our dorm every night, do you?” Kenna, the walking, talking tornado of drama and trouble, plopped down beside her sister. It still bewildered me, seeing the two of them together. Kenna and Josie were pretty freaking close to being carbon copies of each other until one or the other opened their mouth. Then it became clear who was who.
Kenna, Josie, and Grayson were triplets—the Edwards threesome. Not as dirty as it sounded.