I don’t let myself think about how fucked up this is.
For once, I go with whatIwant.
We maneuver together through the crowd. His hand is on the back of my neck, guiding me along with him. And telling every other guy in this place that I’mhis.
I shiver, and he catches it. He gives me a wicked grin, and I smile back. I don’t know what to do with the anticipation riding through me. It’s eating me up inside.
We end up in the kitchen, where Erik mans a long row of liquor bottles. He gestures to us. “Want something special? On the house for the man of the hour.”
Grey smirks. “I live here. And I chipped in for the booze, asswipe.”
Erik laughs and pours him a drink. Grey takes a sip and passes it to me.
“What is it?” I peer into the cup. It’s an orange-ish opaque color, and it smells sweet. I take a sip—and don’t taste the familiar burn of alcohol. It’s not bad, actually. “You know what? Don’t tell me.”
Grey laughs. “Give me tequila. Straight up.”
“Yes, sir.” Erik mock salutes, then grabs a bottle and gives Grey a hefty pour.
Grey knocks his red cup against mine and takes a swig. I mimic him, swallowing another mouthful of the sweet drink. He leans forward and tips up the bottom of my cup, keeping it raised until I’ve drunk the whole thing. Then he tosses my cup into the sink, finishes his tequila, and grins at me.
“Dancing,” he says.
Heat unfurls through my chest. I don’t argue when he leads me into the living room, my hand gripping his tightly. The music is louder in here, the lights dimmer. There are strands of red LED lights strung along the ceiling, casting everyone in an eerie glow. I shake out my hair. Grey spins me into him, catching me carefully at my waist. The room tilts, and I blink rapidly. It gives me a strobe light effect, slicing the dancing couples around me into still frames.
I giggle and slide my hands up his chest.
We move to the beat—it’s hard not to with it pounding through us—and inch closer. He doesn’t go for my lips, though. I hold the back of his neck as he lowers his lips to my throat. Every stinging bite sends more lust crashing through my bloodstream. I dig my nails into his skin when he goes lower, pushing my shirt out of the way.
He kisses my collarbone, the tops of my breasts. His hands keep me upright.
I don’t fucking care that we’re not alone.
He grinds his hips against mine. His erection digs into my abdomen. I slip my hand down and cup him through his jeans. He groans and lifts his head. His fingers thread around the back of my neck, into my hair. He holds my head carefully, although his gaze is fucking heavy.
It conveys everything he wants to say—but doesn’t.
Every fucking promise.
I look pointedly at my watch.
It’s eleven.
Only one hour left until his prize expires.
“Patience,” he mouths.
I run my nail along his skin at the top of his jeans. Just an exposed little sliver. But he shakes his head at me, silently reprimanding me. I want to drag him into the bathroom and tell him to fuck me. I want a million orgasms, and I want to see the expression on his face whenhecomes. Once wasn’t enough.
I need more.
But demanding Grey to do anything has never worked in my favor.
So I bite my lower lip and let him sweep me along for the ride. Whatever he has planned.
* * *
We dance until my legs are numb. I drink another cupful of the juice, not caring that it’s getting harder to open my eyes. The floating sensation doesn’t go away.