“Shit,” I hiss under my breath as Brianna makes a show of walking around the living room before slipping into the kitchen, her arse and curvy hips encased in a skin-tight pair of black jeans. Her top half isn’t much better. It’s nothing more than a shiny scrap of fabric that I’m pretty sure I could shed from her body with nothing more than a sharp tug.
My mouth waters as I imagine stripping it all from her, leaving her bare for me. Bare and ready for the taking.
A heavy slap lands on my shoulder, startling me before a smug-as-fuck voice says, “See, I told you this was a good idea.”
Toby takes off toward the kitchen where Bri is now making smooth work of knocking up the girls’ cocktails, moving her arse right along with the shaker and ensuring she keeps my attention.
Miss fucking Andrews is in a whole world of trouble she’s not expecting.
“Here,” Toby says, shoving a beer into my chest.
“Nah, man,” I say, pulling a bottle of vodka from my back pocket. “I’m gonna need something harder than that for tonight.”
“Just fuck her. Take the edge off. You know she’d be up for it.”
Would she? Would Miss Andrews be a good little teacher for me and get on her knees and suck my dick like the pro that she is?
Heat tingles down my spine as that thought plays out in my mind, and when I look up, I find the cocktail shaker unmoving in her hands and her eyes boring into me.
My lips twitch before a dark smirk curls at one side of my mouth before my eyes drop down her body again, letting her know exactly what I’m thinking about.
When I finally focus on her face once more, she swallows harshly, my attention clearly affecting her as potently as her proximity does to me.
“Nah, she’s not worth it,” I say, ensuring she can read my lips, possibly even hear the words as they roll off my tongue.
She startles, letting me know that she heard me loud and clear.
I allow myself to take a trip around her body once more before I turn my back on her and stalk toward the others in the living room.
“Here,” Emmie says, shoving a couple of party poppers at me.
“Ugh.”
“Oh don’t be such a miserable fuck. We’re celebrating.”
“Yeah, so we are,” I mutter, taking the things from her and falling onto the sofa with a grunt of annoyance.
I might have agreed to be here, but I said fuck all about enjoying myself. Even less about faking it.
If they want me here, then they’re going to have to take me as they find me.
“They’re still not answering,” Stella announces, lowering her phone from her ear.
“Already told you,” Bri shouts over. “She’s too busy making the most of Daemon’s cock.”
All the air rushes out of my lungs at her suggestion, my teeth grinding and my grip on the bottle in my hand becoming so tight I wonder how the glass doesn’t shatter.
“I bet he’s fucking dirty,” she deadpans. “Stella’s already told us how good a kisser he is.”
“Oh, has she now?” Seb sneers, his arm whipping out so quick that Stella has no chance of dodging him as he wraps his fingers around her throat and pins her back against the wall. Pressing the length of his body against hers, he growls something in her ear and she sags in his hold, a whimper falling from her lips.
I might be watching them, but in my head she’s Brianna. It’s her big blue eyes staring up at me, it’s her pulse thundering beneath my fingers as I fight the thin line between hate and desire and try to decide if I should fuck her or throttle her.
Suddenly, all eyes turn on me and I quickly realise that the growl that just ripped through the room wasn't from the couple who are about three seconds away from fucking right here in front of us but me, courtesy of my imagination.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, fed up of their concerned, sympathetic eyes.
Abandoning my vodka on the coffee table, I storm through Theo’s apartment just as Ant and Isla appear to join the party. Ignoring the fact that a fucking Italian has been invited, I continue forward, slamming the bathroom door so hard the floor beneath me vibrates.