As I lead Stacy out on the dance floor for the second time, I have to reach out and steady her. I’m not surprised after the amount of champagne she just consumed in such a short span of time. Hopefully, we can work some of it out of her system on the dance floor.
We reach the crowd of dancers and I pull her to me; this time, she doesn’t resist. She clasps her hands behind my neck and lets me hold her close. I’m hard as steel, and when she whips her head up to look at me, those green eyes wide, I know she can feel me. Hands on her hips, I pull her as close as I can get her. Bending down, I whisper in her ear, “That’s all you, Stacy. I ache to be inside you.”
She whimpers, and I have to fight my grin. Fucking finally! Leaning in, she rests her head against my chest. Looking down, I watch as her eyes flutter closed, see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She wants this just as badly as I do.
As the song changes from slow to sensual, I rock my hips against her, and it’s like that move alone caused some type of switch to go off. She lifts her head, flashes me a flirty grin, and mimics my movements. My cock takes notice to the point that it’s painful. Not willing to lose an opportunity to touch her, I take the lead as our bodies grind to the beat.
Push and pull.
Pain and pleasure.
I want her.
Again, the music changes, and I send a mental high five to the DJ. Stacy’s big eyes find mine. “I want to run my fingers through it.”
It takes me a minute to figure out what she’s talking about. My hair.
“What else do you want to do to me?”
She flashes me a sexy smile and opens her mouth, but the words never come because Logan and Kacen appear beside us. “Stacy, you mind running up to the room with me? I want to change these shoes, and if my husband goes with me, we might not make it back.” She giggles as Kacen kisses her neck.
She immediately removes her hands from around my neck and steps back. Reluctantly, I let her go.
Logan reaches for her hand, pulling her toward the exit. “We’ll be right back!” she yells over her shoulder.
“You’re drooling.” I elbow Kacen to get his attention. Luckily, his eyes followed his new bride so he didn’t notice that I ogled the lovely Stacy until they were out of sight.
Turning to look at me, he’s wearing a goofy-ass grin. “She’s mine.”
Such a simple statement, yet it means so much more. I can’t help but get sentimental. “I’m happy for you, man. You deserve this.”
“Thanks, C.” He turns back to stare at the door where the girls disappeared.
“Let’s get you a beer.” I clamp a hand down on his shoulder and turn us toward the bar.
“I’m good,” he says, taking a stool.
I raise my eyebrows in silent question.
“Dude, she’s my fucking wife. As soon as I convince her that we’ve spent enough time down here,”—he points to the dance floor—“I’m taking her upstairs and ravishing her. It will be a cold day in hell that I’m not sober enough to remember sliding into her as my wife for the first time.”
I nod, because really, what else can I say? He has a valid point, and even though I’ve never been the settling-down type, I can see where he’s coming from. There are just some moments that you want a vivid memory of that will last you a lifetime.
“So, you and Stacy looked cozy.”
I nod again, before bringing the cold beer the bartender just handed me to my lips. “She’s hot as hell.”
“That she is, but she is also my wife’s best friend. Your friend’s best friend.”
Is he warning me to stay away from her? We’ve had conversations like this before, since the boys and I have run off a few of the band’s personal assistants over the years. It’s not our fault they thought they could “change” us.
“And?”
“And don’t fuck with her. Logan is my wife. She’s permanent. Stacy is her best friend—also permanent. I don’t want things to be awkward. We all spend a hell of a lot of time together, and we don’t need that shit. None of us.”
Fuck me.
“They’re back. Think about it, man.” He doesn’t say another word until Logan is within reach. “There’s my wife.”
She giggles. “Miss me?”
He doesn’t answer her, instead pulling her to him before kissing the fuck out of her. Turning away from them, I see Stacy reaching for another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Setting my half-empty beer bottle on the bar, I snake my arm out and pull her close. “You good?”
Bringing the glass to her lips, she tips it back and drains it. With a coy smile, she says, “Yep.”
My eyes follow her lips as her tongue slips out and licks a tiny of drop of champagne.
“Let’s do this,” Logan’s voice breaks through my haze of lust as she pulls Stacy onto the dance floor.
I watch her. Every fucking step she takes, my eyes are glued to her. It’s obvious from the slow, easy sway of her body to the beat of the music that she’s more than a little tipsy. I’m glad she’s out there with Logan; dancing her ass off will help sober her up.
I’m going to need her sober.