“Dial in the inner caveman there, Daddy. I told you I got her. I’ll make sure that she gets to her room safe and sound.” I smirk at him because he’s making this too damn easy.
I want to fuck her. This is common knowledge—I don’t hide my feelings from anyone, especially her. However, I want her to remember it. I want to ruin her for other men. She has me wound tight, and yeah . . . she’s gonna need to be sober for what I have planned.
“Dammit!” Kacen exclaims.
Logan darts her eyes back and forth between the three of us. She doesn’t seem to be as concerned for her friend as she is for her husband; she’s more worried about Kacen and the words that are flying from his mouth.
“I fucking told you, C.”
“You’re right, you did, and I heard every fucking word.”
“Babe, he’ll take care of her,” Logan tries to calm him.
Logan has always been that way. No matter the rumors she’s heard about us, she’s always taken our side. Not just because of Kacen, but because that’s the kind of person she is. She knows I would never take advantage of a drunken girl, ever. I may like to play around, but I’m not an asshole.
“Listen to your wife, Kace. I give you my word.” Tonight. All bets are off when she sobers up.
He stares at me for what seems like hours, even though it’s only a few seconds at the most. He must find what he’s looking for, because he nods and laces his fingers through Logan’s. Without further argument, he guides them out of the ballroom.
I glance down at Stacy; her eyes are closed, and she looks so damn peaceful.
Beautiful.
“All right, you. Let’s get you up to your room. Can you walk?” I have no idea if she’s even awake. I don’t get a reply, so without losing my grip on her, so she doesn’t fall, I very carefully pull away from her and lift her into my arms. I scan the room and see that Tristan is still on the dance floor, all wrapped up in Logan’s cousin. I think her name is Lauren. My eyes roaming around the room, I find Gavin sitting next to Cassidy. They both seem to be lost in thought as they watch the remaining guests. My boys are good; time to get this damsel in distress up to her room.
I manage to hit the Call button for the elevator without dropping her. When the car finally arrives, I again work to hit her floor—well, our floor. Kace rented the whole damn thing, along with the honeymoon suite. I rest my back against the wall of the elevator and watch as the numbers climbs. Looking down to the beautiful mess in my arms, I can’t help but smile. This is not how I wanted this night to end, but I have to admit that getting to see her like this, so relaxed, is a nice change from what I usually get. She always seems on her guard around me. I tell myself it’s because she feels this sexual energy between us, but really I can’t be sure that’s what it is. A man can hope.
Reaching our floor, I realize I don’t have a key to her room. Shit! I stand there in the middle of the hall, not sure of my next move. I guess I’m going to have to set her down so I can call downstairs. From the looks of this slinky dress she has on, there is nowhere to hide a key card. I spot a bench just down the hall and head that way. I try to carefully place her on it, but her grip around my neck is tight.
“This isn’t my room.”
Ah, she’s awake. “No, sweets, I need you to let go so I can call down to get a key.”
“I got my key.” She releases her hold around my neck and begins to inch up her dress. I place my hand over hers to stop her progress. I’m not getting under there, so I don’t need to see that shit.
“Let me get it.”
“Stacy, babe, where do you think you’re going to get your key?” I’m at a loss for words right now.
She throws my hand off hers, wiggles her ass against the bench, and works her dress up over her thighs.
Fuck me.
I watch with rapt attention as a white garter comes into view. I’m waiting for her to reveal more, knowing it’s a bad idea, but unable to look away if my life depended upon it.
I watch as her fingers slip into the garter and slide out with a white key card. Fuck, that’s hot. She holds it in the air like a prize and gives me a goofy grin. “Ta-da!”
Her drunken excitement is infectious, but then again, maybe it’s just her. I grab the card from her hands and swiftly sweep her back into my arms. Her hands instantly clasp around my neck. “A girl could get used to this,” she whispers.
My first thought is “Don’t.” My next is that a girl like her deserves to get used to being treated right. As soon as the thought comes, I shake it off. This wedding has got me waxing all kinds of fucked-up poetic in my brain. I shouldn’t be thinking that shit. I should be thinking about what it’s going to be like when I finally get to bury myself deep inside her. Fuck, no, that’s not good either. Now I’m hard as fuck with no relief in sight.