“Seriously?!” I squealed, glancing back at Ash as she prowled away.
Eliza nodded, equally as excited.
“Oh my God! She’s going to flip. We should say a prayer for the poor souls who get the room next to them tonight.” I nabbed two more champagne flutes from a waiter’s tray.
We watched as Ash made her move.
Eliza was right. She went for the wallet last.
I was right too though. She. Flipped.
“Ew. Ew. Ew,” we said in unison as Ash practically mounted Flint.
“I should probably rescue my husband.” She pointed to Till, who was one blink away from dozing off in mid-conversation with a group of gray-haired men.
“You do that and I’m going to find Q. Want to meet at the back bar for a drink in ten minutes? Shots?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Eliza wasn’t much of a drinker, but after almost a year of hard work, she always made an exception at the gala.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll make Till get up with the kids in the morning.” She laughed. “Want to come over and nurse our hangovers together?”
“You supply the coffee and Netflix. I’ll bring the greasy fast food.”
“Deal.”
We split in different directions.
I made my way to the back of the room where I’d last seen Q at least an hour earlier when he’d been cornered by a group of guests.
When I didn’t see him there, I headed toward the exit, thinking he might have snuck into the alley for a breather—a.k.a. hiding so he didn’t have to be social. However, as I rounded the corner, I froze when I saw none other than “Golden” Garrett Davenport strutting past the security guard at the back door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
SHOOT ME.
No, seriously.
Shoot me.
I was in a suit.
Chatting with old men who wanted to tell me all about their glory days in junior league boxing. They were dropping names like I should know who the fuck amateur “Tornado” Timmy Turner was four decades before I was born.
Plus, I was stuck chugging nasty-ass champagne off the waiters’ trays. Ducking to the bar for a beer would have taken valuable time away from the riveting stories of the youth in the Dark Ages.
And the cherry on top of this shit-sundae was that I hadn’t seen Liv in ten hours. Okay, maybe it was only, like, one hour. But she was wearing that little black dress that left virtually nothing to the imagination, so even ten hours felt like an understatement.
She looked every bit as sexy as I had feared.
Her long, sculpted legs taunted me with every step. Urging me to drop to my knees and bury my face between them.
Those tall, black heels whispered promises to score my back with every click.
That silky, brown hair begged to be wrapped around my fist as I fucked her from behind.
Her bold, red lipstick pleaded to stain the root of my cock.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This is Liv! What the hell is wrong with me?
Never going to happen, buddy.
However, for a brief minute on the red carpet as I caught her eye-fucking my ass, I had hoped that it might.
It was ridiculous though.
Nothing good would ever come of me fucking Liv James.
She was my best friend. Slipping my dick into her was not an option. My fingers though…
Shit!
I loved her—like family. Unfortunately, my body had gotten a few wires crossed and now thought I should love her in that hey-let-me-make-you-come-until-you-forget-the-English-language kind of way.
I desperately needed to find a way to unscramble those thoughts so I could get over this bullshit and get back to where we should be.
Just friends.
Best friends.
Maybe friends who get off together?
Damn it!
With that, I decided it was time to throw etiquette out the window and make my escape.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to check on my date.”
Then check myself into a sexual rehabilitation facility.
Several handshakes later, I was free. While scanning the large ballroom for Liv, I caught sight of Eliza dragging Till out of another circle of loaded fogies.
No sign of Liv.
A sudden pain in my ear made me wince. God, I wanted to go home. My new hearing aids had been calibrated for the noisy environment of the fundraiser, but they were uncomfortable as fuck. I headed to the bathroom to check them out or, hell, maybe save myself from being caught in another Circle of Bengay and take them off altogether.
Ignoring a different group of guests trying to catch my attention, I hurried toward the bathroom.
All thoughts of my discomfort disappeared when I heard the sharp cry of Liv’s voice. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but only the tone of her voice soured my gut. I sprinted in her direction, not slowing until her long, brown hair came into view.
Then my vision turned red as it zeroed in on a man holding her around the waist as she kicked and screamed in his arms.
“Get him out of here!” Liv shouted. “You don’t get to do this! Not again!”