Chapter 12 #2
“Number two,” Fig says, “the person whose ex is here becomes the VIP for the night. We may like to razz each other, but when Code Ex is in effect, that person is immune from anything that makes them look bad. No pranks, and they need to look like the center of attention at all times.”
“And number three,” Mack says, smirking, “Operation Wingman kicks in. We do our best to make sure the person looks like the most desirable one in the whole place. For us, that means the guy gets the pick of any bunnies who are hanging around. If there are no bunnies, we see if we can get him some other romantic attention.”
“It’ll be trickier with you,” Kelsier says, considering me. “We can’t pass you around, or we may give your ex the wrong impression.”
“Already handled,” Ash says. He nuzzles his face into my neck, making a wave of goosebumps rise on my arms. “I told him me and the doc were dating.”
I shift on Ash’s lap, my skin hypersensitized, and he lets out a low murmur as his hand tightens on my thigh.
“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Bouchard says. “But if that gets out, then you’ll have to do the whole fake breakup thing later.”
“I’ll deal with that if the time comes,” Ash says. “Right now, we manage the current issue.”
“So what are we dealing with?” Kelsier asks me. “Cheater? Did you dump him, or did he dump you?”
Ash’s hand inches higher on my leg as it also drifts inward, and my mind empties of thought as his thumb strokes the inside of my thigh.
He lifts his lips so they’re against the shell of my ear. “Is this okay?” he asks softly, his breath tickling me in a delightful kind of way.
I catch the faint whiff of beer on his breath. I was late getting out tonight, and I wonder how much he’s had to drink already.
All I can do is nod a couple times. It’s been a long time since I’ve been touched like this, and the feeling has short circuited whatever part of my brain controls speech. My nipples are almost painfully tight right now, and I’m getting wet.
With some effort, I pull my attention back to the group. “No cheating,” I manage. “Or at least, none I know of.”
“He break up with you?” Kelsier guesses hesitantly.
Normally I wouldn’t want to tell these guys the sordid details of my time with Drew, but Ash’s thumb is still slowly rubbing my thigh, and I need to focus on something besides it burning my skin.
“Who broke up with who sort of depends on your perspective,” I say, forcing myself to focus. “I technically broke up with him, but only after he canceled plans with me four separate times. Maybe I just wasn’t taking the hint.”
The looks of shock and outrage on the guys’ faces are more humiliating than comforting, and I wonder once again how I could’ve held on for so long to someone who, in hindsight, made it that obvious he didn’t want to spend time with me.
The fresh wave of shame is smothered by the tingling I feel down my entire body when Ash brushes my hair back from my shoulder. I’m wearing it down for a change, and his fingers against my neck cause goosebumps to bloom anew all over my arms.
“Your skin is so sensitive,” Ash says into my ear as he trails his fingers down my forearm. “And smooth. Also, Drew hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you sat down on my lap.”
I resist the urge to look at Drew. I don’t care anymore if he’s watching.
“Teach, why would you let a guy do that to you?” Mack asks. His voice is pained. “When I’m dating someone, she gets one cancelation for extenuating circumstances. Twice in a row, and I’m done.”
“Hey, don’t blame her,” Kelsier says. “He’s the asshole who kept stringing her along instead of just letting her go.”
“I’m not blaming her,” Mack insists. “I’m just saying the teach shouldn’t take that kind of crap from anyone.”
They begin to argue about whether or not Mack was blaming me for letting the thing with Drew go on too long.
“Can you hand me my beer, please?” Ash asks, and I lean forward to take his beer off the table. I hand him the bottle, then pick up my own glass of wine and take a deep drink. I’m going to need more alcohol to get through this night.
I feel odd sitting on Ash’s lap, but my back is stiff from trying to hold myself up, so I give in and lean against him.
There’s something hard digging against my backside, and I shift, thinking I’m pressed against a fold of fabric from the fly of Ash’s jeans.
He groans as his hand flexes on my thigh and inches higher.
I freeze, realizing the lump isn’t fabric.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper quickly. “I didn’t…”
I trail off, not sure how to apologize for his erection.
Ash’s thumb is under the hem of my dress now, and I can’t help thinking how close it is to my clit. He must be able to feel the heat pouring from between my legs, because I certainly can.
Ash trails his lips along my neck, and another shiver works its way down my body. A noise that’s part sigh, part moan escapes my throat, and I resist the urge to press into his touch.
“You can tell me to stop if you want,” Ash whispers against my throat.
No, I really can’t. Every nerve in my body is alive and acutely aware of Ash’s hands and lips. I’m soaking wet between my thighs, and I just pray the black fabric will hide it.
“Which one is he anyway?” Bouchard asks as Mack and Kelsier wind down their argument.
“The idiot with the blue button-down shirt who thinks having his hair lick up like that in front is cool,” Ash says. He kisses the bare spot of my shoulder near my neck, and I’m not entirely sure we’re acting anymore.
Ash’s thumb strokes between my legs, and my traitorous body pushes into the touch. My hips undulate of their own accord as if to encourage him, and I try to force myself to sit still.
I feel Ash smile against my shoulder before he plants a kiss there.
“Does that feel good?” he says so only I can hear.
My answer is a soft moan as he squeezes my thigh again, and I wonder once more how much he’s had to drink already. His voice doesn’t sound slurred, but he’s clearly had enough to make him a little horny.
“Easy there, you two,” Fig says, chuckling. “Maybe you should take this out onto the dance floor before you get the couch all wet.”
My face heats as I realize how shameless I’ve been acting in front of Ash’s teammates. I’m sure they must deal with this all the time from puck bunnies, but I hate the idea of being yet another woman just rubbing myself all over a hockey player.
“Good idea,” Ash says, and I squeak in surprise as he stands, taking me with him. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor. I barely manage to down another gulp of wine and set the glass down before we go.
It’s mostly women dancing in groups out on the floor, but there are a few couples dancing as well.
And by dancing, I mean the man sways from side to side while drinking his beer as his girlfriend gyrates on him.
There’s only one couple that’s really into it, and they’re practically fucking each other.
If they didn’t have clothes on, she’d be pregnant by now.
Ash swings me around and pulls me against him as he starts to move to the music. What we’re doing is somewhere between the dry humping couple and the other couples, but at least we’re still a few stages away from needing a pregnancy test.
“I thought you didn’t dance,” I say as he tightens his arm around me.
He shrugs. “I don’t usually have a reason to.”
The hand not holding my waist threads into my hair, and one of his knees presses between mine.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I don’t want to put you in the middle of my drama with Drew.”
“It’s no problem,” he says. “You’re doing me a favor, so I’m happy to help.”
“I’m getting paid very well to do you that favor,” I remind him.
He shrugs again. “Fine, then maybe you’ll just owe me.”
I don’t get a chance to respond because he flips me around so my back is pressed to his chest. He takes one of my wrists and pulls it up to pin it against his shoulder.
His other hand slides down my body to splay across my stomach and pull me back against him.
He grinds his hips into me, and I can feel his erection against my backside.
“Drew can’t take his eyes off you right now,” Ash reports.
Drew? Drew who?
“Does he have a longing look on his face?” I ask.
“He’s practically drooling.”
“Then he’s probably looking at you,” I say. “I didn’t realize he was such a hockey fan.”
He chuckles. “Should I slip him my number?”
“Hey! What happened to Code Ex?” I ask, feigning offense. “I thought exes are off-limits.”
“Fair enough.” He runs his hand back up my body to my sternum. My nipples peak again instantly, then tighten even more as his thumb brushes the side of one breast.
I hope he doesn’t hear the whimper that escapes me, but he must because he says, “God, your body is so damn responsive.”
I’m about to apologize when I catch sight of someone else I recognize across the room. I gasp and spin around again to hide my face in Ash’s chest. Shit, shit, Shit!
“What’s wrong?” Ash asks. He grasps my upper arms and tries to pull me away, but I hold onto his shirt for dear life.
“One of my students is here,” I say. “I have to get off this dance floor before someone sees me grinding against you.”
The kid wasn’t looking at me, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t see me.
Ash’s hand moves to the small of my back as he steers me through the crowd toward the VIP area again. We’re met with a chorus of cheers and whoops when we return to the couches.
“When’s the wedding?” Mack asks. “That was hot.”
Ash tries to pull me back onto his lap again as we sit, but I manage to detour my ass onto the couch next to him.
He doesn’t say anything, but his hand is on my thigh again the second I cross my legs.
I’m trying to decide if he’s really dedicated to this Code Ex thing, or if he’s at that stage of drunkenness where some men get especially handsy.
To be sure, I enjoy the attention, and I’m trying to live in the moment. I just don’t want to get used to it or make the mistake of thinking there’s anything more to Ash’s touches than alcohol, friction, and the desire to help a friend out.
A friend? Is that what I am to him? Regardless, it would be a mistake to think the way Ash touches me means more than that.
“You should’ve seen the look on the guy’s face when the two of you started dancing,” Bouchard says. “He’s definitely jealous.”
“He was totally eye-fucking you,” Mack confirms.
“I just learned he’s a hockey fan,” I say. “I’m pretty sure it was Ash he was eye-fucking.”
The guys all laugh and tease Ash. All except the guy with the black hair who now has a woman on his lap. He’s making out with her, but he lifts his lips from hers long enough to speak for the first time.
“If you really wanted to make the guy jealous, you should’ve told him you were with me,” he says.
I blink at the blatant egotism. Ash’s fingers twitch on my thigh, and he scowls at the guy.
“And you are?” I ask.
I know who he is, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of proving it.
If he’s surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. The woman on his lap looks more outraged than he does.
The man smirks. “You can call me ‘Your Highness.’” He nods to the woman in his lap. “That’s what she’ll be calling me later tonight.”
Unoffended, the woman grins and lays a hand on his chest.
“This is Kingston, our starting goalie,” Ash tells me.
Kingston starts to speak, but all the other guys chime in to say his full name along with him. “Beckham Kingston III.”
The guys laugh, and Kingston looks annoyed for the first time. The woman on his lap just glares at me.
“Don’t get us wrong,” Kelsier says. “Kingston is definitely a big deal.”
“He’s just also a big prima donna,” Fig says.
Kingston rolls his eyes and goes back to making out with the woman.
“It’s a wonder his head still fits in his helmet,” Mack says to me.
“Honestly, he’s a great goalie,” Ash says close to my ear, and it sounds like the words almost pain him to admit. “He had nine shutout games last season. Kaladin paid a lot of money to get him here.”
Mack nods, having heard. “Yeah,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “It’s too bad he’s such a flaming dickbag.”