Chapter 11 Addison #2
I can feel the awkward stares the guys are giving me as I process why I have not one but two drinks and Roman isn’t attached to either of them.
He couldn’t be bothered, or simply had no desire, to come back to the table.
And since he agreed to buy my drinks, I have to assume that starting me off with a couple gives him more time before he has to deal with me again.
What. An. Ass.
Searching the room, I find him leaning against a wall, Misty in front of him with his hands resting above her ass. Their heads are bent together. Lovers in an intimate conversation.
A familiar pang echoes in my chest. One I’ve felt every time I’ve fallen short of what my parents wanted, what they expected.
I’ve been working my ass off to prove myself to Roman at work, but instead of wowing him with my ambition and tenacity, I’ve been working “too hard,” which in his eyes is doing it wrong.
Then I agree to come out with him to correct the situation, but apparently I don’t do this well enough, either, because he’s making it clear that being around me would be harshing his club buzz.
He lifts his head and our gazes lock. Misty doesn’t seem to notice that his focus isn’t solely on her anymore, if it ever was.
Her hands rove over the muscles in his shoulders and arms and she begins to feast on his neck.
My stomach turns, but I don’t let on for a second that I’m the least bit affected.
I refuse to show weakness, and more and more I’m realizing that is exactly what Roman is to me.
Austin thinks I’m Roman’s weakness, but it’s very much the other way around.
And I resent the hell out of it.
Tossing him a wicked grin, I raise one of the martinis in his direction as a “thank you” with underlying hints of “fuck you.” Keeping eye contact, I drink heartily and give silent praise to the Revenge Gods when a few drops of condensation fall from the side of the glass to drip between my breasts.
Once finished, I use my teeth to drag the maraschino cherry off the plastic toothpick and chew slowly, reveling in the sugary sweet flavor and the fire I see burning in Roman’s ice-blue gaze.
He narrows his eyes at me, and the corner of his upper lip hitches the slightest bit, like a growling junkyard dog. Well, he can suck it, because this junkyard isn’t his to piss on.
Okay, that didn’t sound very good. Mental note: strike all “junkyard dog territory” analogies from future monologues, internal or otherwise.
“Damn, darlin’,” Austin says after a low whistle. “You’re playing with fire, you keep that up.”
If anyone knows about fire, it’d be the Chicago firefighter in the group. But I don’t heed his warning, and I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t care if I get burned…or I’m hoping that I do.
I drain the contents of my second martini in the same fashion as the first, except this time I use my thumb and forefinger to extract the cherry and look away from Roman to offer it to Austin.
I expect him to reject it, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever the hell this is between me and his friend.
I’d planned to shrug my shoulder, pop the cherry in my mouth, and lick my fingers to fan those flames and push his buttons even harder.
But I was wrong. Really wrong.
Answering my challenge, Austin arches one eyebrow and gives me a saucy smirk.
He captures my wrist with a firm grip and then closes his lips around the cherry, spearing his tongue between my thumb and forefinger as he suckles to remove the sticky juice.
I’m acutely aware of Roman watching us, but I don’t dare look over at him.
Just the fact that he’s watching makes my heart race and my body heat from the inside.
I’m afraid if I look, I’ll be able to read his thoughts and I won’t like what I see.
Is this exciting his inner voyeur? Is he pissed that another man’s tongue is on me?
Or worse, is he maddeningly indifferent to the whole thing and returning his attention to Misty?
Austin releases my fingers with a devilish smile and leans in to speak directly in my ear. “Let’s give him an even bigger show, darlin’. Show ol’ Ruthless what he’s missin’ out on.” Pulling back, he gives Liam a chin-lift. “Come on, O’Donnell. Time to take the lady dancing.”
Liam grins conspiratorially and unfolds from the booth, holding his hand out to me.
I graciously accept it, and the three of us head to the crowded dance floor.
I’m not super buzzed yet, but slamming two drinks in a row definitely took the edge off.
I’m all smooth lines and fluid movements, and as soon as Liam chooses a spot and turns into me, I vow to stop caring what Roman is doing with his new toy.
In fact, I might be in the market for a new toy of my own.
The music is loud and rhythmic, sexy and weighty, and I quickly give myself over to the beat rolling through me and the two men surrounding me.
Liam crowds me in the front as Austin presses against my back.
They must have done this to women hundreds of times, as easy as we move together.
Every sway of our bodies, every grind of our hips, it’s all in perfect sync, and I close my eyes and lose myself…
A cool breeze rushes down the front of my body.
It startles me into opening my eyes, but as soon as I do, I wish I’d kept them shut.
I’m no longer sharing intimate space with a man whose love for another makes him utterly harmless.
I’ve been upgraded to a man whose seductive depravity makes him unequivocally… ruthless.