Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Davis
I hate wearing fucking suits – have I mentioned that? ‘Cause I do.
I pull a black shirt over my shoulders, anyway, and work to get all of the buttons secured before tucking the bottom of the shirt into my matching black slacks.
Reaching into my closet, I grab a champagne-colored suit jacket, covered in filigree stitching, and throw it on, securing the single button at the middle.
I head for my nightstand, pulling open the top drawer, and I fish out a few pills in varying shape and color to stuff them into my pocket.
On my way out of the apartment, I grab my forty-five and slip it into the holster tucked underneath the waistband of my slacks.
Just in case.
I’m the first of the group to arrive at the collective; loud music and celebration can be heard even from outside the double doors that lead into the main hall, and I’m itching to get inside.
I pull one of the brightly-colored pills from my pocket and lean against the wall, dropping it into my mouth and swallowing it before I settle in to wait for everyone else to show up.
Another fifteen minutes pass before a glossy black Escalade pulls up to the walkway and Colt, Rowan, Emmett and Logan all spill out of it, dressed to the damn nines.
I reach into my back pocket for my cell phone and type out a quick message to the driver I sent for Sophia and her friend more than half an hour ago.
Me: Where the fuck are you?
I slip my phone back into its place and move to my family, giving each of them a quick hug, and I give Rowan a quick peck on the cheek.
Shoving the double doors open, I step inside the main hall, shouting, “Someone get the graduate a drink!”
I head straight for the bar, moving my hips and shoulders to the music filling the space, and I order myself a whiskey sour. Rowan settles next to me, leaning against the bar, and orders herself a glass of water. Just once, I wanna see that girl black out. I bet it would be fucking hilarious.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” She asks with a nudge to my elbow.
“She’s not my—”
This time, she picks up her cane and whacks me on the side of the head with the handle of it to cut me off. “Eric Alexander Davis, do not even finish that sentence. She is, and we all know it. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to.”
“You’re the nosiest little thing I ever met, you know that?”
Flashing me a big, cheesy grin, she echoes herself. “I get that a lot, but Colt’s worse. Where is she?”
I lift my wrist, pulling back the cuff of my sleeve to check my watch. “Dunno,” I answer. “I sent a car for ‘em at seven.”
“And we’re not panicking about that?”
“Darlin’, when have you ever seen me panic about anything?” I laugh, taking a sip of my drink. She raises her eyebrows and pinches her lips together, looking away from me like she’s trying to hold in a damn laugh. “That doesn’t count! Anyone with a dick would’ve done the same.”
My best friend sidles up next to his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist while he takes a drink of his champagne. “What are we talking about?”
“The time that Davis accidentally told us all he was going commando,” Rowan answers with a chortle.
“Ugh, Jesus,” Colt cringes, because like I said, anyone with a dick. “Not the zipper incident.”
“Case in fuckin’ point.”
I clap my friend on the shoulder and pick up my drink, sucking the rest of it down while I dance through the crowd of people here to celebrate Emmett getting his big degree.
By the time I hit the middle of the party, the warm blanket of feel-good that I’ve been waiting for throws itself on top of me.
A server walks past me, carrying a tray filled with glasses of champagne, and I take one, swapping it out for my empty glass.
The bubbles in the champagne feel fucking fantastic fizzing against my tongue, and I can’t help but smile at the feeling while I dance. I could live like this for-fucking-ever, even if I had to wear a suit to do it.
Someone throws a few taps onto my shoulder, shouting up into my ear, “You look lost.”
I can feel the doofy fucking grin that spreads across my face before I turn around to see Sophia and her friend standing behind me, and everyone but my girl disappears.
Sophia has on a dark green dress that hugs every part of her body, and a scooped up bit at the side gives the perfect view of her thigh.
So that’s why she wanted to know my favorite color.
Her hair is in those same big, fluffy curls that she came back from the salon with.
Her eyes are rimmed with black, and her lips are painted with a dark red that looks incredible on her.
About a million different thoughts scramble themselves around in my brain while I stare at her, all of them trying to be the first to get out.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, brushing my fingers through her curls, “you’re beautiful.”
A slow smile sprawls across her face and she lifts herself up as high as she can to drape an arm around the back of my neck.
I bend down to meet her, far enough that I can nuzzle into the crook of her neck and breathe her in.
“Smell fuckin’ amazing, too,” I tell her before taking a bite of her skin.
“It’s the perfume you gave me,” she says. I pull away to get another look at her, and her hands trail over the fabric of my jacket. “You know, I would tell you how hot you look in this suit, but I worry about boosting your ego too much.”
“Oh it’s too late now, Sugar.” I drop down to kiss her, slipping my tongue past her lips, and she moans against my mouth.
Sophia’s hands cup my face, and I feel a series of hard taps at the side of my head that snap me out of my little mental bubble and back into reality to see that we’re surrounded by other people.
Her friend – Ava, I think? - stands in front of me with her arms crossed, a big ol’ smile on her face.
“It’s nice to finally be formally introduced to the Eric,” she tells me. “I’ve heard some stories about you.”
“Hopefully only the fun ones,” I laugh with a wink. She’s taller than Sophia, but I still have to bend down to kiss her on the cheek. “You ladies drinking?”
“Yes!” Both of them shout it at me at the same time, like they have some sort of mind meld shit going on.
I drape one arm over Sophia’s shoulders and the other over Ava’s, and I guide the two of them to the bar to order their drinks. Ava chooses a bordeaux, which makes sense for her, based on the stories I’ve heard. Sophia goes with an appletini, which makes sense for her, too.
With their drinks in hand, I reach into my pocket to pull out a purple pill, pressed with a little smiley face on it.
I offer it to Sophia, and she takes it from my hand, using her bright-ass green cocktail to swallow it down.
I bring my mouth to her neck, drawing my tongue over her soft skin while my hand settles on her hip and he body presses into mine.
“Just so you know,” her friend tells me, “if you ever hurt her, I will personally cut your dick off, taxidermy it, and mount it on my living room wall like a trophy.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I nod, “I’ll try to save you the trouble.”
“See that you do.” Shooting back half of her drink, she pats me on the arm a couple of times and heads away from us, into the crowd while Emmett flies past us like his ass is on fire.
Guess we’ll congratulate him later.
After ordering a couple of tequila shooters for Sophia and myself, we throw them back and I snake my arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the rest of the party.
We pass a table stacked high with foods that were one hundred percent picked by Rowan; tiny cakes and tarts on one of those ridiculous layered stands, cookies and macaroons on another, some fresh veggies and a couple different types of sliders, and a big tray of chicken nuggets.
It could only be better if there was a nacho bar or some shit.
Two of the Fowlers are off to the side, sitting at a small table.
Sophia sees them around the same time I do and she scurries over behind Rowan, pulling the bottom of her dress up off the floor while she moves.
I watch, laughing, while she throws her arms around her new friend and kisses her hard on the cheek.
Rowan giggles, and the two of them dissolve into conversation I don’t bother trying to pay attention to; it’s a whole lot of squealing and laughing.
“Hey asshole,” Colt slurs, slapping the back of my arm.
“Drunk already, old bastard? We gotta get your tolerance back up.” I jerk my head toward his wife. “She’s made you a lightweight.”
Using both hands to gesture toward the plate in front of him, he tells me, “She brought me sliders.”
Chuckling, I pick one of the tiny little sandwiches off of his plate and take a bite of it before I set the rest back down. It’s not bad for a party food, but it would take thirty of the things for them to be filling.
“Have you told her yet?”
“No,” I tell him, “and hush up about it.”
Before he has a chance to open his loud-ass mouth again, I move behind Sophia and wrap an arm around her, pulling her out toward the dance floor with me.
She turns her back to me, moving her body to the music, and my hands find her hips.
They work their way up her body, over the silky, fuzzy material of her dress, then they trail back down to her hips again.
I bend down to press my lips against the skin just behind her ear, breathing her in before I suck at the soft flesh.
She smells fucking amazing. She feels fucking amazing. I’ve never been greedy about the things I have, but I’m greedy when it comes to her. I want her all to myself, all the time. I never want to let go of her. The only place she belongs is right fucking here with me. In my arms and nowhere else.
And I wish I wasn’t too damn chicken to tell her that.
With Sophia’s ass grinding against me, another beautiful woman approaches me, and she lifts herself onto her toes to shout into my ear.
I don’t really pay attention to what she’s saying; I just let it fill my ears like garbled gibberish while she talks, but I don’t have to understand her to know where her mind is or what she wants.
I’m about to shut her down – I fucking know – when Sophia stops dancing and turns to face her.
“I’m sorry,” she shouts, “I can see that you have eyes. And you’re not wearing glasses, so they must work pretty well.
” My eyebrows shoot damn near up to my hairline and I cross my arms over my chest, settling in to watch the show while Sophia takes a step closer to the woman.
“Since your eyes work, you can see that he’s dancing with his girlfriend, and you can get lost.”
The woman looks offended, like she’s either about to start yelling or crying, and normally I’d say something about it; but I’m too busy watching, my cock swelling while I stare at my girl.
Jealousy looks fucking sexy on her. The other chick turns tail like a wounded animal and stalks off somewhere, probably toward the bar for another drink.
My arms drape around the front of Sophia’s shoulders, and I bend down to purr into her ear. “Sophia, Sugar, I dunno about you, but that made me unbelievably horny.”
A wicked little grin ticks up the corner of her mouth. “Your place or mine?”
The only answer I give her is my arm wrapping around her body, throwing her over my shoulder while I haul her ass out of the building.