Chapter 19
Guinevere
T he music thumps through my body, the bass vibrating in my chest as the alcohol I’ve consumed courses through my veins, clouding my thoughts and loosening the tension in my body .
As much as I hate drinking, I needed a drink after that phone call from my father, not to mention the fact that I am standing in my enemy’s house.
So, I’ve been drowning my sorrows in alcohol and some very questionable drinks, attempting to forget the painful reality that my father has once again forgotten my birthday, and he is moving halfway across the world.
The skimpy French maid costume that pushes my cleavage together and my short skirt seemed like a bad idea before I left the house, but now I’m realizing I don’t stand out at all. Every girl here is dressed in something similar, and just as revealing.
My curled hair tumbles messily around my shoulders, and my red lipstick stains the plastic cup I’m drinking from. I can feel sweat beading between my breasts and down my neck from all of the dancing I’ve done, and all of the bodies smashed into one room.
Lainey, Ellie, and Damian, who was already here when we arrived, dance with me, our laughter mixing with the loud sounds of people talking, screaming, and singing, the music loud enough for people in the next town to hear.
A guy wearing a fireman costume, or well, firemen’s suspenders without a shirt on, and a hard hat enters our space, handing us each a shot. Normally I wouldn’t accept a drink from a stranger, but I’m too intoxicated to care.
The guy hands me mine last, his stare lingering on me a bit longer than it did Lainey and Ellie. They down their shots and continue to dance, while I stare up at this attractive firefighter who still hasn’t let go of my shot glass which is in my hand and his.
He’s tall and tan, with blonde hair that’s long on the top and shorter on the sides. His brown eyes look into mine before he shoots me an award-winning smile. Wow, this man is pretty. Not as pretty as Ryker though.
Wait, what? No, I didn’t mean that. Or did I?
The guy finally lets go of my shot and runs a hand through his fluffy hair before stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Hey, I’m Ashton. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” the pretty boy says. Wow, what an original line. I stifle a laugh, smiling politely at the guy I now know as Ashton.
“Gwen. And yeah, I don’t do parties much.”
Ashton grins. “What brings you here tonight?” he asks.
“An asshole father who forgot my birthday,” I tell him, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of my drunk mouth. Ashton nods understandingly.
“Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry,” he shrugs as the grin on his face slightly morphs into something resembling pity.
“It’s fine. Wanna dance?” I grab Ashton’s hand and he laughs, dancing with me in the middle of the crowd.
The flashing lights and the loud music mixed with the abundance of alcohol running through me makes my adrenaline spike, and I feel like I could dance all night .
My eyes close as I move my hips to the beat of the song, my arms flying over my head as I run my hands through my curly hair slowly, feeling the long strands slide through my fingers.
Ashton’s large hands find my hips, squeezing lightly, making me aware they’re there. It feels good to be touched. I don’t even tell him to get his hands off of me. I just continue to dance, and Ashton steps closer to me until our faces are inches away. His hands move off my hips slowly until I feel them hit my upper thigh behind me.
My eyes pop open when his hands cup my ass under my skirt. I attempt to back away, but Ashton’s grip only tightens around me.
I look frantically around the room for a sign of my friends, but I can’t find them. I have no idea where they went.
Ashton’s face gets closer to mine as he whispers something in my ear, causing me to freeze completely.
“Let’s head upstairs,” he says.
I may be drunk, but I’m not that drunk.
“I think I’d rather stay down here with my friends. But thank you,” I say politely, not trying to piss this guy off as I don’t know him or how he’ll react to being rejected.
He chuckles almost sinisterly. “Come on, let’s have some fun. You know you want to.”
The scent of whiskey mixed with weed hits my nose, and I have to keep my face from scrunching up at the smell. This guy is fucking gone, and he’s not going to leave me alone, is he?
I place my hands on his hard chest, pushing myself away as much as I can with his grip still on me.
“Thank you for the dance, but I really have to find my friends,” I plead, hoping he’ll just let me go. But of course, he doesn’t. Instead, his hands move slowly from my ass, up my back, and around to my face. He cups my cheeks and leans in.
“Don’t be a fucking tease. Come upstairs with me,” he demands. Adrenaline courses through me, a hint of fright hidden deep inside me. I begin to tremble slightly in his grasp as his face gets closer, his lips hovering over mine.
Before his lips meet mine however, his hands leave my cheeks as he’s pulled back and thrown to the ground .
Ryker stands above Ashton’s body on the ground. I’m too stunned to move. I’d forgotten all about Ryker and the fact that he lives in this house.
He looks down at Ashton, his face pulled into a furious expression, one I’ve never seen before. He looks like he wants to kill Ashton. Ashton looks up at Ryker with his arms up in surrender.
“What the fuck, man?” he asks. Ryker appears to be holding back his anger, but I can see it emanating off of his large body.
“She said no. Now get the fuck out of my house before I drag you out of here myself,” Ryker threatens. Why am I finding this side of him so attractive?
Also, why is he protecting me? I’ve been such a bitch to him, and even though sometimes he deserves it, maybe I’ve been a little too harsh on him.
Maybe I’ve been so blinded by the rage I felt the first few times we spoke to realize that Ryker isn’t that guy. Not all the time, at least not with me.
Ashton crawls backwards a bit until he’s out of reach. Ryker watches him intently, fuming, as Ashton stumbles to his feet but doesn’t seem to be making a move for the door.
Oh, you idiot. Just leave now before the situation escalates.
But Ashton doesn’t leave. Instead, he steps closer to Ryker whose fists are clenched at his side.
“What, are you two fucking or something?” Ashton taunts. “We could share, ya know, she doesn’t look like she’d mind.”
My cheeks heat and my own hands ball into fists as I hold back the urge to punch this guy in the face. Who does he think he is? I step up to yell at him for his disgusting comment, but before I can, Ryker rears his fist back and punches Ashton in the face. The sound of something crunching and a splatter of blood let me know that Ashton’s nose is likely broken.
Ashton’s hands fly to his bleeding nose, blood sputtering out as he says, “Not into sharing, huh? ”
This guy doesn’t stop. If he had even a sliver of a brain cell, he’d turn around and walk away.
Ryker takes another step forward, raising his fist like he’s ready to punch Ashton again, but I grab him before he can. As much as I want to see Ashton suffer, Ryker doesn’t need to defend me. I don’t want him to.
Ryker’s eyes meet mine, then move down to look at my tiny hand on his massive arm. I feel his body relax a bit under my touch as he backs up to stand next to me.
Grabbing my hand, he begins to drag me to the exit. I’m still so intoxicated I can barely walk in a straight line, and I do want to leave. But I have to find my friends to tell them I’m going home. I wonder if they saw what just happened.
As we come up to the door, I tug my arm away from him and stop in my tracks. My mind is foggy and the room around me seems to be spinning more than it was a few minutes ago. The adrenaline I felt mere moments ago has begun to dissipate, and my inhibitions are questionable at best.
I don’t know how I feel about Ryker stepping in and saving me. I’m pissed that he thought I needed saving. I’m thankful because I did need saving. I don’t know what would have happened if Ryker didn’t step in, but I’d never admit that to him.
But the reaction that has me questioning what the hell is wrong with me is the way my heart feels like it’ll fly out of my chest at any moment, the way my nipples pebbled under my small top, the pressure building low in my belly.
Am I seriously turned on by Ryker Steele?