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I’m just starting to really feel it, waving my arms in the air with Matt as we dance to some song I’ve never even heard before, when I hear Carter yell, “Travis!”
It’s a testament to just how drunk I am that there’s no fear or panic at the realization that we’ve been joined by the man I usually avoid like the plague. In fact, the only reason I whip around to look is because Travis being here means Maison must be too.
There’s a moment where my gaze catches on Carter and Travis though, seeing them wrap their arms around each other like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I still have no idea what Maison and I are doing, but I know this isn’t the audience I want to figure it out in front of. That means I should probably keep my hands to myself, even if Maison is looking… fucking hot as fucking fuck, dressed in tight black clothes with scruff that’s grown into a short beard.
“God, you’re so hot,” Carter says. I know it’s meant for Travis, but I can’t help but agree with the sentiment as I look at Maison some more.
“Thank you,” Travis says as Maison’s gaze finally finds mine. His eyes do that thing—that look thing—that one that makes me feel like I’m going to dissolve into a fucking puddle.
“Let’s go have hot sex,” Carter says.
Yes, I think. Yes, let’s go do that right the fuck now, Maison.
Travis turns Carter down, making him whine and pout.
“Oh my god, you’re being so desperate, Carter,” Bryce says with a laugh. “Stop it.”
“Who the fuck can blame him? He wants to get fucked. I want to get fucked. Maison, do you want to fuck me?”
It isn’t until Carter whips around to look at me with wide eyes that I realize I fucking said that out loud. I hiccup. The hiccup throws me off balance, making me stumble a little. Drinking water makes hiccups go away, right? There’s no water around, so I settle for another swig of tequila.
“Okay, party animal,” someone says in a low, rumbly voice. My belly warms. Maison. I smile. Then frown when I realize he’s prying my fingers off the tequila bottle, stealing it from me. “Time to stop.”
“Rude.” I sway a little. I clearly needed that bottle for my balance! “Rudest.”
“Super rude,” he agrees, stroking my cheek with his thumb. It feels so fucking good I could cry. I nearly do cry when he pulls away but calm down when I realize he’s just moving so he can wrap an arm around my waist. He starts guiding me away from the others. I don’t particularly mind. “How about we get you to bed, huh?”
I stop pouting. “To fuck?”
Maison’s eyes get all stormy like they do when he’s feeling intense about something or giving me all of his focus. The look goes straight to my cock. Then he ruins it by saying, “I think sleep would be a better idea tonight.”
“Oh.” I consider that. He’s pretty smart. And sober. Maybe it’d be worth listening to him. If he was my master, I’d have to listen to him. The thought shouldn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like, it really shouldn’t. “Still with you, though?”
He smiles. “Of course. I’ve missed you too much to let you sleep in your own bed tonight.”
“Missed you too,” I admit. We’re still walking. Well, he’s mostly doing the walking. I’m sort of just stumbling along while leaning against him. “You’re very strong. And, like—like—um. There’s a word for it.”
“Watch your step,” he murmurs, practically lifting me onto the first step of the staircase.
“Reliable? Is that the word?” The staircase feels excessively long. Has it always been this long? Who the fuck extended the staircase? I’d like to have a word with them. Several words. “Sturdy. Wait, no. That’s not it either.”
He’s practically carrying me by the time we reach his room. I blink and we’re approaching his bed. It’s a little dizzying, like we teleported.
“You are reliable and sturdy,” I assure him, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings. “But those aren’t the words I mean in this particular scenario.”
“This what?” he asks with a chuckle as he sits me down on the edge of the bed.
I fall to the left, but he catches me and sits me up again, this time without letting go of my shoulders. “Huh?”
“I understood but those aren’t the words I mean in this—but then you lost me.”
I blink at him. What the hell is he talking about?
“Never mind, baby.” He smiles. It’s warm and fond and a whimper catches in my throat at the sight of it. “Let’s get you to sleep. You can explain in the morning, okay?”
Explain what? Was I saying something? Was it important?
“Your eyes are very blue,” I inform him. Wait, no, that wasn’t what I wanted to say. Damnit, what was it? “I love you.”
