I keep going. “And that guy—Matt—hewants to kiss me. He wanted to kiss me all night. Next time, I’m letting him.”
“Yeah,” Bree agrees, swaying a little. “He was totally hot.”
“I’msoover Jaxon Kane.”
She nods solemnly. “Preach.”
I sit up straighter, summoning whatever remnants of dignity I can. “In fact... I’m going to tell him.”
Bree’s head snaps toward me. “Wait, what?”
I push myself up from the couch, a little wobbly on my feet, my dress tugging awkwardly as I get my balance. “I am. I’m going to tell him that I don’t need him to kiss me anymore. Because someoneelsealready did. Or... will. Soon.”
“Youshould.” Bree slaps the couch for emphasis. “You go give that cocky bastard a piece of your mind.”
I nod, determined and fully committed to this plan that I probably would not commit to if I were sober.
I start to walk out of the room, brushing my fingers along the doorframe like that’ll steady me, when the girl from earlier—the one who looked annoyed—steps into my path.
Her smirk is lazy and unimpressed. “Looking for Jax?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound mature. And… not drunk.
I think I nail it.
She doesn’t agree. The corner of her mouth quirks up just slightly, like she finds me amusing.
“He’s upstairs,” she says. “Second door on the left.”
I expected her to be catty but she’s surprisingly helpful. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t answer—just turns back to her friend, laughter already spilling between them before I’m even out of earshot.
Each stair creaks under my heels, my hand trailing along the banister. My pulse hammers in my ears, my mouth dry. I feel both too heavy and too light, like gravity can’t decide what to do with me.
But I keep climbing.
He doesn’t get to ruin tonight. Not after the way he looked at me. Made me believe—if only for a second—that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt it.
Second door on the left.
My hand hesitates on the knob, just for a heartbeat. Then I turn it.
The door swings open, light spilling in from the hall.
At first, the shapes don’t make sense—just a tangle of limbs, skin, hair. Disjointed. Abstract.
Then it sharpens.
Jaxon sits sprawled on a couch, a massive bed behind him. Shirtless. Pants unzipped. His cock thick in one woman’s hand while another kisses the tip, both of them naked and laughing like they’ve done this before.
One leans in, moaning around him. The other strokes him lazily, eyes fixed on his face like they’re sharing a private joke. Then they kiss over him—tongues, wet sounds—before trading places, one swallowing him down while the other licks at the base.
My stomach drops. The warmth of the beer evaporates, leaving me cold and clear-headed in the worst way.
Jaxon hasn’t noticed me yet. His arms stretch across the back of the cushions, his head tipped back, enjoying the two women on their knees like a shared prize.
Then he lifts his head.
