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“Did Bex say something to you?” I ask.
Jamie shakes his head. “No, I know Preston. We have a signal.”
“But we came here together…” I’m somewhat deflated. “I can’t believe Bex didn’t say anything to me.”
Drake appears at my side and presses his big hand to my shoulder, his massive body invading my personal space. I shake off his heavy hand. Who does he think he is? I didn’t give him permission to touch me.
“I can give you a ride,” Drake offers.
Yeah, I’m sure he can.
“I can Uber it back to campus,” I spit back.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says over the loud music. “I can drive you.”
“Don’t call me stupid.”
Before he can say another word, I slip through the crowd, desperate for some fresh air. But I have a feeling I won’t get rid of Drake quite that fast. Nope, that dick-pic-loving weirdo is right behind me.
Chapter Five
Drake
Following behind Taylor, I push my way through the crowded club. She’s such a pain in my ass. Of course, she couldn’t stay with Jamie and Shannon. This girl loves to make me chase after her. And that’s why I like her so much. She has a strange hold over me, one I have yet to understand.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her while she was dancing on the bar. Every guy in the club grunted and cheered, throwing money at their feet like they were strippers sliding down poles. The few times Taylor looked down, she locked eyes with me, singling me out. My heart raced with each movement of her hips. Every time her big tits bounced out from the tight top she’s wearing.
This girl will be the death of me. She doesn’t even like me, and yet I can’t get enough of her.
Once I find her, I reach for her, wrapping my arms around her stomach, pulling her back against my hard chest.
I swipe some hair away from her face and off her shoulder, while she tilts her head to the side. A few minutes ago she acted like she hated my guts, and now she’s letting me touch her. She doesn’t even know me to hate me.
I have to change her opinion. But how do I do that? She thinks all I want is sex.
Well, I guess I have to prove that there’s more to Drake Donovan other than hockey and sex.
I release my hold on her, and she staggers over toward the wall beneath the stairs that lead to the second floor. She leans back against the wall, pressing her heel to the painted brick. We stare at each other, unsure of what to say.
Without a word, she steals the beer from my hand and tilts the bottle to her lips. She takes a few sips before a smile stretches across her lips. She hands the bottle back to me with a defiant look on her face.
I cock an eyebrow at her, confused by her sudden change of behavior.
She looks so fucking pretty with her long, dark hair framing her face. As usual, she’s not wearing makeup, just that pink gloss that makes my dick rock hard when she rubs her pouty lips together. I move closer, and for some reason, she doesn’t stop me. Our mouths are so close I can feel her breath on my lips and notice the slightest change in her breathing.
She wants me.
Her body tells me so.
There’s no denying she does, not when her nipples are so hard they’re poking through her tight tank and rubbing against my chest. She stills in front of me, unmoving, as if waiting in anticipation of a kiss.
Should I kiss her?
Do I make a move?
I have no clue if she’ll hit me or kiss me back.
Before I can make a decision, she speaks against my lips. “I’m hungry.” She rubs her flat stomach, the seam of her shirt riding up to expose some of her bare flesh. “Take me to get something to eat, and then you can take me home.”
“You’re so bossy,” I counter.
“You said you would take me home. Either you want to or not. And if you do, I want to get food on the way home.”
“How about one more drink before we go?”
She ponders my question for far too long and then nods. “Okay. One drink and then we’re out of here, you got it?”
For someone who doesn’t have a car, she’s awfully controlling. But I don’t mind Taylor telling me what to do. My attraction to her increases with every angry look or nasty comment she makes. What would normally chase me away is somehow keeping me more interested in her. I love feisty women. And I love the way she snaps at me, always a comeback on the tip of her tongue.
After I get two beers from the bar, I steer her toward the dance floor, where the club is in full swing. Hundreds of people surround us. Sweat glistens off the bodies of those grinding on each other. Using my body, I shield Taylor from everyone and push our way through the crowd, moving her in front of me. I slide my left hand to her hip, the other on her shoulder as I steer us away from the masses.
