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“No, stay with me. I need you,” he says. Impossibly, my heart swells even more. “After this, we’ll go out to celebrate.”
I nod. I could resist him if I wanted to, but I find that I don’twantto. I actually want to be here with him, supporting him—and that feeling catches me off guard.
As I stand by his side, it feels like I get a glimpse of what my life could be like if I choose to stay with him—it’s even better than I imagined. Even though he’s engrossed in conversation with the Kingmakers who come to congratulate him, he has his arm wrapped around my waist. Sometimes, he runs his thumb along the sliver of flesh on the inside of my elbow, other times he’s rubbing soothing circles into the small of my back.
The anxiety I expect to feel about being pulled into his life like this doesn’t come, instead I’m filled with a sense ofbelonging? It’s like he actually wants me around, as if by just existing as I am, I’m valuable to him. He’s not treating me like a treasure to hoard, to lock away from everyone. No, he’s actually showing me off—and I kind of like it.
It’s a new feeling. A different one.
One I quite like.
One I could get used to.
* * *
When Alex mentioned a celebration,I was expecting some kind of stuffy party befitting their weird little “brotherhood.” I was preparing myself to be cooped up in a ballroom somewhere, dressed in an evening gown and drinking wine out of goblets while I pretended to care about whatever current event they were talking about.
I got it all wrong.
The six of us piled into Ezra’s Range Rover a few hours after the results were announced and drove into the city, where Alex booked out the entire top floor of the most lavish hotel he could find. We’re on our third bar for the night—with plans to visit one more before we head back to the hotel.
I’ve learned a valuable lesson.
A Kingmaker ‘celebration’ is basically getting batshit drunk on the most expensive liquor a bar has to offer, acting rowdy in the establishment—with the patrons, never the staff—and then leaving a ridiculous tip before doing it all over again a few blocks over.
I’ve had enough drinks that it’s a miracle I’m still standing.
Alex has been drinking nearly non-stop and he looks mostly fine. It’s only when he goes to speak that I can tell he’s had a few too many. We’re in one of the VIP booths overlooking the dance-floor, in a dark corner that’s quieter than the rest of the place. Tara is trying to get Ezra to dance with her, and for all their bickering, Vance and Nya are quite cozy sharing an appetizer at one of the tables in our section.
Enough alcohol bridges any gap, it seems.
The music thrums in my skull, and the strobe lights have my head spinning. I lean my head on Alex’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly against his chest. I’m half-seated on his lap, grinding to the rhythm of the music.
My skirt is hiked up to my thighs, the fabric of his jeans a scintillating friction against my skin. One of my hands travels to his crotch—his cock is hard and I tease him with a roll of my hips. There’s a burning fire begging to be sated in my abdomen, and I’m pretty sure my panties are soaked.
With the alcohol stripping away my inhibitions, all I’m left with is my lust.
Anddamnis it trying to convince me to do some risqué things.
“You know what I can’t stop thinking about?” Alex slurs, his voice skating over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He runs his tongue lazily along my neck.
My breath catches when his hands move to cup my breast. Without my coat, I’m dressed in just a thin silk blouse. I’m thankful past Alize didn’t think to wear a bra with this outfit.
I love that bitch.
“Tell me,” I say, arching until his fingers ghost my pebbled nipples. The friction travels straight to the heat pooling in my core.
He kisses me. “Fucking you in the ass with nothing but an engagement ring on.”
I hold up my left hand, wiggling my bare index for him to see. What he’s said is completely, absolutelyridiculous,but for a moment I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy with him. “That’s too bad,” I tease. “Because I don’t have an engagement ring.”
We’re not engaged,I want to say. But I don’t because it doesn’t feel right. For all intents and purposes, we are. It was just never real to me.
Alex growls in response, rising with me in his arms. There’s a wild look in his eye and a huge grin on his face—I can’t tell what he’s thinking, only that he’s drunk and presumably as horny as I am. “We should fix that, then,” he says.
I hold my head back and laugh. “An engagement ring?” I can’t hide my disbelief. “My collar isn’t enough anymore?” I hiss, tugging at the necklace around my neck.
The one he put there.
