Cruz kisses me deeply, dominantly and forceful, almost as though he’s claiming me for the world to see, and I don’t care one fucking bit. He can have me as long as I can have his friends. When he pulls away, he meets my eyes with a heated stare, and I wonder again how my night is going to end.
He winks and just like that, he sinks back into the crowded bodies and I turn back to face Ember only to find her mouth hanging wide open. “Umm …. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” she demands, making me realize that over the past week, I’ve failed to mention that I’ve been screwing two of the hottest guys in town.
A wicked grin stretches across my face. “Uhh … a birthday kiss.”
“That was more than a birthday kiss,” she reprimands, forgetting about her grinding boyfriend behind her. “Have you been hooking up with Cruz Danforth?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I mean … define hooking up?”
Ember’s jaw drops to the ground. “Holy fuck. You have been, you filthy little whore. Tell me all about it. He fucks like a damn king, doesn’t he? Oh, shit. I need to hear every last detail.”
I shake my head. “Not yet, girl. You’re going to have to get me wicked drunk before I start spilling that shit.”
Ember nods as though I just set the biggest challenge of her life, and within the blink of an eye, she grabs my hand and drags me back to the bar.
The bartender instantly recognizes me, and seeing the determination on Ember’s face, begins lining up more shots. I groan, realizing that tonight is going to be one of the messiest nights of my life, but I can’t freaking wait.
CHAPTER 32
The heel of my black thigh-high boot trips over someone’s discarded shoe and I go tumbling to the ground until a pair of strong hands grip my arms and yank me back to my feet. Glancing up, ready to thank my strong savior, I meet Grayson’s stormy glare instead, and the words are instantly swallowed back down.
“Watch it,” he snaps at me. “Are you fucking drunk?”
I roll my eyes. “Ahhh, duh. It’s my party after all. It wouldn’t be any fun if I was being the sober dick hiding in the shadows—like you are. Tell me, have you ever heard of having fun? You know, I bet you’d be a lot happier if you took that stick out of your ass. It’s gotta hurt being wedged so far up there.”
Grayson just shakes his head and starts dragging me through the crowd. He cuts through the hundreds of bodies before coming to the edge of the room and slamming his shoulder into a door. It opens through to a massive kitchen that’s as empty as they come, and just when I think he’s brought me in here to kill me, he makes his way over to the cupboard and grabs a glass.
I watch in confusion as he fills the glass with filtered water and drops a few ice cubes in, giving me a quick second to scan my gaze over the tattoos of his back, but before I can really appreciate them or even figure out what half of it is, he turns back around. “Here,” he says with a pissed-off scowl, as though catering to me is the most irritating thing he has ever suffered through. Though he should be reminded from time to time that I’ve never asked for his help. Never have and never will. “Drink this.”
Not one to pass up a free hand out, I take the water, and the second I bring it to my lips, I tilt my head back and finish the whole glass. “Holy crap. Thanks,” I say, needing to catch my breath after drinking too fast. “I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”
Grayson nods and silently takes the glass out of my hand before refilling it and bringing it back to me. He places it down on the counter in front of me, and my finger instantly catches the drop of water that glides down the outside of the glass. “Why are you being nice all of a sudden?” I ask, struggling to raise my eyes to meet his as they get stuck on the tattoos that cover his wide chest, taking in the haunting skull design that travels over his peck and up to his shoulder.
Grayson shrugs and hoists himself up onto the counter and as he does, my eyes glide over the wings that frame the skull, and while I can’t be completely sure, my gut is telling me that these are the wings of a raven.
“There’s a difference between being a decent person and a nice one,” Grayson tells me, stealing my attention away from his ink. “Getting a drunk chick a glass of water to help sober her up so she doesn’t end up date raped is just being a decent human being. Don’t get your wires crossed here. Besides, the way you’re dressed, you’re bound to have the wrong attention come at you at some point.” I groan, ready to cut him off as anger begins to surge through me, but he’s on a roll. “Honestly, after the bullshit that happened to you the other week, anyone would think that you’d make smarter choices.”