Relenting, I sag against him. “I wish you’d told me earlier. I’ve been thinking you were regretting bringing me with you.”
The hand at my waist tightens. “God, no. I just… didn’t want to say anything to anyone in case it doesn’t pan out. I haven’t told any of my crew, and I can’t decide if it makes me an asshole or not.”
I study the swirling emotions in his eyes. There’s more to this—gotta be. I smooth the lapel of his coat, thrilling over the silky glide of my hand against the fabric, under the guise of trying to lend some support to this giant pain in my ass of a friend.
“So. You’re nervous about the guys finding out. And you’re also nervous you aren’t going to get a call back.”
His chin dips. “Something like that, yeah.”
I inhale a steadying breath as the rest of my anger ebbs away. He’s obviously in turmoil, and I am nothing if not a problem solver. If he were a girlfriend going through troubling times, I’d suggest we go drinking. Why’s it any different just because he’s a guy?
“Well. We’re in luck.” I infuse my voice with every ounce of positivity I possess, hoping he won’t see through my fake enthusiasm. This night has been a roller coaster fortoo long. It’s time to turn the table on how the evening ends. “Times like these call for getting shit-faced. Lucky for us, there’s a fully stocked, open bar right inside, and that DJ is rockin’. A good dance party is always the right medicine, almost as good as mountain air. And it just so happens, I look and feel like a million bucks?—”
“You absolutely do.” He gives me a wolfish smile.
I pat his lapel, pretending he hasn’t just melted my panties. “And you look almost as dazzling. Let’s go do some shots and turn some heads. We can worry about the rest in the morning.”
One round turns into three, and Jackson has lost his coat, his tie hangs loose around his neck, and the top button of his shirt is undone.
By round five, I’m giddy and laughing. The music is decidedly raunchier, and I’m hanging on to him to stay upright on the dance floor.
By round seven, or maybe eight, things are fuzzy around the edges, but there is definitely some grinding action.
And by morning, I stumble out of a bathroom I don’t recognize to find a naked Jackson passed out in a bed that isn’t mine.
Oh shit.
Chapter Five
Jackson
“Jax.”
Fucking hell, my headthumps. And the world is shifting around me. Spinning, twirling, rolling… No, wait, that’s me. I’m spinning.
“Jackson.”
A husky female voice washes over me, and my dick goes rock hard. I think I’m the reason for that rasp. God, I hope so. Pretty sure I remember something about making her scream my name. Or maybe that was a dream. I float away, cupping my erection in hopes of finding that dream again.
“For god’s sake. Turn loose of your dick and wake up.”
I’m shoved. Hard. And jolt awake. That raspy voice belongs to Magnolia.
I peel my eyes open and cuss, slamming them closed again. I toss an arm over my face. “Turn off the lights.” Jesus Christ. My throat is made of gravel.
There’s a snicker and some shuffling, then the bed jostles again. “There. Wake up, Kermit.”
“What the fuck, Magnolia? We had an agreement.” I try to blink my eyes. Nope, still too much light.
Wait. My hand’s on my dick.
My naked dick.
In front of Maggie.
I jolt upright and leap from the bed. The hand on my cock is now doing a piss-poor job of covering me and the very solid staff standing straight out in front of me.
“Pretty sure I’ve already seen all of you. And then some. Up close and personal. Quit acting like a prude.”
