“Which one is he anyway?” Bouchard asks as Mack and Kelsier wind down their argument.
“The idiot with the blue button-down shirt who thinks having his hair lick up like that in front is cool,” Ash says. He kisses the bare spot of my shoulder near my neck, and I’m not entirely sure we’re acting anymore.
Ash’s thumb strokes between my legs, and my traitorous body pushes into the touch. My hips undulate of their own accord as if to encourage him, and I try to force myself to sit still.
I feel Ash smile against my shoulder before he plants a kiss there.
“Does that feel good?” he says so only I can hear.
My answer is a soft moan as he squeezes my thigh again, and I wonder once more how much he’s had to drink already. His voice doesn’t sound slurred, but he’s clearly had enough to make him a little horny.
“Easy there, you two,” Fig says, chuckling. “Maybe you should take this out onto the dance floor before you get the couch all wet.”
My face heats as I realize how shameless I’ve been acting in front of Ash’s teammates. I’m sure they must deal with this all the time from puck bunnies, but I hate the idea of being yet another woman just rubbing myself all over a hockey player.
“Good idea,” Ash says, and I squeak in surprise as he stands, taking me with him. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor. I barely manage to down another gulp of wine and set the glass downbefore we go.
It’s mostly women dancing in groups out on the floor, but there are a few couples dancing as well. And by dancing, I mean the man sways from side to side while drinking his beer as his girlfriend gyrates on him. There’s only one couple that’s really into it, and they’re practically fucking each other. If they didn’t have clothes on, she’d be pregnant by now.
Ash swings me around and pulls me against him as he starts to move to the music. What we’re doing is somewhere between the dry humping couple and the other couples, but at least we’re still a few stages away from needing a pregnancy test.
“I thought you didn’t dance,” I say as he tightens his arm around me.
He shrugs. “I don’t usually have a reason to.”
The hand not holding my waist threads into my hair, and one of his knees presses between mine.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I don’t want to put you in the middle of my drama with Drew.”
“It’s no problem,” he says. “You’re doing me a favor, so I’m happy to help.”
“I’m getting paid very well to do you that favor,” I remind him.
He shrugs again. “Fine, then maybe you’ll just owe me.”
I don’t get a chance to respond because he flips me around so my back is pressed to his chest. He takes one of my wrists and pulls it up to pin it against his shoulder. His other hand slides down my body to splay across my stomach and pull me back against him. He grinds his hips into me, and I can feel his erection against my backside.
“Drew can’t take his eyes off you right now,” Ash reports.
Drew? Drew who?
“Does he have a longing look on his face?” I ask.
“He’s practically drooling.”
“Then he’s probably looking atyou,” I say. “I didn’t realize he was such a hockey fan.”
He chuckles. “Should I slip him my number?”
“Hey! What happened to Code Ex?” I ask, feigning offense. “I thought exes are off-limits.”
“Fair enough.” He runs his hand back up my body to my sternum. My nipples peak again instantly, then tighten even more as his thumb brushes the side of one breast.
I hope he doesn’t hear the whimper that escapes me, but he must because he says, “God, your body is so damn responsive.”
I’m about to apologize when I catch sight of someone else I recognize across the room. I gasp and spin around again to hide my face in Ash’s chest. Shit, shit, Shit!
“What’s wrong?” Ash asks. He grasps my upper arms and tries to pull me away, but I hold onto his shirt for dear life.
