Do I trust Dax?
Of course, we aren’t together and he doesn’t owe me anything and maybe he’d just bail if someone came knocking on my door who shouldn’t be there but…I don’t think so. I meant what I told Storm. He seems…honorable. Although the way he’s touching me right now, maybe I could make him less than that.
“It’ll be boring,” I tell him. Even thoughIwant to have sex, I don’t want him to expect we’re hooking up. It’s not my house. My little brother will be there. And who knows when my parents will come back.
“I don’t mind,” Dax says, and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, I think he means it. His finger edges beneath the hem of my skirt but in a playful way. A way I like. “I’ll get us a cab, you tell Tyli bye or she’ll be very displeased, then we can go?”
I bite my bottom lip as I stare at him.
I want to fuck you.
His hand smooths down my skirt, then I feel his fingers on my thighs. I let my knees fall apart, wanting to go, but wanting him inside of me, too.
Henry will be okay for an hour, won’t he?
Dax trails his fingers to the edge of my lilac lace underwear and I breathe in hard, my chest heaving as I hold his gaze.
“Please.”It’s a breath of a word.
“Please?” he repeats in a softly mocking tone. He runs his entire hand over me, the thin fabric between us.
“Yes, please, Dax.” I widen my knees more and he smiles at me, teasing in his eyes.
“Are you wet, Sloane?”
“Find out,” I dare him. My phone is still balanced on my core but as my inhales and exhales grow shorter, more frantic, I wonder if it’ll fall off.
“Lift your shirt,” Dax orders me.
I slide one hand up the edge of my crop top and pull it higher, and higher, then I dip my fingers under the unlined cups of my lavender bralette and pull both it and my top up, exposing my hard nipple to him, the other still covered.
“Fuck,” Dax whispers, running his hand over me, taunting me. “Pinch your nipple.”
My body is hot all over at his command, at his eyes on me, roaming over every inch. I cup my breast, then draw out my pink nipple, watching him watch me.
“Harder.” It’s a directive. I didn’t expect that from him but I like it.
It makes meneedhim. “Finger me first,” I tell him.
He lightly slaps me over my underwear and I flinch, then do exactly as he said. I twist my nipple enough to hurt and he slips his fingers beneath the side of my underwear and he’s right there, right at my clit, his bottom lip between his teeth when I hear a familiar voice.
“God, Sloane, you listen so well, baby.”
I suck in a breath as Dax moves his hand and turns, his body partially shielding mine. My phone is still balanced precariously over my low belly, one hand on my nipple, the other keeping my shirt up.
And I see Storm Leary, even over Dax’s head, his pale gaze sweeping over my body as he pinches a cigarette between his fingers and inhales. The smell of nicotine fills the air between us and I should move. Cover myself. Sit up. But I’m motionless, and my brain is warring inside my head: I’m not doing anything wrong, and what the fuck is Storm doing here in the first place?
“Can I help you?” Dax asks, the nearly-empty bottle of vodka clenched tighter in his fingers as he holds it by the neck.
Storm exhales smoke through his nose as he smiles, but not at Dax. That cold expression is all for me. “Yeah,” Storm says lazily. He slowly rakes his gaze from me to Dax. “You can get the fuck out of my way.”
Dax bristles, his shoulders tense as he lifts his chin. He’s not quite as tall as Storm but he doesn’t back down, either. “I think we’re good right here,” Dax says, his voice angry. “Find somewhere else to be a fucking creep.”
Storm smiles again, flashing his teeth. He takes one more drag from the cigarette, then exhales this time through his mouth, right in Dax’s face.
Dax doesn’t flinch.
My thighs are still wide and my body is tense and I need to get home to Henry but when I open my mouth, I find I’m not sure what to say.
