“You know what.”
“Refresh my memory,” I taunt.
His stare is hard, but then something flashes in his eyes, and it lightens. It goes back to the normal look I’m used to. The playful, needy look.
“If you want me to suck your cock, Jordan, all you have to do is ask.” I hold back the groan over those words, just the thought of him getting me off again has me hard in my slacks. He steps so close I feel the heat of his body. “Actually, you don’t even have to ask. Just say yes.”
I take in a long, slow breath, not pulling my eyes from his. I’m not going to say a goddamn word to him. I’m not really there yet, I guess.
“And if I don’t want you to?” I say after a moment.
“Stop fucking staring at me.”
He turns on his heel and walks away. His ass has never looked better.
Chapter Eighteen
Alex
I swear to God, Jordan Mackenzie is going to be the death of me.
I feel his gaze on me like a burning fire as I walk away. He's baiting me, and I know it.
"You're cute when you're mad."
His words echo in my brain as I head back to the dancefloor, loosening my tie. Hearing him call me anything other than annoying or a pain in the ass is great, but hearing him call me cute? Well…
God, it's too fucking hot in here.
Maybe that's just me. Or maybe it has everything to do with the man burning a hole into my back with his gaze from a room away.
"Brewer! There you are!" Andre shouts as Hudson, Trey, and Paul raise their glasses along with the bridesmaids.Britt squeezes her way through the crowd and hands me a small glass full of pink liquid. I sniff it and she rolls her eyes. I don't bother to ask what it is. Britt knows my tastes better than most people. I've never been much of a beer or whiskey guy, like my dad and brother.
I prefer my drinks with little umbrellas and lots of sugar to balance out the bite. The tart vodka burns my throat and I relish in the feel. Hudson bounces around off beat while Trey fistbumps the air, his tie wrapped around his head, and Paul and Andre are sandwiched with their bridesmaid partners. I look around as I take a long sip of my drink. The second swig burns, but it feels good.
Savannah is surrounded by her bridesmaids, and I have no clue where Austen is. Part of me wonders if I should go find him.
"Wanna dance?" Britt asks, her hand sliding underneath my elbow.
"Aren't you tired of dancing with me?" I quip before draining my drink.
"Never," she says sweetly as she wraps her arms around my neck. I toss my cup on the edge of the nearest table. The DJ puts on “Right Round” by Flo Rida and Ke$ha, and everyone around us starts hollering and jumping up and down. Warning: I will laugh if the girls break a heel and fall.
"Your dancing skills are only second to your trick shot."
"Mhmmm," I murmur, shooting her a sarcastic glare, but I settle my hands on her hips all the same. "I'll show you a trick shot, baby."
I take her hands in mine and spin her around, twirling her like a figure skater. She giggles, her dress flowing like waves of magenta and violet, spinning and spinning until she falls into my arms with a laugh, her head falling back, pink curls falling over her shoulder. She runs her hands down my chest, bringing herself closer to me, and I'm acutely aware of how close she is. Her bright eyes stare up at me, and she smiles.
"He's been staring at you all night, you know," she whispers, her lips inches away from mine.
"Brittany," I bite out. "Fuck, don't—"
"You should talk to him." Her hands slide down my chest as her lips find my ear.
I find her hands with mine, holding them in place.
"He's coming over here," she says, her hand sliding over my heart. "Act natural."
