“Your heart’s beatingfast,” I murmur near his ear.
I feel his chest move as he takes a deep breath. “Sometimes alcohol does that to me.”
“Is that your same excuse for this?”
I reach down and quickly brush my palm over his cock through his pants. It’s hard as a fucking rock for me, as expected.
He grips my wrist and shoves my palm away. “Christ, Niko, we’re in the middle of the room.”
I pretend to be a gentleman and take my hand away before anyone in the crowd around us sees.
Part of me can barely believe I’m doing any of this.
I need to be here.
At this party.
And somehow, my rage was stoked even further when I saw some stranger’s lips onmyboyfriend’s skin. Mynot-boyfriend. Whether this is fake or not, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not letting the whole world see that I’d let something or someone I care about be taken like that.
Or maybe I’m just as crazy as Ollie always thought I was.
A shadow, like smoke.
Overtaking everything until I can barely breathe.
I move up further, sucking on his earlobe then giving that a bite, too.
“I’mnotyours, and we both know it,” he protests, but I feel him leaning into my body anyway. “What’s with you?”
“Had a bad fucking evening. Need something to claim. You’re here.”
He exhales as I kiss the spot just below his ear. “What made your night bad?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit. I want to hear about it, and you’re up in my fucking business right now.”
“Ollie, if you want people to think something’shappening between us, we have to do things in public. And ideally, you should stay off your knees for other men at parties. Understand?”
“It was just a stupid drinking game.”
I slide my hand up his throat, holding it there for a moment.
Like a collar.
He looks so good like that.
“You’d like how this looks,” I murmur at him. “My tattoos look good around your neck. Want a picture of it?”
My cock throbs.
Oliver’s eyes scan my face, looking me over like he’s studying me, deciding how he should react to my hand being on his neck.
I don’t bother trying to hide how much I’m enjoying it. I give it a little squeeze before sliding my hand away, moving my fingertips down to his palm. I swirl my fingertips over his open hand for a moment, and he watches the tattoo on the back of my hand as I move.
I don’t understand how Oliver can be so innocent sometimes.
Innocent, but fucking filthy underneath.
