Lifting his head, he pierces me with smoldering brown eyes. “You beg me with your eyes every time you glance in my direction.”
His smug smirk snaps me out of my lust-fueled haze, and I push him away. “You’re delusional and so full of yourself it’s a wonder your head fits through the door.”
“I’m not the delusional one, babe, but suit yourself.” He casts a glance over his shoulder, and the blonde comes running. “I have no shortage of offers.” He circles his arm around the girl, and she instantly snuggles into his side, staring adoringly at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky. “Last chance, princess.” His eyes glint with wicked intent.
I flip him the bird, and he pins me with a lopsided grin before he lowers his head and plasters his mouth to the blonde’s.
A weird fluttering feeling skates across my chest as I watch him kiss her. Everett chuckles at my expression, and I narrowmy eyes at him just as Uma reappears. “What did I miss?” she asks, looking between us.
“Nothing.” I grab the wine cooler from her hand. “Not a single thing.” I pull her out of the kitchen and over to the main living area, finding some empty space just off to the side of the room. Drunken guys and girls dance on the makeshift dance floor as someone raises the volume on the music and beats bounce off the walls. We knock back our drinks and join the heaving masses.
I try to avoid looking at Zayn, but my eyes are traitorous vessels, and I zero in on him and the blonde a few times. He has her pinned to the wall with his body, and he’s devouring her mouth like he’s trying to eat her alive. Big hands firmly hold her face, controlling the angle of their kiss. She palms his ass through his jeans, thrusting her hips forward, and clutches his shirt, pulling him even closer.
Desire infiltrates my veins as I watch them with a strange mix of loathing, envy, and regret. As if I’ve called him, Zayn breaks their lip-lock, twisting his head in my direction. Dilated pupils drill into my face, and his lips are visibly swollen. Bile climbs up my throat, and I know I should look away, but I’m incapable of it.
Tossing a sly grin in my direction, Zayn squeezes her ass as he leads her out of the room, toward the hallway I assume leads to the bedrooms.
Noticing my gaze, Uma shakes her head, hauling me into the middle of the dance floor beside a group of guys who’ve been watching us for a few minutes. “He’s a jerk,” she shouts in my ear. “And he’s got trouble written all over him. Take my advice and steer clear of Zayn.” She thrusts me at a tall guy with brown hair and green eyes, and I almost stumble into his chest, catching myself at the last second.
“Hey.” His warm smile is pleasant, and he looks like a decent guy.
“Hey.” My hips move in time to the beat, and I force a flirty smile on my face, but my heart’s not in it as I dance with him. I try to forget about Zayn, because I know Uma is right, but he’s taken up residence in my head, and he won’t get the fuck out.
A pang of jealousy jumps up and bites me.
Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer.
Zayn certainly seems to know what he’s doing, and I can’t deny he’s hot.
So what if he’s an asshole? I don’t have to like him to fuck him.
Wouldn’t it be the ultimate fuck you to my ex to hook up with a guy I barely know and willingly give him something I denied Noah?
Except I don’t want my first time to be with some jerk who is treating this like it’s a game of “deflower the virgin.”
My thoughts help to refocus me, so when the guy I’m dancing with leans down to kiss me, I go with it. His hands wind around my waist as I grab his shoulders, angling my head so he can deepen the kiss. He’s not blowing my mind or rocking my world, but he’s a decent kisser, and at least I’m not thinking about the jerk anymore.
A loud crash emanates from the far side of the room, claiming the attention of almost everyone at the party. I pull away from the guy I’m kissing, casting a glance around. Everett’s mouth pulls into a grimace as he stares in the direction of the commotion. He nods at a guy beside him, and the guy takes off running. Someone lowers the music, and the crowd stops dancing, fixated on the scene unfolding before us.
Over on the other side of the room, I watch a tall guy with messy brown hair stumble over a broken lamp table, almost face-planting into the shattered glass on the floor. A guy withdirty-blond hair and multiple tattoos grabs the back of his friend’s shirt, pulling him upright. “Get lost, Jarvis.” The drunk guy shoves his friend off, his eyes scanning the room as Everett walks toward him.
“Little Becker. You determined to trash my place or what?” Everett gentles his tone in an unexpected move. If some drunk started messing up my house, I’m not sure I’d be so calm or understanding.
“Where’s my brother?” he slurs. “Where’s Zayn?”
“Interesting,” Uma murmurs, as I note the resemblance between the brothers. Both have the same color hair and eyes, and both are tall with broad shoulders. But Zayn is more ripped than his leaner, younger—I’m guessing—brother.
“Roman!” Zayn comes racing into the room, buttoning up his jeans.
Disgust churns in my gut as I take in his disheveled state.
“What the fuck did you do to him?” Zayn pushes his brother’s friend.
Jarvis glares at Zayn, folding muscular arms across his chest. “Nothing he didn’t want.”
Zayn lunges at him, punching him in the nose, before Everett pulls him back. Another guy similarly restrains Jarvis so it doesn’t escalate. “Stay away from him. I won’t fucking warn you again,” Zayn growls.
“Bro.” Roman lurches clumsily at his brother, and a gargled sound rips from his throat right before he pukes all over the place. Vomit lands on the floor and splashes the walls, Zayn’s shirt, and the petite blonde who happens to arrive at the wrong time. She shrieks, screeching as puke covers the front of her pretty red dress and coats the ends of her hair.
