As I round the corner to the staircase, I glance at the small crowd of men below me, drinking and laughing. Henry and an older gentleman are smoking cigars and appear to be in a serious conversation while Jesse and Luke are almost in tears, chatting with the other two men.
Liquid warmth pools in my stomach when I spot Baylor standing directly in the middle of the living room by himself, holding a half-empty glass in one hand while his other casually rests in his pocket. He looks bored and unimpressed, per usual, but also effortlessly sexy in his perfect white shirt and black trousers.
As if he feels me there, his eyes rise and lock on to mine, nearly knocking the wind out of my lungs. I quickly look away to focus on the stairs so I don’t trip, but his gaze has a weight to it, and I can feel it with every move I make, every step I get closer to him.
When I step off the landing, he’s already there, blocking my path.
The corner of my mouth pulls up when I notice that the crisp white shirt stretching over his hard chest is the same one I wore to bed my first night here.
I reach up to touch the Armani logo on his collar when he snatches my wrist out of the air. My eyes widen as they shoot to him.
“You look fucking gorgeous. Now, for the love of God, go upstairs and change,” he says, but it sounds more like an order.
I look down at my dress and back up at his pained expression. “Hmm, no.”
“Please,” he says through clenched teeth.
I yank my wrist out of his grasp and blink up at him. “And what would you propose I wear instead?”
“Anything else. I don’t care.” He shakes his head firmly.
“Well, I left my burlap sack at home, and Henry told me to wear something nice. This is the only dress I packed, other than that sweater dress.” I smile, knowing he remembers the one.
His nostrils flare. “Aspen, you don’t know these guys. I can’t rearrange their faces if they look at you the wrong way. They work with Henry’s father.”
I slide my hands up the seam of his shirt and undo the top button, feeling more powerful with every pleading word he breathes.
“I’m asking you one more time to please change.” He’s not demanding me anymore; he’s begging.
With heels on, I’m closer to his face, but I still have to rise up onto my tiptoes to reach his ear. “Make me,” I whisper, grazing my lips along his earlobe.
I start to push past him, but he catches me by the throat and pulls me back in front of him. His hold on me is soft yet firm enough to elicit a moan from me.
“You know I can.”
My legs are unsteady beneath me as my whole body pulses. His dominance and protectiveness complement his anger in the best way, making my thighs ache.
“Aspen?” Jesse utters my name from the other side of Baylor.
Baylor drops his hand and reluctantly steps aside.
Jesse looks between the two of us, making sure I’m okay, and then pins Baylor with a death glare. “You’ve resorted to putting your hands on her? Are you insane?”
Baylor smirks down at me and whispers, “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”
I swallow hard, unsure if I want to pummel him or kiss him.
Kiss him? No, Aspen. Bad Aspen.
Jesse’s frown deepens as he takes a step toward Baylor. “What’d he fucking say to you?”
I’ve never seen him worked up like this. He’s usually so calm and happy. This version of Jesse is kind of scary.
“It’s fine, Jesse.” I sigh, relieved that he doesn’t seem to know anything about what happened last night. “Baylor and I just had a … disagreement.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He still looks like he’s ready to murder his friend when he puts an arm over my shoulders and leads me into the dining room. “You look nice, by the way,” he says after a beat.
“That’s a generous adjective, coming from you.” I grin. “Thank you.”
