“That is wonderful news, Eric. I need to go—my latest analysis has completed. I love you, Son.”
And just like that, the line goes dead. The silence in the car is deafening.
CHAPTER 23
Jordan
“It’s my birthday, bitch!”
This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. Jacks is packed to the rafters. My friends and I have a private area raised slightly off the dance floor, facing the stage. The exceptionally talented Ryan Cliffer is playing a set of all my favorite songs, and I have the hottest guy in the room nibbling on my neck.
“Did I already tell you how much I love my boots?” I ask Eric as I twirl my foot in the air to show off my crocodile leather Louboutins. I am not ashamed to say that I almost shattered my knee caps dropping down to the hardwood floor in my apartment to show him my gratitude. He went above and beyond all expectations.
“You may have mentioned it once or twice.” Eric chuckles against my jaw. I can smell tequila on his breath from the multiple rounds of shots he’s downed with Carter. I don’t think I was prepared for this. Not only is Drunk Eric very tactile in this state, he has also unbuttoned his shirt to his chest and writhed around on the dance floor at every opportunity.
I’m marvelling at the way he’s letting loose and having fun with my friends—talking with them, taking shots with them, buying rounds left, right and center. I can tell everybody loves him.
“Your love is hanging out. Might wanna tuck it back in,” Pete whispers to me with a giggle. I snap my eyes away from Eric, who has moved over to chat with Nyx and Sienna. These two incredible ladies met last year, thanks to Roman. Sienna was his parole officer and Nyx an artist at Savage Ink. It was love at first sight for them.
“Shut up! It is not,” I huff, flattening down the lapels of my black blazer jumpsuit. Thank God this thing is designed to be worn without a shirt, it’s hot as balls in here and my chest being bare is the only thing keeping me cool.
“Oh, yes it is. Jordan and Eric sitting in a tree…”
The funny thing is, Pete hasn’t even been drinking. This is just his personality. No matter how hard I try not to smile, I can't help it.
“Oh, we should give everybody one of those ship names,” he says. “Like Jennifer and Ben:Bennifer.” Clapping his hands and bouncing in his seat, he points at Drew. “Drew and Ryan? Ummm…Dryan. Wow, that’s good.” He swings around to me. “Jordan and Eric…Joric. That's agreatone!”
“Uh… you’re too late there, Pete,” I interject. “Derek already thought that one up for us ages ago.”
“Well, I thought of itnow, and that’s all that counts. Anyway, let’s do me. Pete and Gavin…Peevin?P… Pavin?” His head tilts to the side as he considers this for a second, then his face falls into a childish pout. “Dammit! That sucks! This issounfair!”
He literally stomps his foot, causing everyone to burst into laughter. This whole thing was his idea, and the facthe'sthe one getting mad has me nearly peeing in my Givenchy jumpsuit.
“It’s okay, Pete,” Carter chimes in, placing a placating hand on his shoulder. “Roman and I areComan. Or even worse:Rarter.” He grins and looks up at his husband, who is repeating the names to himself.
“Kinda into Rarter if I’m gonna be honest,” Roman admits, and the whole table bursts out laughing again. I don’t think it will ever not be amazing seeing such a big scary-looking dude be so sweet and silly.
“Okay. Come on, Joric, more shots for the birthday boy!” Ryan announces as he arrives at the table, stopping only to drop a kiss on Drew’s cheek before setting down a tray of tequila shots. I look over at Eric, who grabs a glass and clinks it with Sienna first, then turns to wait for me to lift a shot.
“Happy birthday, Lashes.” Eric’s beaming smile spreads across his flushed face.
I really, really like drunk Eric. Without thinking, I lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss that has my friends whistling and hollering. “Dance with me, handsome?” I ask against his lips, before throwing back the shot and standing up with my hand outstretched.
Eric doesn’t hesitate for a second. He interlocks his fingers with mine, allowing me to tug him past our friends and down the few short steps to the dance floor.
With the heavy bass vibrating through my body, I press myself against Eric, letting my hands slide up over his broad chest—fully exposed with all those tattoos on display. My mouth is watering and my dick is straining against its confines as we grind together in a world of our own. The crowds and the music seem to disappear as Eric spins me around, pulling my back flush against his front. I can feel his cock pressing into my lumbar region as he leans down, nuzzling my neck.
“You know, this having a boyfriend thing isn’t too bad,” he whispers against my skin, and I feel a shiver roll down my spine.
I’m waiting for the cringe to hit me. I’m fully expecting that urge to push him away and deny what we are, but you know what? Itnever comes. In fact, my body melts even further back into him.
“I hope you are wearing the pretty panties I got for you under this thing.” Eric pushes his hand beneath my open blazer and brushes his fingertips over my nipples, drawing a sustained moan from deep within my chest.
I was definitely spoiled in the gift department. Not only did Eric surprise me with the Louboutins, he also ordered me a faux crocodile leather jock with red material on the inside to match my red-bottomed boots. I am indeed wearing that jock. So much of me wants to tell him to find this out for himself, but if he touches my dick right now I’m likely to ruin my pretty panties. “You will just have to wait until we get home, Dimples.”
Home. Fuck, I actually saidhome.I like the idea of sharing a home with Eric. In the future, not right now, but this is yet another example of how much my mind has changed. This is even more proof positive of how much Eric Smith has wormed his way into my heart.
Pete pulls me away from him to dance, and I can't help smirking. I never thought I would be grateful to my bestie for doing the whole cock block thing, but right now I need to put a little space between Eric and me. I’m far too heated and far too close to the edge. Plus, Eric's eyes have become hooded, and he's clearly just moments away from dragging me to one of the back rooms we have defiled before. Unfortunately for him and his very dirty mind, my best friend is obsessed with Bruno Mars’s new song and apparently we must dance. Eric will be just fine for now; a little edging never hurt anybody.
