He placed his hands on my waist and tilted his head up to look at me.
“What?” I huffed, irritated. “Why are you stopping?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
I snorted and nipped at his neck, pinching his skin between my teeth until he hissed a breath of pain. Good. It was supposed to hurt.
“We’re not doing anything until you’re sober,” Pretty Boy objected.
I frowned, bristling at his rejection.
“Well, we’re not fooling around unless I’m drunk enough to forget what we’re doing in the first place.”
He shook his head. Even in the dark room, barely illuminated by the strip of light from under the door, I could see thedisapproving tilt of Pretty Boy’s head and the stern look in his eyes.
“Not the right answer, Lila.”
I pushed away from him with a noise of disgust, swaying to my feet with a wobble.
“Just admit that you can’t get it up. I should have guessed you’d be all talk and no action.”
“Lila,” Pretty Boy gritted out with a sigh of frustration. “You know that’s not true. You were dry humping me a second ago.”
I adjusted my bra with a huff and yanked my tank top down.
“Oh, was I supposed to be impressed by that little toothpick in your pants? Huh, I barely felt a thing. Since you aren’t willing to finish what you started, I guess I’ll find someone who will.”
Pretty Boy grumbled. Before he could stand up, I pulled the door open and marched out.
“Lila—for fuck’s sake, wait a minute—”
I kept moving without looking back. Pretty Boy swore under his breath, adjusting his cock in his pants in an attempt to hide his hard-on. Which was a fruitless endeavor.
“Bruiser,” I called, beckoning to get his attention when I entered the main room. I steadied myself by gripping the back of a chair. “Drive me home, would you? I’m a little tipsy.”
Bruiser glanced in my direction, his gaze sweeping over me with a quick assessing look. There was a good reason the Reckless Order had voted him to be their Enforcer. He was built like a tank, with a barrel chest, thick arms, and heavy with muscle.
But he was always a gentle giant with me. Grumpy, but gentle.
And the best part: he wasn’t Pretty Boy.
Bruiser rose from his chair, thumping Trooper on the shoulder.
“We’ll finish up another time, yeah?”
“I look forward to kicking your ass, brother.”
Bruiser scoffed and gave Trooper a friendly shove. Then he crossed the clubhouse to my side, hooking an arm around my waist.
“You’re more than a little tipsy, princess,” he said. “From what I can see, it’s a miracle you haven’t blacked out yet.”
I lifted my chin with defiance.
“I can drink you boys under the table any day, easy peasy.”
I wanted to sound confident and strong. Instead, my words slurred together, barely coherent. Proving his point.
Behind me, Pretty Boy emerged from the hallway. I waved him off.
