THERE IS a real chance I could spontaneously burst into flames at any moment.
Nate’s voice is barely above a whisper as he suggests testing his theory, but I feel every syllable all over my skin as goose bumps spread down my neck and across my chest. I have been betrayed by my body from the second he put his hands on both sides of my head and leaned in.
He’s barely touched me and yet I’m ready to melt into a puddle at his feet.
I don’t know whether it’s the proximity, the sheer adrenaline, or the tequila, but every rational thought disappears, and I crush my mouth against his.
He wastes no time sinking his hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, gripping tightly. His free hand slips around my body and palms my ass, making me moan into his mouth.
Nate is everywhere at once; all I can do is hold onto him and take it, and when his mouth travels down my neck, sucking and nipping, I’m practically panting.
I didn’t think this would happen when I followed him up here, I swear. He just looks so good in his tux and watching him nervously check the party is going well all night has been sort of endearing. And he’s hot as fuck, have I said that before? All dark hair, dark eyes, and muscles upon muscles, upon muscles.
He sinks to his knees in front of me, tugging at his bow tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. With messy hair from where I’ve held onto it and flushed cheeks, he looks up at me. His hands run from my ankle to my knee, then back down again, and yep, still close to melting territory. “You sure?”
“Do you have a pen and paper for me to draw you a map?”
I’m making jokes. Why am I making jokes? Why do I find how unimpressed with me he looks right now so funny? And hot?
“I don’t joke about consent, Anastasia,” he says softly, leaning forward to kiss the inside of my knee.
“I’m sure.” I don’t know why I’m sure. I’m sure I shouldn’t be sure. I shouldn’t like how he looks hooking my leg over his shoulder. I’m definitely sure I shouldn’t be enjoying his tongue running up the inside of my thigh.
He pulls the material of the dress to the side, and when I put on this dress earlier, this is not how I saw the evening turning out. I hear a groan of approval when his mouth gets closer to the apex of my thighs, and he realizes I’m not wearing any panties.
The anticipation is killing me. I know he’s doing it on purpose, getting closer and closer, but not doing anything meaningful.
I’m about to open my mouth to tell him to hurry up when his tongue runs between my folds, circling my clit slowly. A loud, desperate moan echoes around the room. I don’t even realize the noise came from me until I feel his shoulders move because the jackass laughs.
Fingers tickle up the back of my thighs until they can’t go any farther. His huge hands sink into my ass, squeezing at the same time he sucks my clit into his mouth in a way that makes me feel like I’m floating.
I’m a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. I don’t even need to be looking at his face to realize how arrogant he is right now, not that I could—it’s buried pretty deep between my thighs.
Sinking my hands into his hair for something to hold on to, a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat and the butterflies in my stomach freaking multiply.
I want to say something smart, sass him in some way. Not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s turned me into a whimpering mess in a matter of minutes. Back arching away from the door, eyes rolling to the back of my head, hair pulling mess.
One of his hands moves from my ass cheeks, and when I look down, a pair of brown eyes are staring back at me. They stay burning into me, watching me closely as two of his fingers slide into me, finding my G-spot in 2.5 seconds.
It’s game over.
His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of me, perfectly coordinated with his tongue, and if he wasn’t holding up my entire body with his mouth, I’d have toppled over by now.
The feeling keeps building, hands tug harder at his hair as I cry out, stiletto heel digging into the hard muscles of his back as I desperately try to move my hips to ride his fingers. “Nathan…” I whimper. I’m wound so impossibly tight I can’t breathe. “Nathan, I’m going to co—”
I don’t even get the words out as every part of me spasms and I scream, everything tingling and throbbing as I tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and heat flooding my entire body.
Removing his fingers and mouth, he leans back so he can look up at me properly, wearing the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, not once breaking eye contact.
Oh fuck.
IT’S BEEN days since the party and every day I learn something new about myself.
A disaster will do that to a person.
The first thing I learned was I’m good at running in heels; I found that one out when I sprinted from Nate’s room. I’ve learned I’m not good at keeping a low profile, even when I’m actively trying to avoid someone. I’ve also learned I’d be a terrible criminal; I’d end up getting caught. I’m too jumpy and paranoid, which is why my instinct is to immediately panic when I wake up to the sound of heavy banging on my bedroom door.
Ryan’s arm tightens around my waist, head burrowing deeper into my neck, his deep groan of annoyance vibrating against my skin. “Make it stop.”
There is only one person in this house who is confident enough to slam their fist against someone else’s door this early in the morning.
“What do you want, Sabrina?”
“Are you two fucking or can I come in?”
Ryan and I didn’t even hook up last night, we watched a movie and fell asleep. We agreed the benefits aspect of our friendship was over now that he’s looking to ask Olivia to be exclusive with him. I don’t feel sad about it because I always knew it’d come to an end. I’m happy I managed to gain a best friend out of what’s been an amazing situation.
Ryan untangles our bodies and rolls onto his back with a huff. “If we were fucking, you just killed the mood.”
“Okay, I’m coming in! Put your dick away, Rothwell.”
Carrying two boxes on her hip, Sabrina bursts through the door and throws herself onto the bed. She shields her eyes dramatically when she gets a look at Ryan’s exposed chest.
He looks at me in disbelief, tugging the duvet up to cover himself. Hooking up or not, I’d have a picture of Ryan’s body as my bedroom wallpaper if I could. Sabrina is ridiculous.
“How is my favorite not-couple this morning?” she asks cheerfully, throwing one of the boxes at me. “We have presents!”
Ryan yawns, ensuring to keep his body covered as he stretches. “Better if you’d woken me up with m’shewsha instead of a headache.”
Brin making breakfast is Ryan’s favorite thing about staying over. Charming, isn’t it?
Sabrina tuts. “Nobody likes a drama queen, Rothwell.”
“Who are the presents from?” I ask, examining my surname on the box in big letters.
“Nate.” She taps away on her phone, the signature video call sound starting. “We have to open them on a video call.”
Video call? “Brin, wai—”
“Good morning,” Robbie says. “You’re beautiful in the morning.”
“She’s got an audience,” I grumble before the phone sex starts.
“So have I,” he says back. Sabrina turns around so her back is to me and Ryan, she holds her phone up and manages to get the three of us in the shot.
Robbie does the same thing, showing he has Nate and JJ on either side of him, eating what looks like cereal. JJ looks up from his bowl to the camera and chokes. Nathan looks up, too, his expression is blank. Robbie ignores him and talks louder over the noise. “Open your presents now.”
“Here, Rothwell,” Brin says, turning back around and leaning to hand Ryan the phone. “Make yourself useful and be the cameraman.”
Finally, after what feels like hours since Brin crashed her way in, I rip the box open. I feel weird opening what is supposed to be a gift from Nathan while sitting in bed with Ryan. I have no reason to feel weird, but I do.
Oh wait, it might be because I’ve been avoiding Nate since he gave me the best head of my life five days ago, and the first time he sees me afterward, I’m in bed with someone else. Maybe that’s it.
Dipping my hands into the box, I pull out its contents—a Titans hockey jersey.
Brin squeals excitedly, holding up her matching one. Allali is printed on the back and when I flip mine over, Allen is staring back at me in big white letters. “Thanks, Nate!”
“I was told this is all it takes to make you two listen to me. Welcome to the team.”
The poor rookie on door duty at Robbie’s party obviously reported Sabrina’s message.
“Put them on,” Ryan says from behind the camera. “I can’t believe I’m in bed with two hockey stars, I feel so lucky.”
“Could have made it three if you’d given me the heads-up,” JJ says with a snort.
“Shut up, dipshit, that’s my girl you’re talking about.”
Brin winks at me right before pulling the jersey over her head. We have both read enough romance novels and watched enough bad romance movies to know we love a she’s mine type of man. “I love it.”
“We gotta go to practice. I’ll speak to you later, yeah?”
“Sure, bye.”
“Bye, guys,” Ryan and I add.
Just before Ryan disconnects the call, we hear Henry. “Is that Anastasia? I thought she was avoiding you, Nathan.”
I manage to not react to Henry’s words, other than one long, loud internal scream, but it doesn’t stop two pairs of eyes burning into me. It was funny when Sabrina and Ryan both started intensely staring at me, but now, minutes later, it’s a little sinister.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Brin says in her most serious voice.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas is supposed to be a real thing. I know technically it was a Vegas party in Maple Hills, but the rules should still apply. I should be allowed to be a little irresponsible and a little slutty, and not have to share with my friends. Unfortunately for me, the secret keepers of Vegas haven’t met Sabrina. “Tell us or I’m calling him back to ask.”
I sink into the bed, pulling the duvet up over my head so I don’t have to look at anyone.
“Hewentdownonmeatrobbie’sbirthdaypartyandIranoff.”
“Huh?” they both say in unison.
I huff and cling on as Ryan tries to tug the duvet back down. He’s stronger than me, so I eventually give up. “He went down on me at Robbie’s birthday party, blah blah blah.” I ignore their gasps, Sabrina’s genuine and Ryan’s pretend one to play along with her dramatics. “It was an accident, a moment of weakness, and I’ve been avoiding him.”
“You are not going to blah blah blah me. It’s been almost a week!” she screeches, arms flailing around dramatically. She turns her attention to Ryan. “Did you know about this?”
“No, I was on a date with Liv on Saturday, so I couldn’t make the party,” he says, completely missing the way her face twists when he mentions Olivia. “I’m interested to know how people accidentally have oral sex though, Stas. Share with the group.”
“You’re a dick.” I groan, hitting him in the chest with a pillow. “I was using his bathroom. He was trying to get me to admit I wanted to be friends, asked if he needed to get on his knees and beg.”
“Classic,” Brin says, rolling her eyes.
“Said I was only pretending to hate him.”
“Yeah, this sounds like the start of any good hookup,” she says sarcastically, scrunching her nose up with annoyance. “Get to the good bit.”
“Well, when he asked if he needed to get on his knees, I was honest. I said the only time I want to see a man on his knees is if his head is between my legs.”
Sabrina can’t breathe, she’s laughing so hard, and Ryan is nearly as bad. I’m surprised Aaron hasn’t shown up because that would be perfect.
“You guys are annoying,” I mutter, hitting them both again with a pillow. “Anyway, he took it as an invitation. Said ask me nicely, and was all ‘I don’t joke about consent, Anastasia,’ super sexy and brooding and yeah, practically ruined my vocal cords screaming.”
“Took it as an invitation?” Ryan repeats back, jaw slack. “Stas, you practically told him you wanted to ride his face.”
“I did not!” I definitely did not. I was simply making a point that I don’t see anything good in a man begging at my feet. I’m not sure how it became so misconstrued in conversation.
If anything, I blame Ryan for this situation. If he had been there when Brin disappeared off with Robbie, I’d have had someone to make sure I didn’t do reckless things with reckless, hot hockey players.
“Anastasia,” he takes my face between his hands and turns my head so I’m only looking at him, not Sabrina, who is wiping away tears. “If a woman is telling me the only time she wants me on my knees is when my face is in between her legs, respectfully, I’m making a move. I’d have kissed you too.”
“Well, technically,” I mumble, shaking my face free, “if you want to get into the specifics, I kissed him.”
“You little slut,” Sabrina says in delight. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell us!” Her eyes flick to Ryan, nose scrunching again. “Well, me. You two are weird. I don’t know what you share, but I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me!”
“It’s not happening again, Brin, so calm down.”
Ryan groans beside me and drags his hand down his face. “Stas, you know I love you, but you’ve got to stop being so fucking stubborn. Hawkins is a good guy, fuck him, don’t fuck him, but since when do you avoid people you hook up with?”
“You should definitely fuck him,” Brin says, far more enthusiastically than I’d like.
“I agree. You probably should at least once, Stas. For science.”
The performing arts major and the English literature major, the two least STEM people I know, both look at me, synchronized nodding and talking. “For science.”
