“Really? Could have fooled me.”
Not bothering to respond, he lifts the bottle to his lips before downing the contents.
All right then...
When Sasha glances at me across the sea of people that separates us, our gazes lock and hold. She smiles and I can’t help but return the easy expression.
“Everybody is getting wifed up around here,” Crosby mutters. “It’s fucking annoying.”
“Actually, it’s pretty great. Maybe you should give it a try some time.”
He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll stick with the easy pussy.”
I clap him on the back before taking off. “Your loss.”
“Hardly.”
Not bothering to argue, I shake my head and blaze a path toward Sasha. Ten minutes was more than enough time without her. The moment I slip my arms around her body, everything once again feels right in the world.
I nuzzle her neck. “Tell me we don’t have to stay long.”
“We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Excellent.” That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. “Then let’s get the hell out of here.”
A gurgle of laughter escapes from her. “Really? This is your house. Your party. Aren’t you responsible?”
“Nope.” I glance around the ensuing chaos. “I have four roommates who can keep it under control.” Or not.
“Want to go to my place?”
I hunker down just a bit in order to wrap one arm around the back of her knees and the other around her upper body before hoisting her against me. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Sasha slips her arms around my neck as we head for the door.
There’s only one place I want to be—and it’s not here, partying with this bunch of assholes.
11
Sasha
Easton’s lips are fused to mine as we crash through the apartment door and into the entryway. His hands are everywhere, touching and learning every part of me. Stroking over my body in ways I only imagined.
“I want you so bad, baby,” he growls.
Barely can I catch my breath before his mouth crashes onto mine again. And then I’m lost on a sea of sensory overload. The way he kicks the door shut with his foot sends my belly into free fall. I’ve never seen Easton like this. So forceful and dominant. I love every bit of it.
He maneuvers us through the dining area and into the hallway until we find ourselves in my room.
His fingers drift to the hem of my shirt where they pause. He breaks away just enough to say, “As much as I want to be inside you, if you’re not ready, then we’ll wait. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
The thick length of his erection presses insistently against my belly.
“No, I’m ready. I want you. I want this.” I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.
“Are you sure?” Before I can answer, he says, “Because I want you to be certain. No regrets.”
“There won’t be. I’m ready.”
With that, I close the distance between us and press my lips against his. Before he can sink into the kiss, I pull away, retreating a step. Then another until his hands drop back to their sides. Confusion mingles with desire as he waits for my next move.
This time, it’s my fingers that bite into the fabric of my shirt before lifting it over my head. It stays clutched in my hand for a heartbeat before I allow it to drop to the carpet. Then I reach around and unhook the clasp of my bra. As soon as it springs apart, the straps slide down my shoulders and arms, baring my breasts. My jeans get pushed down my thighs and kicked away until I’m standing before him in nothing more than my panties. His hot gaze licks over every inch of me, igniting a firestorm of need inside my core. I suck in a breath before hooking my thumbs beneath the thin waistband and rolling it down my hips until the lacy scrap of material is pooled around my ankles.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans.
It only takes two steps to swallow up the distance. My palms settle against his T-shirt-clad chest before drifting lower, gathering up the material and tugging it over his head until he’s as bare-chested as I am.
My gaze follows the path of my hands trailing over sculpted muscle before flicking up to meet his. “I’ve always thought that you had an amazing body.” It’s a relief to finally tell him how I feel. To get it all out in the open. No more secrets.
My fingers glide to the button of his jeans, flicking it open and dragging down the zipper. And then my hand is delving inside his boxers to stroke over his thick erection. He groans when I tighten around him, pulling the hard length from the cotton fabric. As my thumb circles over the bulbous head, a bead of moisture gathers at the tip. I continue rubbing until more wells up before lifting the digit to my mouth and drawing it inside.