STUFFED (The Slate Brothers 2)

“— And this is Astrid,” I heard Arianna say. I spin around, realizing I’ve totally zoned out, and see that there’s a guy in our little circle now. Not just a guy, but a football player. There’s no way he could be anything but, given his size and the hardened muscles on his arms.

“Astrid, nice to meet you. I’m Luca,” he says, nodding at me politely, but with clear disinterest— he’s over here because of Arianna. There’s something about the expression on his face that pricks at my memory, and suddenly, I realize he’s one of the guys whose cocks I saw earlier in the day. I focus on breathing to keep embarrassment from registering on my face even though the guy— Luca— obviously doesn’t remember me. Are all the football players so brazen? I wonder if I’d have seen Carson’s cock, if I’d been a few moments earlier—

Whoa, no. Nope, nope, stop right there. You’re in enough trouble with Carson Slate without adding those sorts of thoughts to the mix.

Arianna and Luca eventually slide away to talk to some of Luca’s teammates, and it isn’t long before Jess starts up a conversation with a group of girls she knows from somewhere or another. I pretend to study my drink, then to text someone, and even dare to order a second cocktail (which I vow to nurse more slowly).

And I’ve only just received my new drink when he arrives.

I’m not sure how, exactly, I know that Carson Slate has entered the room. It’s almost like he has his own gravitational pull that tugs my eyes, my breath, my mind his way— that must be how I’m so certain when I turn toward the door that he’ll be standing in the frame.

He’s looking over the room with a dark mixture of pride and arrogance, wearing a neat-fitting collared shirt and jeans. Everyone knows him, of course, and there are waves and congratulatory claps on his broad shoulders as he moves through the crowd. A handful of girls swiftly bound toward him, hugging him a little too long for it to be strictly friendly, but he manages to shake them off with practiced skill.

For the second time today, I’m struck by how uncannily attractive he is. There’s something so stupidly sexy about his size and strength and the clean lines of his jawbone. I’m staring, but I know no one will notice— everyone is staring at him.

I take a long sip of my drink and look around for my suite mates. I can’t just approach Carson Slate without backup, especially not after this afternoon’s fiasco. Unfortunately, Jess has vanished, and Arianna and Luca are now making out in plain view. I scowl— Arianna is a little boy crazy, but lip locking a near stranger is still out of character for her, and it’s pretty gross to watch.

“You,” a voice says curtly, and I whirl around. I’m staring at a broad chest that, even through a layer of fabric, is familiar. My eyes climb it until I’m looking Carson Slate in the eye.

3

“Me,” I answer, as my throat tightens and my heart begins hammering in my ears. I still have to yell to be heard over the music, which I’m glad for— it means it’s harder for him to hear the tremble in my voice. The spicy scent of Carson’s cologne has overpowered the scent of perfume and alcohol, and I inhale deeply, wanting to drink it in.

“Are you following me?” Carson asks, voice testy. The crowd that had been surrounding him is still there, but they’ve drifted back, either giving us privacy or giving Carson space to be angry. I wish I knew which.

“No,” I lie. I think. I mean, is it following if I got here before him?

“You just suddenly, out of nowhere, decide to come to Reign, the day you break press pass rules and try to get an interview with me,” Carson says, folding his arms. “I wasn’t going to talk to your editor, you know. It seemed like an honest mistake earlier today. But this is some bullshit.”

“Look, I’m just here hanging out with friends. See? That’s one of my suite mates,” I say, pointing to Arianna.

Carson follows my finger and grimaces. “It doesn’t look like you’re doing much hanging out with her.”

“Well, we were. Until all that happened,” I say, shaking my head.

“Right. Sure,” he says with a sigh, then rolls his eyes and walks away. I should let him go— I mean, he understandably doesn’t want to talk to me. Except now I’ve got Devin’s voice in my ear, the promise of a state-wide story, of a headline, and…ugh. I can’t let Carson Slate and my big story get away this easily. Besides, I don’t like the idea of Carson hating me for no reason. He doesn’t even know me. I step forward and catch his sleeve.