Knockout (Tapped Out 4)

“Yeah, well, fancy alcohol doesn’t get you any drunker than cheap shit.”

I tipped some more into my own glass. “Twenty-seven percent alcohol, remember? So I beg to differ.”

“Whatever. I have work tomorrow and this isn’t what I was expecting. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not in a fucking party mood.”

I kicked back on the couch opposite him and slowly spread my legs. The move hadn’t been intentional, but I didn’t miss the way he checked out my package before turning his glare back on Lily.

The bastard was probably harder than rock right now.

“So go. I’m perfectly capable of driving Lily home myself. Or she can spend the night.” I licked up a drop of beer that had splashed on my thumb. His gaze tracked the movement. “In my bed or the guest room. Her choice.”

Four

I forgot how to breathe.

He didn’t mean what it sounded like. I was almost sure.

But if he did…

I swayed against the arm of the couch across from him, putting out a hand to hold back Emerson when he would’ve stepped forward to throw down his cape. I wasn’t looking for chivalry tonight.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to go too far to find something else.

“Hold it right there.” I held out my hand and Emerson stopped in his tracks. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You almost fell over.”

“Yeah, I did. You know why?” I pushed my hair out of my face. I was getting hotter and hotter by the minute, and I didn’t think it was all to do with the alcohol. “I never thought I’d get a chance at something I’ve wanted for a long time, and I guess it’s fucking with my head a little.”

Emerson crossed his arms again, one of his most common stances lately. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark blue and narrowed. I didn’t like making him worry, but sometimes I had to push back against his and my father’s iron control or it threatened to strangle me.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

I debated what to do next for about twenty seconds. Because the truth was, I wanted a couple of things with equal intensity.

Emerson.

JC.

Emerson and JC together, which scandalized the hell out of me even in my most secret fantasies, but there it was.

I took another bolstering gulp of my beer and set down my glass. Then I crossed to the couch where JC was sprawled and stared down at him, nerves and anticipation and excitement firing in my blood. Even if he’d meant I could sleep in his bed like a buddy, I didn’t care. Rejection would sting, but not knowing would hurt way more. I was going for it.

For once, I was fucking going for it.

Bracing a knee beside him on the cushion, I reached out to touch his hair. Soft and shaggy, it fell through my fingers like a mixture of silk and straw. Rough and silky both. Would his scruff feel like that too? Against my chin, my breasts.

Between my legs.

He didn’t move a muscle, just let me explore from his hair to his forehead to the little wrinkle above his nose. His was perfectly straight, unlike Em’s. I traced it with a fingertip and followed it down to his lips. So full and unsmiling, in spite of the warmth and invitation in his golden-brown eyes.

My thumb grazed his lower lip and he let out a ragged exhale. He shifted slightly on the couch, spreading his legs that much more, almost daring me to glance down to where his cock was straining against his jeans.

Just like that, my nerve faltered. This wasn’t a naïve church boy I was fumbling around with. This was a real, experienced man, one of my best friends. The other stood a few feet away, probably thinking I was on the verge of going straight-up sex maniac on him.

He might be right.

“Don’t stop now,” JC murmured, giving me all the permission I could ever need.