Page 19 of Strong Side

But I don’t back away from the blonde in front of me.

I want to kick him off that ledge that he’s often teetering on. Pissed off, jealous Clay is my favorite.

Still at her neck and keeping full eye contact with him from across the room, I rub my nose up to her hair, inhaling as I go. She does smell good, I’ll give her that, but it’s not doing it for me. I want a certain scent and that happens to be whatever the fuck Clay wears.

I put my hand on the back of her neck, debating whether to kiss her, but before I can, I’m pushed away from dear ol’ Chloe. I fake gasp, grabbing mychest as if he hurt me.

“It’s my birthday, Clayton.” Putting on a show, I stick my lower lip out, trying to ignore the fact that the room is still spinning from the copious amounts of alcohol I’ve had. “You’re going to cock block your partner on his birthday? That’s an all-time low for you,Garotão.”

I see something cross his face, but it’s gone before my alcoholic brain can figure out what it was.

I lean into him, and he willingly holds me up. “Clayton?”

“Yeah, Rocky?”

“You’re so fucking hot in your Shania Twain crop top.”

1. No Heart - 21 Savage, Metro Boomin

13

Happy Birthday, Baby

Clayton

“Oh, I am, huh?” I clench my molars in irritation while simultaneously trying to fight the smile that’s trying to form from his drunk admission.

“Yeah, you are. I mean, you’re hot in pretty much anything, but this… " He fiddles with the hem of my new favorite shirt. “This is like, super hot.”

I slowly start stepping forward, backing Rocky up until he bumps into the wall in Jax’s living room. He doesn’t so much as flinch when his back hits the wall, his eyes gazing up at me in a euphoric alcohol-induced haze.

“Rockwell.”

“Yeah, Clay?”

The dominating, possessive beast inside of me, the one very few have gotten the chance to see, roars to life the moment my name leaves his lips. The same lips that were about to touch Chloé’s skin. I grip his jaw in my hand, forcing him to look up at me when I know all his eyes want to do is spin in circles. I want to make sure I’m about to make my point crystal fucking clear. “Don’t let me see you touch Chloé again.”

“Why? It’s not like the two of you are exclusive. I know how you are, Clay.” His voice is soft, barely audible over the roar of the music, but there’s an underlying note of apprehensiveness.

Leaning down, I brush my lips against the shell of his ear, my hand still tightly gripping his sharp jaw. His body shivers in my hold as he feels my breath skate across my skin. “Chloé isn’t the one I give a fuck about, Rockwell. She can touch whoever she wants.”

Slowly, I stand upright so I can stare back down at him. I watch as his eyes dance back and forth between mine. And for a moment, it’s as if he’s stone-cold sober. He swallows roughly, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I force myself not to bend down and run my tongue over it.

Then, as if the thought were plastered on a flashing marquee sign on my forehead, Rocky’s eyes flash with panic before he reaches up and gently wraps his handaround my wrist, prompting me to let his face go. We both drop our hands at our sides, but I don’t move another inch. “I-I need another drink.”

The corners of my mouth turn up in a coy smile. If I’ve learned anything about Rockwell Campos, it’s not to push him when faced with uncomfortable emotional situations. When he’s backed into a corner and faced with a truth he isn’t ready to deal with, he runs. And now is no exception. “Anything for the birthday boy.”

Despite my words, I still don’t move. If he wants out of this situation, he’s going to have to do it himself. Slowly, he pushes himself off of the wall, brushing the fronts of our bodies against one another. His breath hitches when he feels how turned on I am brushing against his stomach. My only response is a raise of my brows and a shrug of my shoulders.

He quickly sidesteps around me without another word. “Meet me on the dance floor later, partner!” I half yell, half laugh, as he bolts across the makeshift dance floor toward the kitchen where all the alcohol is.

If he wasn’t drunk already, he sure as shit is about to be.

It’s been two hours since ourconversation,and Rocky is officially on a different planet. My cheeks literally hurt from smiling as I watch him from my spot on the couch next to Jax.

It’s been a little over six weeks since his surgery, and he’s healing faster and better than any of us expected.

Like freakishly well, actually.

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