Page 124 of Don't Say You're Sorry

I glare, then sigh. “Who told you?”

“You did.” He swirls his finger in front of me. “With your face. I’ve known about it since you told me you were working tonight.”

Rookie mistake. He knows I wouldn’t work on his birthday.

“Someday, I’m gonna surprise you so hard, it’s gonna knock your bloody socks off,” I vow.

He chuckles. “Can’t wait.”

“At least pretend to shit yourself,” I grumble as I open the door.

“Shit myself? My acting skills are mediocre at best.”

“Give me the best you’ve got, baby.”

He jokingly gives his shoulders a little roll as I walk him down the hallway.

Still holding his hand, I lead him into the main part of the club. It’s closed tonight for a private party, so everything’s dark and eerily quiet. We round the bar in complete silence—until the neon lights flick on and music blasts through the speakers.

A hundred people shout, “Happy birthday!” as Taylor Swift’s “22” kicks in. Everyone takes a shot of tequila—except Nate and Xavi, who clink water shots like the chaos goblins they are.

I glance up to find Carter in the booth with the DJ, raising his shot glass at Easton before tipping it back. I shake my head. I hate that I’m starting to like the idiot. It helps that fucking with my older brother is his favorite game. I can’t wait to see how that plays out.

Leaning over the bar, Micah hands me a bottle of tequila along with some salt and limes. Easton doesn’t stop me as I feed him the salt with my finger. I tip his head back and pour a shot’s worth of tequila into his mouth. He swallows, and I place a lime between his lips. He makes a face, and I do my own shot before touching my forehead to his. “Happy birthday, sunshine.”

His blue eyes shine beneath the strobe lights as he smiles at me.

As requested, Easton pretends he didn’t know about his party as his best friends surround him, each giving him a hug in turn.

I ask Micah for two Wray of Sunshine cocktails, passing one to Easton as the rest of his teammates line up to greet him. Giving him space, I lean on the bar next to Xavi and look around the club at the decorations covering the walls. Nate, Xavi, Carter, Frankie, and Axel got here a couple hours early to set everything up while I kept Easton busy at home. There are black and blue balloons everywhere, two basketball hoops on either side of the dance floor—Mick said if we break anything, it’s coming out of my paycheck—two huge, blue light-up 2s in the corner, and a drop-down screen on the wall playing a slideshow of images ofEaston and his friends and family. I’m in a lot of them, some from when we were in high school, and some more recent. I didn’t know they were planning this.

“It was Axel’s idea. He gave us the photos of you from before.”

I turn my head to look at Xavi. He tips his chin, and I follow his gaze to where Axel stands on the other side of the room, manning the long table of food.

Being the food snob he is, he insisted I let him take care of it rather than hire a caterer. I didn’t put up as much of a fight as I should have. He knows all of Easton’s favorites, and Easton loves his cooking, even if he’d never admit it.

As if he can sense I’m watching him, Axel meets my eyes briefly before he drops them.

I look away, finding Easton peeking at me over his shoulder, checking I haven’t gone anywhere. I want to go to him, but I stay put, giving him time to talk to his friends.

My ass clenches around the plug in my ass at the thought of what he’s going to do to me once I get him all to myself again later. He doesn’t know I’m wearing it. I wanted to give him the remote for tonight, but it wasn’t in my drawer when I went to grab it before we left.

Just as I think it, the corner of Easton’s mouth lifts as he slides his hand into the pocket of his jeans. The fucking toy in my ass starts vibrating, and I curse him. Xavi hits me with a questioning look. Easton, the smug bastard, can’t help but laugh at my expression before he lifts his drink to hide it.

He finishes his conversation with Bryson West, Megan’s brother and one of the guys on the team, and then walks over to me, setting his drink on the bar behind me and wrapping his arms around my neck.

“Wanna dance?” he asks.

He’s already pulling me onto the dance floor as I nod, my hands sliding around his waist. “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay fills the club, and he sways us to the beat. In front of all his friends, I hold him tight, my fingers digging into his back through his T-shirt. The plug is working its magic on my prostate, and I shiver, touching my forehead to his.

“What are you waiting for, sunshine? Show them who I belong to.”

His fingers rake through my hair as he presses his lips to mine. A few cheers and whistles hit my ears, but I barely hear them. All I see, hear, and feel is Easton Miller. My best friend. My stepbrother.My person.

He tilts my head, and I part my lips, allowing him to chase my tongue with his. His body moves against mine to the beat, and I moan into his mouth, getting as close to him as I possibly can. There’s not an inch of space between us as he kisses me until I’m breathless.

I pull back just enough to break the kiss, our breaths mingling.

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