Page 162 of Stick It
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I grunt, looking around and noticing most of the team have already left—or are hidden in a dark corner. I don’t really give a fuck. Kyle is nowhere to befound, and now that I’ve had a taste of my hurricane, I want more. Now.
With Jax and I flanking her, the three of us push through the crowd and out of the club. It’s only a ten-minute cab ride back to the hotel, and we walk Dylan to her door. Her cheeks are still flushed, her stance unsteady. Jax rubs a hand down her back, his gaze lingering on hers before he murmurs, “I’m gonna check on Finn. He was really knocking the shots back earlier, and I wanna make sure he hasn’t drowned in his own puke.”
Dylan’s nose scrunches adorably, but concern bleeds into her expression as her gaze flicks toward the door of the room I’m sharing with Finn. She worries her bottom lip before Jax tugs it free. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” she offers.
He flashes her a grin before moving away, and I step into her field of view. “I’ll grab a few things from my room,” I tell her, brushing a knuckle under her chin. “Then I’ll be back.”
“You don’t have to?—”
I cut her off with a press of my finger over her lips. “If you think for one second I’d leave you to spend the night alone in a hotel, you clearly have no idea the lengths I’d go to keep you safe.”
She rolls her eyes but huffs out a breath. “Fine.” Waving toward the door behind her, she says, “I guess I’ll be here.”
I wait until she’s safely tucked away behind her door before striding after Jax. Stepping into my room, I’m hit with a wall of sweat and tequila.Delightful. Ethan is sitting at the head of my bed, legs stretched out in front of him, with Jax standing nearby, the two of them looking at a passed-out Finn.
“He’s fine,” Ethan assures. “Just dead to the world. He’ll feel it tomorrow.”
“Bus journey home will be some fun,” Jax mutters, dragging a hand through his hair.
“It’s late,” Ethan says, moving to stand. “We should all get some rest.”
They both head out the door, but just as I’m about to close it behind them, I notice Ethan isn’t moving toward his door across the hall, but to one farther down. To Dylan’s. He stops outside, and, curious, I watch as he just stands there, frowning at the door like it’s offended him.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, sighing loudly. “What is this, the waiting room for purgatory?”
Ethan doesn’t look at me. “I just… I fucked up twice already.” His face twists in a grimace, shoulders slumping. “I need to make it up to her first.”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “You planning to do that telepathically? She’s not a mind reader, Maddox.”
Still, he doesn’t move. Just continues staring at the bit of wood separating him from Dylan. The guy’s got more self-control than anyone I know, and yet it’s driving him fucking crazy.
“Well,” I drawl, “If you’re planning on sleeping outside her door, just know I’ll be sleepinginsideit. And if Dylan and I are sharing that bed, you can guarantee there will be very little actualsleepinginvolved.”
He flinches. I smirk. “Thin walls, remember.”
With that, I turn to go. I’ve barely shut the door when I hear it—a soft knock. Then the low murmur of voices.
When I crack the door open and peek into the hallway, Ethan’s gone.
48
DYLAN
I wake slowly,the kind of lazy, drifting wake-up that makes it easy to forget where I am. For a second, I think I’m back in my room on Athletes Row, sunlight warming my comforter, and a practice I’m probably running late for waiting in the distance.
A knock sounds at the door, soft yet persistent, and I realize that’s what woke me up. “Menace,” Jax says through the wood.
“Jax?” I murmur, brain foggy from sleep. I reach up to rub my eyes. “What time is it?” I go to grab my phone from the bedside table, but something tightens around my middle, preventing me from moving.
Glancing down, a heavy arm is slung over my waist, warm breath ghosting against the back of my neck, and the solid weight of a body curled protectively behind me.
At first, I assume it’s Griffin. I’m so used to him sneaking into my room at night that I don’t think twice about it, but then memories of last night creep to the forefront of my mind. Being out at the club. Dancing with Griffin and Jax. Ethan knocking on my door…
Twisting carefully, I glance over my shoulder.
Ethan’s face is relaxed in sleep, mouth slightly parted, lashesfanned over flushed cheeks. The golden morning light drips over the high angles of his cheekbone and the strong line of his jaw. He looks…soft. Human in a way he rarely lets himself be. Not the overprotective, broody captain he so frequently is during the day.
My heart does a little flip.
