Page 38 of Pick Six
“Oh, I think they’d mix. I don’t know if I can handle you in this dress. But I’m willing to try.”
She rolls her eyes. “Alex… Look at me and then look at your ex-girlfriend, lover, whatever you want to call her.”
I take the opportunity to slide closer to her, bringing our bodies only inches apart, tilting my head down as I whisper in her ear like a fucking devil on her shoulder.
“Look at me and then look atyourex. You had a choice and chose him. But I’m not holding it against you. Fuck I’ll even let you use me for revenge. You can’t exactly go back and cheat on him. But you can fuck his best friend.”
I’ve just fucking jumped in headfirst and while it’s probably not wise, the way her eyes flash to mine, bright with interest before she flutters her lashes and looks away is the hint I need. Because I will try something, anything, to get her to take a chance on me. I know if she does, she won’t regret it. I’ll prove it was the right choice over and over, but first I need her to take the chance.
“Be serious, Alex.”
“I’m being serious, Saint. Dead-fucking-serious. The way you kissed me? The way you look at me? You should try it. Fuck me. You want to, and for all your complaints about ethics here, you’ve got to know how good it would feel to be riding his best friend’s cock. Knowing I’d be deeper than he’s ever been. That I’d make you come harder.”
I hear the short puff of air that comes out of her on an exhale, the color in her cheeks visible even in the dull light out here. And fuck it makes me harder when I see the effect I have on her.
“Alex…”
TWENTY
Harper
I startto tell him why he’s wrong, but he swallows the protest up by kissing me. His lips are on mine in rough hard strokes. It’s not sweet or tender, just raw and unfiltered. The kind of claiming kiss that has me wondering why I keep trying to find reasons not to just give in. His hand slides along my jaw, his palm curling beneath my ear and his fingers lace through my hair. He tilts my head back and his tongue slides along my lower lip.
I go to put my hand between us, to stop him and tell him this is wrong, but a soft swipe of his tongue over mine has me remembering the way he kissed me the first night we met. The way I felthewas the only guy I’d ever really wanted. It has me forgetting anything but how much I want him right now. So instead, I part my lips, letting him have what he wants because right now—the way he tastes, the way he feels, I can’t bring myself to care about anything else but how much I want the things that only he can give me. If that makes me a bad person, I’m willing to accept those consequences.
Before I know what I’m doing, my hand is running upwards and skimming over his shoulder to his neck. It’s all the encouragement he needs before he presses forward. His hands slide over my body, over my hips, and then down over my ass where he grabs me hard and presses me against him. His tongue runs over mine again, a series of soft strokes followed by rougher ones that set my nerve endings on fire.
A second later and I’m lifted onto the ledge behind us and he’s stepping between my legs, his hands drifting over my thighs. I pull my dress back, spreading my legs and sliding forward. I’ve always wondered how big he is, if his size matches the rest of him and right now, I feel like I need to know. Because I’m seriously considering his offer. If he is serious, and I don’t know if he is, not really, because despite the way he acts, he’s smart. He has to know the same thing I do—crossing that line would be playing with fire. Especially while we try to fake our way through this.
He slides his tongue over mine one last time before he trails kisses down my jaw and over my neck. I arch into him as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. I want him, and he should be mine. At least for a night. I deserved it, right? For being the good one all the time and trying to do the right thing. Date the right guy. Be the good wife. If the player wants to fuck me for one night, who does that really hurt?
“I swear I’ll fuck you right, Saint,” he whispers the words against my skin. “Any fucking way you want. You just say the words.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, yes. To give in to my curiosity. To get over this post-divorce drought. To see what he feels like.
But before I can say anything there’s a loud cough to my right and we both look over to see Colton standing there.
“I uh… didn’t mean to interrupt but they’re looking for you, Xander. You’re gonna be up next for a presentation.”
I turn away, feeling the blush rise to my cheeks at being caught like a couple of teenagers by Colton St. George, therealsaint of this friend group. Or Priest as the guys like to call him. Alex must be feeling similarly shamed by our discovery because he looks down for a minute and then back up at Colton. He steps in front of me, shielding me from view and I push my dress back down into place.
“Yup. Be right in,” Alex calls to him.
Colton nods and then heads back inside. I slip off my spot on the ledge, brushing the back of my dress and hoping that I didn’t get anything on it. That’s all I need is to ruin this halfway through the first night I wear it. I’d been so deep into Alex that I hadn’t been thinking at all really.
“Harper—” he starts.
“It’s fine. You should get back in, so we don’t hold them up.” I nod toward the door, grabbing my drink again and heading that way myself. Because now I need back inside, with lots of people around to keep me safe from how quickly I fall to pieces around this man when we’re alone. That’s something I need to get a grip on, desperately.
TWENTY-ONE
Alex
Coltand the Lawtons share a car they call and head back to their side of town, while Tobias, his date, Harper, and I get back in the one we came in. I watch them warily because I can already tell that Tobias and his fangirl had several drinks, and she’s ready to seize the night’s opportunity while she has it. Tobias doesn’t give two shits about who’s around, especially if it’s me who’s used to his exhibitionism. So I’m not entirely surprised when his date climbs into his lap a few moments after we pull away from the curb.
Harper’s eyes go wide and then she looks to the window, watching out it like it holds great interest for her. But I see her shooting the occasional glance in their direction, especially as the sounds they make start to get louder. Finally, she looks over at me, a brow raised and a questioning look.
I pull my phone out and send her a text.
