Page 89 of Too Safe

“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go see if the hot tub’s occupied.”

I jump out of the way so they can pass. I didn’t even know this place had a hot tub.

“Um, excuse me?” The redhead still stationed on the love seat has the audacity to jump in next.

“Get your own drinks,” I snark, moving a step closer and crossing my arms under my breasts. I’m over this mean-girl shit.

She picks at her nail polish and has the decency to look bashful. “No, no. That’s not what I was going to say. Ignore Angelica. I know you’re not a server. But I have seen you here before, haven’t I? With the guys?”

I stare at her, deadpan, scrambling to get ahead of whatever trap she’s setting.

“Your point?” I ask to buy myself some time.

“Um, well…”

Seriously. What’s this girl’s problem?

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Decker.” She looks up at me with wide puppy dog eyes and bats her lashes. Her uncertainty finally makes sense. She’s wondering where her boy toy’s gotten off to, and she’s also trying to figure out if I’m a threat.

Noted.

“I haven’t,” I answer honestly, dread churning faster in my gut at the reminder. “Sorry.”

With that, I head back into the house and continue my quest to track down Decker Crusade.

“Hot Girl!” Locke comes at me from behind, wrapping me in a bear hug and lifting me off my feet. “We won!”

His scent envelops me—sugar cane and mint; sweet, fresh, and perfectly him—delivering a heady rush that inspires tingles through my whole body.

“You always win,” I laugh, swatting at his arms until he sets me down. Every eye in the kitchen is on us. I can only imagine the questions. None of which I want to address tonight.

Locke obviously doesn’t share my sentiment.

Ducking to lower his lips to my ear, he winds one big hand into the hair at the back of my head.

“Maybe we should celebrate,” he whispers with a smile against the crook of my neck. “I bet the pantry’s available.”

He nips at my earlobe, and I shiver, despite the arousal stoking warmth in my belly. I lean back against his broad chest, glancing up to follow the lines of his neck piece.

I love the way he purrs and holds me tighter when I run my nails down his forearms. And after all the highs and lows of this week, plus that run-in with Kendrick on the sidelines? I could use a little stress relief in the form of Emo Boy–delivered orgasms.

But then one of the many team cheers is chanted by the crowd throughout the house. And my thoughts ping back to Decker.

Pushing up on tiptoes so my lips graze his jaw, I murmur “raincheck?” then swivel my hips against him in a tantalizing promise. “Maybe we could hang out and watch a movie this week?”

“Hell yeah. You’re serious?” he asks, his eyes bright.

“Yeah, I want to hang out,” I answer with a smile, “but I need to take care of something right now.”

Reluctantly, I spin out of his arms, giving him a quick glance over my shoulder as I retreat from the kitchen.

At the bottom of the stairs, I pass the sentries standing guard on either side of their ridiculous velvet rope. The one on the right—Corbin, I think—offers a nod of recognition. At least I won’t have to fight my way up to my own room tonight.

I bypass the living room, where the same DJ who’s here every week has the whole place bumping and grinding. There are so many bodies smashed together on the makeshift dance floor, it’s impossible to figure out who’s dancing with whom.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Decker dancing at one of these parties, so I give the crowd a cursory once-over.

The media room and the gym are unoccupied. I call out in the garage, but it’s empty aside from jet skis and sports equipment. I double check the pantry just to be sure—although wouldn’t that be the irony of all ironies if I found him in there? Finally, I come to the only place on the main level I haven’t checked: the master suite.

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