by Laura Lee
Bent shrugs. “Don’t know. Why are your hands empty? Let’s get you ladies some drinks.”
The three of us head inside and order drinks from the bartender. Vodka cran for me, a screwdriver for Ains, and a bottle of beer for Bentley. By the time we’re nursing our third round, we’re all on the edge of the temporary dance floor, swaying to the music.
When “Dark Side” by Bishop Briggs starts blasting through the speakers, Bentley grabs my red cup and sets it on the nearest surface. “C’mere, girl.”
As he drags me to the center of writhing bodies, I make eye contact with Ains. She raises her drink and smiles knowingly. The last two times Bentley and I danced together, I wound up locked in a room naked with her brother. I shiver, trying to squash the memories.
Bent pulls my back to his front, wrapping his arm around my middle. We move our hips in time with the sensual beat, getting lost in the rhythm. My life doesn't revolve around dance like it does with Ainsley, but it's still one of my favorite things. Closing my eyes, zoning out on the beat, I allow the music to direct my body. It's one of the rare moments when I don't think; I just do.
Now, dancing with Bentley is a different story. The boy can move, which I can't help but relate to sex. With him, I tune in, rather than out. I’m aware of every little touch. Every lyric. Every breath. Most of all, I’m conscious of the dichotomy between my body and brain.
My brain knows I'm leading him on. I know Bent's developing feelings for me that veer into girlfriend territory, whereas mine end at friendship. Then, there's the part where I'm antagonizing Kingston every time I'm tempted by his best friend. I don't want to drive a wedge between them, yet more and more each day, that seems to be the case.
The thing is, I've grown to care for Bentley. I genuinely feel he could be one of the most important people in my life, but not if we screw this up. We're at a crossroads, and we need to figure out which way to go. The problem with that is our fierce attraction to one another; it's palpable, almost as strong as the pull I feel toward Kingston. I don't know how to achieve balance, and when I'm dancing with Bentley like this, I don't want to.
I have a moment of déjà vu when Bent's erection presses against my back. I'm so tempted to reach back and touch him, and I'm sure he wouldn't object.
“You look so fucking hot in this thing, Jazz,” his deep voice rumbles in my ear as his fingers flirt with the short hem of my red minidress. “I know I’m asking for trouble, but I don’t fucking care right now.”
My lids flutter when he grinds into me harder. More purposefully. Damn, the boy is blessed.
“Bentley...” That’s all I’ve got. My brain seems to have short-circuited.
“You have no idea how badly I want to peel this dress off.” His fingertip brushes my inner thigh beneath the stretchy fabric. “Touch you. Run my tongue all over your pussy.”
He’s so close to my panties—it’s not a difficult task in this dress, considering there’s not much material. I’m so wet, the satin is soaked through. If his finger moved up another inch, he’d discover this.
“We shouldn’t.” My voice is breathy, not very convincing. I doubt he can even hear me over the music.
Bentley groans before removing his hand and placing it in a more respectable place. We're crammed in the middle of so many people, it's unlikely anyone saw his hand up my skirt. Even if they did, couples are doing a lot worse on this dance floor, so I doubt they'd care.
“You don’t know what you’re missing if you don’t try.”
“He’s your best friend,” I argue.
Bentley runs the bridge of his nose up the side of my neck. “He is, which is exactly why he knows what a big deal this is.”
I turn around to face him, but I stay close. “What’s a big deal? That you want to screw me? You’re not exactly a monk, Bent.”
He gives me a soft smile. “Not even close to what I was referring to, but that’s a story for another time. Besides, I think it’d be good for him if we gave him some real competition.”
I chuckle half-heartedly. "I don't think Kingston would agree."
Bentley leans down and presses his mouth against my ear. “I know you want me, Jazz. I’d bet my fucking Porsche that your panties are soaked right now. That your clit is throbbing, begging for attention. I'd barely have to touch you before you were coming all over my tongue." I gasp when his fingers curl under the hem of my dress, and he licks the shell of my ear. "Davenport may think he has a claim on you, but not once have you confirmed that. Isn’t that right? You don’t belong to anyone?”
“I belong to myself.”
“Exactly. So, why can’t we—”
I dig my nails into his forearms when I get a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. On instinct, my eyes scan the room, looking for the reason why. When I find him, he’s marching toward us like a man possessed. The crowd parts, desperately trying to avoid Kingston’s wrath. Bentley tenses when I turn around and shake out of his hold.
“Shit,” I mutter.
When Kingston finally reaches us, his eyes slowly travel the length of my body, taking in my minuscule dress and heeled sandals. His eyes are so heated, flames lick my skin everywhere his gaze touches. After getting so worked up from dancing, and the way Kingston's looking at me right now, I know Bentley's right. If anyone touched between my thighs right now, I'd detonate in seconds.
Kingston scans me once more before drilling his gaze into the man behind me. “What the fuck’s going on, Bent?”
I hold up a hand, trying to diffuse the situation. “Now, hold on, you two. Why don’t we—”
“Reed! What are you doing? Stop it!”
All three of us immediately whip our heads around when we hear Ainsley’s anguished cry.
Kingston gets a lock on her first and leads the charge into action. Ainsley keeps screaming at Reed to stop, and as we get closer, I see why. He’s currently beating on that Lawson guy. The music comes to a grinding halt, allowing every grunt and thud to echo throughout the cavernous room.
Kingston and Bentley both assess the situation before forming a protective barrier around Ainsley and me. A minute ago, they looked like they were ready to kill each other. Now, they're working in perfect harmony, and I don't think they even realize it.
“What the hell is going on?” Kingston asks his sister.
"I don't know!" Ainsley shouts, tears running down her face. "I was talking to Lawson, and all of a sudden, Reed is punching him in the face."
Reed and Lawson are fairly matched in both size and skill, but Reed has this feral look in his eyes that gives him an edge. I wince when Reed takes an uppercut to the jaw, but it barely affects him. When Reed’s hand connects with Lawson’s face, Lawson wails, cupping his cheekbone.
I throw my hands out toward the melee. “Why aren’t you guys stopping this?”
“Reed wouldn’t be doing this unless he had a damn good reason,” Bentley explains.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?” Lawson yells, staggering to the side and spitting blood on the floor. “I didn’t do shit to you!”
“You put something in her drink!” Reed bellows, jabbing a finger in Ainsley’s direction. Damn. Calm and collected Reed Prescott has definitely left the building. “I fucking saw you do it when she turned her head away!”
Both mine and Ainsley's jaws drop at that piece of info. Kingston and Bentley seem to realize the same thing I do because they look like they're about to jump into the fight.
Kingston points a finger at me. “Is that what you did to her? “Did you fucking drug her?” His tone is quiet. Deadly.
At this point, what appears to be the entire party has formed a circle around the six of us.
Lawson holds his hands out. “Now, wait just a fucking minute. I was doing you dicks a favor!”
“What?!” Bentley lunges for him, but Kingston pulls him back.
“You have two seconds to explain.” Kingston’s jaw and fists are clenching.
Lawson swings his arm out in Bentley’
s direction. “He told me to bring her to you nice and sloppy. She was barely sipping her drinks, and it was taking forever, so I sped up the process. It was a low dose; it wouldn’t have done any real damage. You should be thanking me, assholes. You got to have your way with her, didn’t you?” Lawson turns his head to leer at me. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get a turn first.”
A loud gasp rings through the crowd right before all hell breaks loose. Kingston releases some sort of battle cry right as he starts punching the shit out of Lawson. Bentley and Reed join in the fray, and all three of them go at him, punching, kicking, pretty much whatever they can do until Lawson is on the ground, nearly unconscious.
Bentley and Reed back off when Lawson’s body goes limp, but Kingston keeps pummeling his face, over and over and over again. Lawson’s head thuds against the marble floor with a resounding crack, his face is practically unrecognizable, but Kingston doesn’t let up. Bentley and Reed try pulling him off, but Kingston’s too enraged. He’s crouched down, hulking out on this dude, and I seriously think he might kill him if he doesn’t stop.
“Kingston!” I scream. “Stop it! You’re going to kill him!”
Ainsley’s repeating the same words, trying desperately to get through to her twin.
“Good!” he yells, punching again.
I know it’s stupid, considering how scary and amped up Kingston is right now, but I charge toward him anyway. Bentley and Reed try holding me back, but I manage to squirm between them until I’m placing a hand on Kingston’s shoulder. He immediately freezes and whips his head back to meet my gaze.
“He’s not worth it, Kingston.” I squat down next to him, probably flashing half the room, but I don’t really give a shit. I rest my forehead against his and cup my hands over his cheeks. “He’s not fucking worth it. I’m okay. He didn’t get to me. He didn’t get to Ainsley. We’re okay. I’m here.” I kiss the corner of his mouth, tasting blood on my lips. “I’m here.”
Kingston releases a shuddering breath before clutching my arms, hauling me off the hard floor. He crushes me to his chest, holding on for dear life as he gets his breathing under control. I turn my head to the side and see Ainsley wrapped around Reed, sobbing. He’s smoothing his hand down her back, whispering something in her ear. Lawson is starting to wake up, groaning, but making no effort to peel himself off the floor. I’m half tempted to kick that fucker, but I’m pretty sure it’ll only exacerbate the situation.
After a few moments, Kingston pulls back slightly and finds Bentley. “Will you take care of this?” Kingston scans the crowd and adds, “Party’s over! Get the fuck out of here!”
Bentley nods. “I got it, man. Go get cleaned up.”
Kingston looks down, seeing all the blood. He seems confused like he doesn't know how it got there. His grip on my hand is firm as he leads me away.
“You can’t do that!” Peyton screams as her guests scurry toward the door. “Come back! You don’t have to leave. It’s my party!”
I turn back and find that she’s still topless, dripping all over the floor.
I hold my hand up. “Oh my God, Peyton, put your tits away! Nobody needs to see that shit.”
"Really?" she taunts. "Because I know for a fact, Kingston loves my tits. He’s told me so many, many times as he was fucking them. And at the very end, he'd slide his dick into my mouth, and I'd swallow every ounce of his cum. He said I was the best titty fuck he’d ever had.” She cups her breasts suggestively. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Snickers and oohs ring out through the remaining bystanders.
“Fuck off, Peyton.” Kingston’s grip on my hand tightens. “Let’s go, Jazz. She’s not worth it.”
Peyton glares at both of us as Kingston repeats my words from earlier. “You’ll never keep him, Jasmine. Just remember that all this bullshit will be for nothing. Everything you’ll go through will be for nothing.”
Kingston marches toward the stairs, yanking me behind him. As I’m trying to decode her cryptic words, Peyton yells Kingston’s name, but he simply lifts his middle finger in the air. When we reach the top of the stairs, he bypasses my bedroom and pulls me into a guest room, locking the door behind us.
When I look at him questioningly, he says, “No camera.”
Right. Well, at least he had enough sense to remember that.
“Come on.” I incline my head toward the ensuite. “There’s a first aid kit under my bathroom cabinet. Let’s see if there’s one in there, too.”
Kingston nods, following me silently into the bathroom.
Jesus, how did everything go to shit so quickly? This seems to be a developing trend, and I really don’t like the possibilities of what could happen next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
KINGSTON
I hiss when Jazz swipes a cotton ball over the torn skin on my knuckles.
She rolls her beautiful brown eyes. “Quit being such a baby.”
“It fucking stings,” I mutter.
"Really?" She lifts her sculpted eyebrows. "You can get punched in the face, no problem, but not handle a little antiseptic on your hand?"
My eyes narrow. “I had adrenaline working for me then.”
She throws the cotton ball in the trash and steps back to assess her work. “I’m glad to see most of that blood wasn’t yours. It’s not nearly as bad as it looked.”
I reach behind me, pulling my shirt off. I don’t miss the way Jazz’s eyes hone in on my upper body.
“I could really use a shower.” I gesture to the smeared blood on her skin from being pressed up against me. “You too.”
Jazz nods. "You're right." She grabs a bath towel from the shelf next to her. "You can take this one, and I'll go jump in mine real quick."
I hook my finger under the strap of her tiny dress. Christ, when I first saw her tonight, all I wanted to do was throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the nearest available surface. After I decked Bentley for putting his hands on her, that is.
“We could save water and take one together.”
"Haha, funny guy."
“I wasn’t joking.”
I have to suppress a groan when Jazz wets her lips. “Kingston—”
“What? It’s okay if Bentley touches you, but not me? Why is that?”
Her eyes fill with fire. “I didn’t ask Bentley to touch me."
“You didn’t stop it either. You know, I’m curious, what would’ve happened if I hadn’t arrived at that very moment? Bentley looked about ready to drag you into a dark corner. Would you have let him? Hell, would you have let him stick his hand up your dress even farther, fingering your pussy right there in the middle of a crowded room?”
“I don’t know.” Jazz looks away. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have actually slept with him.”
My teeth grind together. “Not the answer I was looking for, Jazz.”
She throws her hands up. “Do you want me to lie? I thought we were done hiding shit from each other.”
“Okay, since we’re being so honest, why don’t you tell me what this is, then?” I flick my finger between the two of us. “Do. You. Want. Me? Do you want to be with me?”
“You seriously want to have the define our relationship talk right now?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why not now? It seems to be necessary after what I saw down there.”
She mimics my pose. “For one, you just knocked a guy unconscious. Maybe even hospitalized him. Shouldn’t the police be showing up any minute now to arrest you?”
I scoff. “Bentley will take care of it. Did you see all those phones trained on the fight? We have Lawson’s confession. If anyone needs to lawyer up, it’d be him.”
Jazz rubs her temples. “I can’t do this right now.”
"It's a simple yes or no question, Jazz." I pull her hands away from her face and tilt her chin up. "I think I've already made my position clear, but just in case, let me spell it out for you. I haven't fucked anyone else since before we met. Besides a few kisses with that c
hick in the hot tub—which was all for show—I haven't touched anyone else. I don’t want to. You are the only woman I want. In my bed, by my side, it’s all you.”
“Kingston—”
“I’m not done.” I take her face in my hands and press our foreheads together. “When I found you that night, when I thought I was going to lose you forever, it was like a giant wake up call. I don’t want to push you away anymore, Jazz. I don’t want to pretend like you’re not my goddamned world—not when it’s just us, Ainsley, or the guys.
“I’m sick of being surrounded by all these secrets and lies. I’m fed up with the uncertainty. I know we need to keep playing the game for the greater good, but I need something real, too, and you’re the realest fucking thing I’ve ever known. You want the same thing, Jazz. You can’t deny it. Not to me.”
“This is crazy,” she whispers. “We just met a couple of months ago.”
“Technically speaking, we met when we were babies.” Jazz’s lips are so close, I can’t help myself. I press my mouth against hers, tugging on her full bottom lip with my teeth.
“Kingston.”
“Jasmine.”
Her warm breath tickles my face as she sighs. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away either. It’s exhausting. But...”
I pull back a little to look her in the eyes. “But what?”
Jazz averts her eyes and chews on the corner of her lip. “But...I can’t pretend this thing with Bentley doesn’t exist. I like him—purely as a friend—but...not a platonic friend. We have this crazy chemistry. I don’t know how to make that go away, and I don’t think it’s fair for me to tell you I’m all in when there’s this big, unresolved issue.”
Her attraction to my best friend isn’t breaking news, but it still takes me a moment to formulate a reply. What I really want to do, is go apeshit on someone’s face again, but instead, I say, “I can’t share, Jazz. Not with you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m not that kind of—” She shakes her head. “You and me...we’re complicated enough. I have no desire to add to that.” She laughs sardonically. “Besides, the thought of you in a poly relationship, with another guy no less, is a joke. It doesn’t mesh with that whole caveman thing you’ve got going on.”