Page 141 of The Influencer

I stare at him, and he stares back. I sense some resignation on his end, and on mine there’s just sadness where there should be relief. Part of me wants to shake him and ask, “who did this to you?” But I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that already. He has about as much of a clue how to be in a functioning relationship as I do. “I’m not letting that man’s dick anywhere near my ass. So let me think about it, and if I decide to do it, I’ll make my own arrangements, and we’ll go from there.”

He gives me a deferential nod.

“But for tonight, will you fucking put your arm around me and act like you do care that other men are staring at me?”

“Jade…” he says, an apology building in all the softening edges of his beautiful face and finally—finally, he not only puts an arm around me, but pulls me across his lap and kisses me deeply, hands in my hair and everything. I collapse against him when our mouths break apart, my face pressed to his neck, and his lips on my ear. “I get that you’re not mine,” he says, “but sometimes I really do wish you could be.”

Leave it to me to be the first one to cry at a party.

I dance to shove my anxiety back where it belongs. Well, that, and I get plastered. By the time Asher finally joins me on the dance floor, he’s ready to leave, and the floor is tilting, so I have to agree with him that the time is right to make our exit.

I’ve now gotten an up close and personal feel for the Lopez Twelve, but I laughed Lucas off when he asked if he could DM me. Still, I get the feeling I’ll be getting a message from him either way. The effects of all the tequila I’ve ingested over the last three hours have been diverse. I’m on an emotional rollercoaster—weepy one moment, wishing I could melt into the dance floor, and then the next, someone grabs my ass and I’m like—yeah, sure—I can do this. Sex is amazing. I love sex. Sex is the best thing ever.

Give me all the sex.

And then I’ll catch Asher talking to Jax or Elio or whomever, and I’ll want to rip my heart from my chest and dance all over it until it looks as useless as it feels.

But when he catches me in the middle of a slow song and presses my body firmly to his, I cling to him like a tree in a hurricane. He kisses his way through my hair, and I slide my thumbs behind his waistband, letting him hold me up while we sway to the music. I close my eyes and let the momentary peace cascade over me, and it’s so nice. So fucking perfect.

“Let’s get you home, beautiful,” he says.

I nod against him, and we leave the dance floor. I assume he’s said his goodbyes and recognizes I’m not in any shape to offer my own because we don’t stop moving until we’re waiting for the valet to bring his car around. I lean on his shoulder, and he keeps an arm around my waist, his hand in constant motion, caressing my side and hip. “How was your night?” he asks.

“Fine,” I say. “How was yours?”

“It ended better than it started.”

“You’ll have to catch me up on all the Adam stuff later when I can think straight.”

“We just needed to clear the air. It wasn’t any big deal.”

Liar. He’d been like a new person when he came back from his walk with his brother. He had swagger. Sexy swagger. So fucking sexy.

“Whoa, killer, you wanna wait until we’re back at the condo before you start undressing me?”

I have my hand down his pants. The back, of them, but still. “Sorry,” I mumble, but don’t manage to pull it all the way out. His skin is so warm.

“I’m not gonna fuck you if you’re not gonna remember it tomorrow.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I tell him.

“You’re pretty drunk. And I did have something special planned.”

“You what?” I look up at him, concerned I won’t be getting the special plan now that I’ve drunk my weight in Avion.

“It’ll keep,” he says.

I make a noise of utter defeat and slump against him just as the car pulls up. Asher opens the passenger door, sees me safely inside, and soon, we’re driving back to Hollywood. He keeps one hand on the wheel and one on my leg. I hold onto that one.

“Is the special plan a surprise?” I ask.

“It is now,” he says, throwing a smirk my way.

I hate sober people. So in control all the time while the rest of us are just trying to deal. “What did you say to Adam?” I ask.

“I told him I’m a big boy now.”

“That’s it?”

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