Page 35 of Drown in You

Once she finally leaves the dance floor, fanning her flushed cheeks, she tries to ignore me. Pretends I don’t exist.

I slide over the drink I ordered for her. “Reminds me of the night we met.”

Her nose scrunches at the glass. “How do I know you didn’t spike this with something?”

My jaw clenches. She must not have heard about what happened to Chloe. “I’d never do anything like that. To you or anybody.”

She blanches at the sharp edge to my tone, grabbing up the glass but still refusing to take a sip. “Okay. Good.”

“Relax. It’s water. Figured you could use some after all that dancing.”

Finally, Sienna takes a hesitant sip. Relief washes over her when she discovers I’m not lying, and she downs half the glass. She takes a seat, leaving a few empty stools between us. “Please tell me you didn’t watch me dance.”

I move to sit right beside her, her intoxicating jasmine scent drifting up my nose, and she stiffens. Her bare thigh is prominently on display, begging to be squeezed, kissed, sucked. “How could I not watch you dance in that dress?”

She rolls her eyes, even as my words make her throat bob.

Now that she’s inches away, I rake my gaze over every inch. Where the neckline plunges to reveal her cleavage, where the hem stops just below her ass, where the fabric cinches in at the waist and hugs over her hips. She’s beautiful in that dress. In everything. In nothing.

Sienna takes another gulp of her water, keeping her gaze fixed on the alcohol behind the bartender. “You should find a girl who isn’t your stepsister to hook up with tonight. Some other girl who can help you sleep through the night.” She gestures around the bar. “There are plenty of options.”

If only she knew she’s not just my stepsister or some girl. She’s everything. Everything I didn’t know I’ve been waiting for.

At the booth, the redhead who’d been in Damien’s lap now has her hand on his chest and some other guy’s. Probably a boyfriend or a jealous ex. Damien is ready to rip the guy’s head off for her. He’ll do just about anything for a night with new puck-bunny pussy.

Sienna would never grind against some other guy while her boyfriend was ten feet away.

I shake my head. “There are no other options. There’s only you.”

For a second, she preens at the praise before she buries the joy back down. She loves my flattery, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

If it was Ten saying that to her, she’d love it.

Damien and the jealous boyfriend stomp toward the exit, taking the fight outside. The redhead protests at their backs, even as she grins, loving that two guys are about to fight over her.

I grit my teeth. I don’t want to leave Sienna at the bar alone, but right now, Damien needs me more than she does.

“Don’t drink anything anyone gives you,” I warn her before I follow the group outside.

In the cold, the redhead shivers in her tiny skirt and top while the guys swing fists and land punches with sickening thuds on each other’s arms and jaws. Damien’s buzzed enough to be pissed but not stumbling drunk like his opponent. He doesn’t need my help, and I’m not jumping in to catch an elbow to the gut or a fist to the face if I don’t have to. Hockey fights are hard enough on the body—I don’t need to get into fights off the ice too.

Once the dude is laid out, the redhead gloms onto Damien’s arm. He shakes her off. Already lost interest.

I clap him on the shoulder as he heads back for the door. “You good?”

“Great. Knuckles barely even hurt.”

A loud burst of laughter greets us when we head back in, carrying over the thumping music. I’d recognize that high, musical laugh anywhere.

Who the fuck is making her laugh like that?

Chapter 11

Sienna

Knox is practically drooling over the sluttiest dress Violet and Juliet plucked from my closet.

Tonight, Juliet is a goth princess in a short black skirt and top that barely qualifies as a shirt, stopping just below her boobs. Tights with a rose pattern cling to her legs and all she needs to complete the look is an onyx crown. Violet has traded in her long, flowing skirt for a sinful red dress that hugs her every curve. Wes-approved, I’m sure.

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