Page 58 of Hide and Seek
I grab him by the front of the shirt and pull him in. “What did I tell you about her ass?” I question. “Don’t make me wrap this glass around your head.” He laughs, knowing damn well how to get a rise out of me, and as I make my way toward Harper, I can’t help but notice Ace trailing along. Ace isn’t the type to just sit back and allow shit to happen without stirring the pot, so I turn and meet his stare. “Sit your ass down before I break your legs and make you sit down.”
He laughs again, his gaze shifting over my shoulder to Harper, and there’s no denying the attraction there. “You screw it up with that one and I’ll be right there to take your place.”
I roll my eyes but am thankful when he retreats to the table and drops down with the guys. He says something to Diesel, and when both of the fuckers glance my way, grinning like the morons they are, I can only shake my head.
By the time I reach Harper, the whole team will be watching, and I don’t doubt they’ll have score cards ready to produce for every move I make. Every glance in her direction. Every fucking touch.
Letting out a heavy breath, I stride through the bar, wishing I hadn’t left my drink behind, but judging by the way Harperswings around and laughs on that bull, I can only assume she’s wasted. As I get closer, I notice she has a friend with her, cheering her on, but considering she can barely stand, I have to assume she’s just as drunk as Harper.
I step right up to the side of the ring, crossing my arms over my chest as Harper holds on to the bull with one hand, swinging the other in the air as though she were whipping a lasso. She rocks back and forward, her body being thrown from side to side, and I have no fucking idea how she isn’t throwing up by now. There’s no denying it though, she’s killing this competition.
As she whips back and forth, her gaze locks onto mine, and she lets out an excited squeal, her face splitting with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. I won’t lie, it warms something in my cold heart.
“New number one,” she whoops.
Her friend sucks in a breath, moving far too close to the mechanical bull to be considered safe. “New number one?” she squeals with excitement, and it takes me a minute to place her. Izabella maybe? Izabelle? I think I met her at Mae and Elias’ wedding. “Holy SHIIIIII—”
The mechanical bull takes her out, slamming into her ass and sending her hurtling face-first into the padded wall of the small arena. She lands with an oomph, holding her glass up high, somehow not spilling a drop, and just as I go to help her, Harper leaps to her feet and bounds toward me.
She drops to the ground, her legs up in the air and her skirt flying up to reveal everything she has to offer. She looks up at me with those big innocent eyes, and I fucking melt. “Harper,” I scold, leaning down and reaching for the front of her skirt and quickly pulling it down before holding out my hand to help her up. Her friend howls with laughter. “Where are your panties?”
Harper laughs and allows me to help her to her feet before gripping my arms as she climbs out of the small arena. Abeaming smile rips across her face followed by a quick hiccup. “I lost them,” she laughs. “Poof. They just disappeared. Ripped right off me.”
I gape at her. “They just disappeared, huh?” I resist the urge to look around, assuming that her lack of panties has everything to do with this other asshole she’s been with, the very reason she didn’t want to be exclusive—not that exclusivity was on the table in the first place.
She nods and holds up her hand, making fireworks with her fingers. “Poof.”
“Dare I ask how they just magically vanished into thin air? Are you here with someone?”
She nods before grabbing her friend and almost knocking her off her feet. She hooks her arm over her shoulder before declaring. “I’m here with Izzy. The Iz-meister. The one and only Izabelle Grace Davenport. Sounds fancy, right? Just rolls off the tongue. Izabelle Grace Davenport. She’s a fashion designer, you know. She’ll be killing it at New York Fashion Week before we know it.”
I nod, and a part of me is pleased that she’s not here with another man, but that doesn’t shed any light on the whereabouts of her underwear. “Hi Izabelle. Good to see you again.”
Izabelle grins at me. “Well, hi to you too, Mr. Get On Your Knees. You may call me Izzy.”
I arch a brow and glance at Harper, surprised to find that she shared that snippet of information with her friend, and she has the audacity to laugh about it. “What? Was I not supposed to go blabbing about the guy who took me in during my hour of need and then had his wicked way with me on his bedroom floor in the form of trying to bruise the little dangly thing in the back of my throat with his enormous cock? Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea, your majesty.”
She hiccups again, and it quickly turns into an awkward burp that makes me uneasy. “Whoops.”
“Harper,” I say, holding her attention. “Just how much have you drunk?”
Both of the girls hold up their hands, trying to count as they rattle off the details of their many trips to the bar. “Ummmm . . . I think seven . . . teen,” she grins before the grin slips away. “My tummy feels ooshy.”
“Ooshy?”
She nods. “Ooshy gooshy.”
Ahh fuck.
“Come on. I’m taking you home.”
Her eyes widen with excitement. “Are you going to hit me with that bossy dom shit again? Because I won’t lie, I enjoyed that. Though between you and me, I think I’m bossier.”
“Harper,” I warn.
“You know, I’m quite the cowgirl,” she says, deep in thought. “I’ve recently been in practice of my reverse cowgirl techniques, and I’m proud to announce that I’m a top tier screw with a deliciously delectable derriere.”
“Indeed,” I agree, putting my hand on each of the girls’ backs and leading them out of the bar. “You have a very delectable derriere. Nobody is arguing there,” I tell her. “But no. I’m taking you straight home, putting you to bed, and that’s it. Don’t even try it.”
