Page 40 of Ward Willing
A twinge of unexpected jealousy flashes through me, and I smack him on the shoulder as hard as I can. “Gross.”
“Or,” he purrs into my ear, grey eyes twinkling. “Maybeyoucan be his nice, little sub.”
“Hey.”
Liam’s voice cuts through the air, and Orion stands up straight. I push past him a little too roughly, then, I cough out, “Bastard!” before finding a seat at the end of the booth.
To my horror, Liam comes and sits directly next to me. I grab the drink menu to distract myself, pretending to be fully immersed.
“You’re not old enough to drink,” he growls, removing his flannel to showcase a tight, black T-shirt.
It’s suddenlystiflingin here.
I set the menu down and unbutton my leather jacket as I hollow my cheeks. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that I have a fake ID then,” I whisper, tugging the jacket off.
“Youwhat?” he seethes, eyes blazing into mine. “Since when?”
I laugh as I shrug out of the jacket all the way, discarding it on the shelf above the booth. “Since I was sixteen. How else was I supposed to have fun at Thatcher?”
Liam’s jaw rolls as he glares at me, but then his eyes widen as they rove downward.
Fuck.
“Are you wearing my shirt?”
I decide to play it casual. “Yeah. I discovered your box of cool band tees over a year ago. I thought you knew.”
If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure Liam’s icy stare could cut through glass.
“How often do you go into my bedroom?”
I shrug, looking down at the beer menu. “Not often.”
When he doesn’t respond right away, I look up to find his eyes on… me.
And his pupils? They’re blown nearly black.
Fuck.
“Hi there.”
A sensual female voice startles me. In the time between sitting down and now, a woman I don’t recognize pulled a chair up right next to Liam.
He clears his throat as he turns his attention to her. “Hi.”
Her eyes flick to me. She’s pretty. Older—maybe mid-thirties. Straight, blonde hair. Freckles. A pretty smile andveryfull breasts she has no problem showing off in a light pink cashmere sweater. If she’s at the munch—orslosh,as it’s called when alcohol is involved—it means she’s probably a sub. I can’t speak for all munches in every area, but in Crestwood, new people are usually subs looking for a rich Dom. Not always, but that’s been my experience.
“I’m new to this meetup,” she says, looking shy and demure. “Have you been to one of these before?”
Liam looks at me uncomfortably.
Great.
“I’ll go order us drinks. What do you want?” I ask, my voice a bit too sharp as I grab my wallet out of my jacket.
“A Corona for me.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me his wallet. I ignore him.
He looks at the woman. “What about you?”
