Page 58 of On the Way to You

“To Vegas.”

Trey eyed Emery, a little pissed, a little confused as he tapped his glass to mine. Then as he took his, I stood straight again, my chest still touching Emery, and with my eyes hot on his, I dropped the shot in the Red Bull and chugged.

All my senses were attacked violently in that next second, my eyes and throat burning in sync from the whiskey, but I didn’t cringe against the fire. I let it consume me, let it slide all the way down into my stomach as I wiped the corners of my mouth and stacked the empty glasses on the bar. Trey stepped around Emery, though we were still staring at each other, at least until Trey’s hand slipped between us with my Manhattan.

“Wanna dance?”

“Love to.” The words were like arrows lashing from my lips, and I aimed them straight at Emery as I snagged my clutch from the bar and tore my eyes from his, following Trey out to the dance floor.

I chugged half of my drink before Trey stopped, pulling my body flush against his. I was completely at a loss for why anyone actuallyenjoyeddrinking as another burn sliced its way through me. I shook my head, eyes squeezed shut, my hands holding tight to Trey’s arms for balance.

“I take it that was the person you were supposed to meet?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, still fighting the roll of my stomach as I added more alcohol to it.

Trey smirked, pulling me even closer, the hand not holding his drink sliding confidently down to my ass. “I think that’s our theme for the night.”

“We should get tattoos.”

He laughed at that, but then his eyes fell to my lips, and neither of us were laughing anymore. “I think I want to leave my mark on you in a different way tonight, Cooper.”

I swallowed, my heart thumping against my rib cage like it wanted to flee, like it didn’t want to see what would happen next. Trey squeezed his hand, bunching my dress with it, and then our bodies were moving, his leg between mine as we rolled and dipped. I’d never danced before — not unless you counted the times I was alone in my bedroom with a fake microphone and Taylor Swift on the radio — and this wasdefinitelynot that kind of dancing.

Sweat rimmed the roots of my hair the longer we moved, and I drained the rest of my drink, abandoning the empty glass on a nearby table as Trey followed suit. Then we had both hands to touch, to roam, to pull, to feel. Trey’s hands were enormous, his thumbs nearly touching above my navel as he gripped my waist, swaying me with him.

The alcohol buzzed through me like a lightning storm, hitting me in flashes along with the laser lights streaming from the DJ above the dance floor. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of the music, the base, the hands, the night. Trey leaned in, his voice barely audible as he spoke over the music and told me he’d be right back, he was grabbing us another drink. I nodded, eyes still closed, my hands lifting above me once Trey wasn’t there to hold onto anymore.

It was surreal, dancing in the middle of a crowded club in Las Vegas, the music vibrating through every vein as I moved in time with the rhythm. A week ago, I was just a little girl in Mobile, Alabama, serving pancakes to the same people I had since I was sixteen. Now, I was a vixen, sexy and confident, wearing a dress that showed my most sensitive scar.

And it was the last thing on my mind.

Trey’s hands slid around my waist from behind and he pulled me back into him, his hips matching my rhythm as he molded himself to me again. His abs were hard against my back, and I arched into him, running my hands through my hair and pulling it all to one side to cool my neck. But when he ran his nose along the skin I’d just exposed before sucking my earlobe between his teeth, my eyes shot open.

Because I knew then that it wasn’t Trey at all.

“Emery.”

I breathed his name like a curse, and his hands squeezed my hips in affirmation as he rocked against me from behind. My eyes fluttered shut again at the rush from his touch, my knees suddenly weak, and I leaned into him, letting him take my weight. His hands were everywhere — wrapping around to grab my own, fingers laced between mine before he dragged them up my ribs, under the wire frame of my bra, and then they were on a hot trail back down to my waist.

My lips parted as he picked up our pace and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes still closed as he kissed along my neck. Every part of our bodies was sewn together, and his heart beat hard and steady through the fabric of his shirt, the bass to the quick, light beat of my own.

Cracking my eyes open, I turned in his arms, staring at his chest. As soon as I lifted my eyes to his, I heard my name.

“What the fuck, man?” Trey shoved Emery away from me, his fresh drinks crashing to the floor with the movement. “I thought she made it pretty clear at the bar that you needed to back off.”

“She’s here with me, asshole,” Emery said, bowing up to Trey.

“Oh, you’re the guy she was supposed to meet here, huh? The one who left her standing heartbroken on the floor when she first got here?”

The color drained from Emery’s face, and his eyes flicked to mine, but Trey stepped even more between us.

“Well, sorry bro, you fucked up, and now she’s with me. So take a walk.”

Emery’s face screwed up, his hands shoving Trey back. “You fucking take a walk,bro.”

Trey went to shove Emery again but I jumped between them, pressing my hands into his chest.

“Stop! It’s fine, Emery was just leaving.”