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He gestures his thumb toward his friends. “I’ll be at the table.”
I rush out, suddenly needing to put distance between us. Turning, I stumble on my heels and smack into a wall. A warm…hard…breathing wall.
My gaze slowly travels up, following the buttons on a crisp black dress shirt and pausing where he’s left a few open, revealing a hint of his olive-toned chest and intricate black lines of a tattoo impossible to make out.
I touch the tip of my tongue to my top lip and lift onto my toes to get a better look.
Damon drops his mouth to my ear, his breath fanning over me. “Eyes up here, Nymph.”
Goose bumps explode in the wake of the shivers traveling down my neck.
Narrowed, hooded gray eyes meet mine. He looks pissed. “How did you get here?”
“Uber.” Hic. “Snuck out the side exit.” Hic. “Please don’t blame Nicholas.”
Damon searches my face for a moment before groaning, “Fuck,” under his breath. “We’re going.”
“Hey, Mr. Everette. She’s with me,” Carter says.
“Uh-oh. Not a good idea.” I whisper it like a secret.
Damon’s fingers twitch where they’re wrapped around the curve of my hip.
“Is that right?” Damon looks at me. “Are you with him?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. It’s more of a warning than a question.
I reach up and brush my fingers over it. His skin is hot and rough with evening scruff. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the sharp cut of his cheekbone. He’s hard and soft, warm and cold, every opposite smashed together, and suddenly, all I want is to figure him out.
He reaches down, bands his arm right below my butt, and lifts me over his shoulder, snapping me out of my daze.
“Put me down!” I squeal and try to pinch his back. He shuffles me higher, shoulder landing into my stomach.
“I hope I puke on you,” I groan.
He vibrates beneath me. If he was anyone else, I’d think he was laughing.
“Man…I mean Mr. Everette. I can take her home. She came here with me,” Carter protests.
“And now she’s with me. She needs to sober up. We have things to go over,” Damon says firmly.
Things?
Damon turns us and moves effortlessly through the crowd of dancing, seemingly unaffected by my weight.
I wave at Carter and mouth, “Sorry.”
He’s just standing there, mouth open, gaping at me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow!” I shout it over the music, but I’m cut off with a crisp smack against my ass.
“Ow!” I whine, even as heat pools between my legs. My panties should not be getting wet over him. “You can’t do that!”
“Don’t move.” He squeezes my ass, the sting changing to a tingling ache, sending shock waves to my clit.
I squirm, and my thighs rub together, searching for friction. If I didn’t need a release before, I do now. I twist to see where we’re going, giving up on being embarrassed. I’ll leave that for tomorrow.
Damon stops to speak to a huge guy with one of those TV spy earpieces in.
