Chapter Eight

Avalon

“That bored, huh?” I look up from my phone and see a guy towering over me. His dark eyes darting from my phone to my own eyes. His five o’clock shadow perfectly complements his warm, umber skin.

“Do you hockey players own anything other than that hoodie?” I question since it’s the third one I’ve seen tonight. However, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone in the hoodie, and I hoped I’d be the one removing it tonight.

“The hoodie’s not the only piece of clothing I own.” He smirks, pulling the hoodie over his head—

So much for me removing it.

But I can’t even complain because as his hoodie comes off, his shirt comes up, exposing his bare stomach and the tattoos he was covering up. He throws the hoodie on the empty spot next to me on the couch and pulls down his t-shirt.

“I also own this t-shirt,” he continues, and I laugh as I read Rockford Hockey across the t-shirt.

“So, is hockey your whole personality or just a large chunk?” I wonder.

“Hmm, pretty much the whole thing,” he says. “I’d say at least ninety-eight percent.”

He sits beside me and rests against the back of the couch in the same spot where his hoodie lays.

“And the other two percent?”

“Tattoos are part of that two percent… and the other part, I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

“Alright, I’ll bite.”

“Me too, but only if you let me.”

“Ha, does that actually work for you?”

“I don’t know, you tell me dollface.”

It does. It really does, which is absolutely pathetic because how’s a line like that working on me? And dollface? Are you serious? If anyone else called me that, I’d be running in the opposite direction so fast, but something about him, I don’t know, I’m curious. It’s the eyes… it has to be the eyes.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He grins.

I was wrong. It’s the smile. The smile’s what does it.

“I’m Zeke.” He puts out his hand, and I shake it.

“Avalon.”

“Well, Avalon,” he begins, “is our celebration so boring that you resorted to scrolling through your phone?”

“I was actually getting ready to get a cab.”

“Oo, it’s worse than I thought. It’s so boring that you’re already leaving, and the party isn’t even in its prime yet.”

“I guess it’s just not for me.”

“What can we do to change that?” he asks, and I don’t miss the way he moves a little closer as he does.

“I don’t know, what’d you have in mind?”

“Why don’t we start with a drink?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t drink?”

“No.”

“I like that. A girl who doesn’t need a drink to let loose.”

“Maybe I’m just not a girl who lets loose.”

“I don’t buy it.” He leans forward. “We all have something that helps us let loose… escape. From what I can tell, it’s not a party, because if it was, you’d be in the crowd, not watching it. And you don’t drink, so what’s your poison?”

“What’s yours? Booze?”

“Sex.” He stares right at me as he says it. “I like to drink, yes, but the best escape for me is sex.”

I don’t know what it is about this guy, but everything he does and says is sexy. You know those guys who are so confident that they just ooze sexiness? That’s Zeke.

His eyes roam my body, stopping on my lips before looking back at me. He’s not even ashamed that I caught him looking. And I don’t even care that he was. I came here hoping for one thing, I can’t be angry at him for wanting the same thing.

Now, I move closer, shrinking the gap between us even more.

“You know, everyone always told me that guys with earrings were bad news.”

“I only have one,” he whispers, “so I’m only half bad.” He reaches up, cupping my face, as his thumb brushes my lower lip.

His eyes are glued to them. Like he’s not allowed to look anywhere else, and I don’t hate it. What I hate is him not making the move. He’s forward with his words, but we’d already be out of here if he was forward with his actions. He’d already be giving me my first release of the night, but instead, we’re sitting on a couch watching each other.

“Are you gonna make a move, or will I have to find my escape elsewhere tonight?” I question, and he pulls me into him with a large smile. My lips melt into his, a shiver dancing down my spine as his hand leaves my face and finds my waist, pulling me on top of him.

I’m usually not one for PDA, but for some reason, with him, I don’t seem to care. I care even less when his tongue enters the equation. His tongue dances around my mouth with my own, and I have to fight the moan traveling up my throat so I don’t release the breathy sound in a room full of people.

Zeke doesn’t seem to care as much as I do about the people surrounding us. He grinds my body against him, allowing me to feel just how much he wants this. He’s just fully hard in the middle of a crowded party and doesn’t give a single fuck. And with the heat traveling to my core, I know in a few minutes I won’t care either. I’d probably give in to fucking him right on this couch if we aren’t out of here soon.

“We should get out of here,” I mumble against his lips.

“Upstairs.” His lips leave mine and meet my neck.

“Bedrooms are off-limits.” I feel his lips vibrate against my neck with a laugh. I lean back and look at him. “What?”

“They’re off-limits for guests. I live here. The bedroom we’re going to is mine.”

“You live here?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d it take you so long to suggest going upstairs?” I ask. “I was this close to sleeping with you right here.”

“That would’ve definitely made the party a little more exciting.” He stands up, my legs still wrapped around his waist. My feet find the floor, but his hands don’t leave my waist.

“Lead the way.”