He punched a button, calling the elevator, and then looked at me. His mouth lifted in a half smile that was familiar because I saw it almost daily on his brother. It almost put me at ease until I recalled that he wasn’t Reece. He wasn’t that safe, disarming guy who was head over heels in love with my best friend. This guy was wicked and immoral and trouble with a capital T.
He released my hand, waving me inside the elevator. I finally found my voice as he pulled the sliding door shut after us. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, I swallowed a breath and willed the heat to cool from my face. “Well, wasn’t that very caveman of you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to make out with Bubba back there on that pool table in front of all those people?” He jerked a thumb behind him. “ ’Cause I can let you go back in there if that’s what you want. You just looked a little green. I thought you were going to puke.”
“I wasn’t going to throw up. And you don’t need to escort me. Hate to drag you away from the fun you were having, after all. Looks like your girlfriend Rachel might be missing you.” Or any number of females inside that loft.
“She’s just a friend,” he replied casually, thankfully not picking up on my catty tone. But I did. I heard it and I mentally kicked myself for it.
And yet I kept talking . . . still sounding like a judgy little shrew. “Somehow I doubt that you and any girl are just friends.” I knew his reputation well enough to conclude that. And I’d just seen Logan Mulvaney give the performance of the century on that pool table to back it up.
I crossed my arms as the elevator began its descent.
He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking my pose. “I’ve known Rachel since seventh grade.”
“Aw. And you hang out at a kink club together now. How sweet for y’all.” I opened my mouth to ask if he knew those other girls on the pool table, too, but managed to stop myself.
He smiled, shaking his head. “You’re funny, G. Never noticed that about you before.”
But he had noticed me. A stupid little thrill coursed through me.
He continued, “I’m guessing Anna brought you.”
“You mean Annie?”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter that he couldn’t get the name right of a girl he had made out with once upon a time.
“I came with Annie but drove my own car.”
“Good. You can drive yourself home then. She likes to stay late at these things.”
Of course he would know that. Apparently he was a kink club regular.
The elevator settled to a stop and he slid the door open, asking, “What is it with you guys? First, Emerson, and now you’re here.”
I bristled as I stepped out. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Emerson. This place is over your head. Hopefully, like her, you’ll have enough sense to never come back here again.”
This annoyed me. Maybe because I always prided myself on being so mature. I reveled when adults would tell my mother how composed and sensible and grown-up I was. It had always been a point of pride—for both Mom and me. But here he was treating me like a kid. And I was older than him!
Over my head.
You have marriage written all over your face.
Boring.
We stepped out onto the empty porch of the building. Empty because why hang out here when there was privacy inside to do all kinds of wild and wicked things? The type of things one did at a kink club. Things I had yet to learn about. Thanks to him.