Wicked Devil: Chapter 10

I’m going to murder my best friend for getting me into this. Allie and Henderson are kicking our asses. They’re two cups away from handing me my ass and a fucking bikini is not going to be enough to cover it.

Allie’s eyes are glassy. The booze is hitting her hard, but with a grin on her face she raises her hand, shoots, and lands the damn thing in my cup.

Fuck.

She jumps up and down, her tits bouncing with the motion, and Henderson high-fives her.

Emilio grabs the cup. Downs it in one swallow and then takes aim.

The fucker misses and I bite back a groan.

Shit.

“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him, low enough that only he should hear but I don’t miss Dominique’s dark chuckles behind us. He’s enjoying this shit. He’s probably hoping we lose, too.

“Nah, man. You won’t,” Emilio tells me. “Because I’m helping a brother out by putting you front and center for her. You might hate losing but you want that girl’s attention.”

“No. I don’t,” I mutter. “She’s no one to me.”

Emilio ignores my comment and now it’s Henderson’s shot. He takes aim for the last cup on our side and at the last second, his eyes flick up to mine and I stare him down. He falters and I let a murderous grin wash over my face. My vision tunnels and all I can see is him. His green eyes darken and I know his surroundings are fading away from him. The crowd around us cheers him on.

“Shoot.”

“Shoot.”

“Shoot.”

I narrow my eyes further. His jaw tightens and he shoots but the fucker isn’t looking at the cups. He’s still looking at me like he’s two seconds away from pissing himself.

He misses.

I grin and blink, breaking the stare off between us and he curses.

That’s right, fucker.

It’s my turn so I grab the ball and without any fanfare, I shoot it into one of their three remaining cups. Henderson swears again, downs the cup, and hands the ball to Allie.

She smirks at me, completely in her element, and lands the ball in our final cup. Emilio moans beside me but I know it’s all for show. He couldn’t care less whether we win or lose. It’s all a game for him. He lives for this kind of shit even if he tries to claim otherwise.

Slowly, making sure to keep my eyes locked on hers, I lift the cup and down the remaining beer.

“You lose,” she says and her satisfaction is clear.

“I did. Guess you better go grab me that bikini of yours,” I tell her.

“Mine?”

I nod and suck in my bottom lip with a nod. “Yeah, vanilla. I want yours.”

“You can have mine,” one of the chicks beside me says.

I lift a brow. “And you are?”

She looks surprised I don’t know who she is, but why would I?

“Silvia. Silvia Parish. I have second period with her.” She reminds me, angling her head toward Allie. Recognition clicks back to when I told her to watch out for my girl. Guess I do know her name after all.

I shrug. “Well, Silvia Parish,” I say, “Thanks. But no thanks. I want Allie’s. Only hers will do.”

Silvia pouts and Allie rolls her eyes. Her annoyance is sexy as hell. “Whatever. Andale pues.”

I don’t think she realizes she told me to hurry up in Spanish, but I like it. I like that it rolls off her tongue like it’s natural. It probably is. And I really fucking like that Henderson has no idea what the fuck she just said. It wasn’t anything sexy. There was no hidden meaning there. But he doesn’t know that.

I make sure to shoulder check him as I shove past to follow Allie.

“Watch it, Henderson,” I say so low only he can hear. “I wouldn’t get in my way.”

His jaw locks and I wait, making sure he gets my meaning.

It takes longer than I like, but eventually, he nods. Good.

I follow Allie through the crowd of people, shoving against bodies when they get too close. This is why we don’t open up our cabin. I don’t like people in my space.

She leads me back to a bedroom and as soon as I step inside the dimly lit room, I shut the door. I exhale in relief and Allie laughs. “Not one for crowds?” she asks.

“Not one for idiots,” I retort.

She smiles and digs through a bag until she retrieves a black two-piece swimsuit. The bottoms are taller, like they’d go past her hips, and the top is a thick band that ties in the back. Hmmm. Interesting. “No slutty string bikini?”

She shakes her head. “Not really my style.” She holds her hands out, but before I accept it, I pull off my shirt and let the fabric fall to the floor before unbuckling my jeans.

She sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”

I can’t help my grin at her freaked-out tone. When I look up and see her eyes locked on my abs, heat simmers in my chest and my dick twitches. Her gaze rolls over me with blatant interest and my smile widens. I shove my jeans down, leaving my black boxer briefs on and then step out of the jeans, discarding my socks and shoes along with them.

“Like what you see?” I ask, holding my hands out wide with a cocky smirk on my face. I know I look good. Her expression confirms in.

A delicate hand reaches out as if to touch my tattoos and I wait, eager to feel her hands on me though I can’t explain why. What is it about this girl that draws me to her?

Hands pressed together in prayer are inked on my right side, a strand of rosary beads between their fingers. My right arm sports a half sleeve filled with an intricate Aztec falcon totem. And on my left collarbone, climbing up my neck and down over the top of my bicep and pectoral, is an Aztec devil mask.

My gaze heats as I watch her eyes drink me in but instead of trailing her fingers over the designs, she hovers over the left side of my rib cage. She has her bottom lip trapped between her teeth and a hint of concern flickers across her face. Concern for me? I’m surprised when I spot the emotion.

I look down and realize her eyes are glued to a purplish yellow bruise that’s formed across my left side.

I remember the hit I took in the fourth quarter. I’d been running for a touchdown and the guy had come out of nowhere, tackling me in the end zone even though I’d already dropped the ball. Ref threw a flag but it didn’t matter. The game was over by then.

Her fingers brush over the damaged skin and she whispers, “Does it hurt?”

I bite back the groan I want to release at her featherlight touch. “Nah. It looks worse than it is.”

She steps back and her eyes widen, as though realizing that she’d just been intimately close. A pretty blush spreads across her cheeks. I step closer to her before she can retreat further, and I wrap my hand around her delicate wrist. “You gonna give me the suit?” I ask.

She’s maybe five-two to my six-one. A tiny little thing so she’s forced to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. All it would take is me dipping my head a few inches to catch her lips with my own, but I don’t. Her eyes glaze over as she stares back at me. She licks her lips and I trail the movement.

“Ww…What?”

I quirk a brow. “The suit,” I say again, tugging on the material that’s clutched in her hands.

“Oh. Oh!” She drops the fabric like it’s hot to the touch and steps back, her face even redder than it had been before. Taking the swimsuit, I stretch the top over my chest, the fabric barely able to tie in the back over my broad chest. Then I hold up the bottoms and meet her gaze. “I’m not sure these will fit over my legs, but if you want me to try, I will. Or…” I trail off and wait.

She swallows hard, licking her lips again. “Or what?”

I toss her swim bottoms back to her. “Or I can go like this. My boxer briefs don’t cover much more than those would.” I point to the swim bottoms. “More leg but less abs.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “It’s your call.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”