Chapter Twenty-One
Amy
Tristan popped him in the nose in the most well-deserved punch I had ever witnessed, and my first thought was of April.
My mind kept replaying the way Tristan moved. Sometimes a person just needs a pop in the nose, I guess, because you could see the anger and wretchedness leave Parker Starr like a parasite letting go of its host and vanishing into the shadows.
Parker was right—instead of being all hopped up on adrenaline or shouting something, Tristan was the first to think about protecting him from the press. I knew him well enough to know he didn’t care about any contracts or commissions in that moment.
All that was secondary to how much I wanted Tristan—suddenly, madly, all over again. If we were alone, I would have molested him. I would have torn my way through his shirt to get at him. In my life, I had never had the urge to sink my teeth into a man, and always thought the idea of biting someone during sex was silly, but at that moment I understood. Every one of my senses wanted him.
I managed to keep myself under control as our group followed April. When we all began to dance, I finally got to feel his hands, at least. I managed to guide us toward the back corner of the dance floor and leaned forward to ask him something.
He leaned his head forward toward me so I could speak into his ear. All I really wanted was to be that close, but I had to say something. “Shall I make this room private?”
He thought about it and nodded, but I didn’t let him pull away. He gave me his ear again, and I couldn’t help myself. We were at an angle where nobody could really see, and for just a moment I pressed my hips into him. I felt his hand in the small of my back, his little finger just barely above my ass, and I knew he wanted me too, so I gently took the lobe of his ear in my teeth for an instant, then let him go.
I didn’t need much help clearing the room. Most people had already sensed we were a group. We kept the band, a bartender, and a couple of the waiters and had a few tall tables with high chairs brought it.
The band took a break, and before it could get awkward again, Drake said with perfect timing, “Say, Tristan, remind me not to piss you off.”
Grogan laughed, which made Drake turn to him. “I got in his face last year over my contract. Shit, I didn’t know he was quick like that.”
Parker had the perfect rueful look on his face. “I didn’t even see it coming.”
Drake held up one of his concrete blocks he called a fist and said, “How’d you snap it off like that? Show me?”
Peyton rolled her eyes as he pretended to shadow box, then she leaned over to Lily and muttered something in her ear that made the reporter bark out some laughter before holding her hand to her mouth, embarrassed.
“What?” Drake had mock wounded look on his face, but before Peyton could tell him to mind his own business, Grogan moved closer, peering at Mathison’s fist.
“Holy crap. I thought I had big hands.” He held up a mitt, spread wide. In practically every other circumstance it would have seemed like a giant’s hand, too, but Drake laughed and spread his wide. None of us could believe it. Grogan stood tall, and much wider than Drake, most of it pure slabs of muscle, but his hand looked like a child’s inside the tight end’s.
Then April poked them both on their knees and held up her hands. The two giant NFL football players looked at each other, then like big puppies obeyed the little girl, holding their hands down for her to have a turn. Everyone laughed. If they weren’t so gentle with her, it would have been almost frightening, to see how fragile one human being could be compared to another. Her little fingers looked like intricate porcelain miniature daisies pressed into the smallest areas of their palms.
Her eyes were big and round, when Grogan said, “I’m hungry.”
Drake kept looking at April. “He’s a lineman. I’ve never seen one actually get full.”
She looked back and forth between them. Grogan nodded, it was true. So she pulled on one of his fingers until he leaned down. We could just hear her. “We’ve got lots of food.”
She was right. On the table behind us was a spread, with contributions from every chef, kitchen, and oven on the premises. We all grabbed some food.
It was quiet. The band wasn’t back yet and everyone’s mouth was full. Except Parker’s. He stood up and said, “I just wanted to tell everyone I’m sorry for the way I’ve been behaving. You all mean a lot to me, and you won’t be seeing that again.”
He looked at me, and I knew he meant it. I nodded. Then he looked at Grogan, who shot him a grin.
“Yo, Tristan.” Drake called out to get his attention.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got connections. I can get you a shot in the UFC. Standard commission, but you gotta pay cost for services,” he said.
Everyone laughed. This time Tristan rolled his eyes which just made us all laugh even more.