My heart sinks when I see the black heels with red-soles floating on the other side of the pool.

“You asshole.” I swim over to them. “These are Louboutins!”

“Lou—what?” His face twists. “Who even are you right now?”

One by one, I throw them at him. “These are my aunt’s, you idiot. She lent them to me tonight and now they’re ruined.”

He doesn’t look at all concerned. “They’re shoes. If she’s upset, buy her another pair.”

I want to scream because he doesn’t get it. “They’re eight-hundred-dollar shoes. It will take me at least six weeks to earn the money at Top of the Muffin. I was trying to save for a car.” Frustration jams in my throat and I slap the water. “Not everyone is rich like you.”

Hell, even before my dad landed in the slammer we didn’t come close to having the kind of money Jace’s family does.

For the briefest of moments, sympathy flickers in his eyes, before they harden. “I’ll be in the guest house.” He starts walking down the short pathway leading to the stone and brick cottage. “Feel free to continue your late-night swim.”

“Jace?” I bat my eyelashes as he turns. “Would you mind helping me out?”

He smirks. “So you can pull me in? No thanks.”

Dammit. That’s exactly what I was gonna do.

With a sigh, I swim to the deep end and climb up the ladder.

A glimmer of satisfaction runs through me when his eyelids lower and I see his Adam’s apple bob.

It’s the first week of November so it’s chilly at night. Considering I didn’t wear a bra with my dress, I’m sure he’s getting quite a show.

Straightening my spine, I stick out my chest and walk past him. “Enjoying the view?”

The muscles in his back ripple before he blows out a breath and meets me at the guest house.

He avoids eye contact as he unlocks the door and walks inside.

It still looks the same as I remember, with a few minor upgrades.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Jace mumbles before he disappears into the one and only bedroom.

I wander through the tiny living room until I end up in the kitchen which shares the same open space.

Given Jace ended my party early, he owes me a good time.

Unfortunately, the only thing I find is a half empty bottle of wine and a few beers.

“The beers are Cole’s,” Jace says behind me. “And they suck.”

I opt for the wine bottle instead. “Is this safe?”

“No idea. Some girl brought it over the other night.”

My stomach coils. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might be hooking up with someone else after Britney.

After me.

“So are the rumors true?” I open the cabinet and fish out a wine glass. “Is Britney really dating Cole?”

He walks over to the couch and sits. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

I ponder this as I take a long sip. “It doesn’t bother you? He’s your brother and she’s your…whatever.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

I have no idea what just transpired, but judging by the death glare he’s aiming my way, clearly Britney is a trigger for him.

“Sorry, I won’t bring her up again.” I take another sip of my wine and I realize how heartless that was. He might not want her, but there’s no way it doesn’t sting. “For what it’s worth, you can do so much better than her.”

He stares at me for what feels like forever before he speaks. “I can’t decide if you’re actually being serious, or if you’re just a really good actress who’s nailed her role.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

I’m honestly offended he thinks I’d ever fake anything around him.

“Nothing.” He reaches for the television remote. “Forget it.”

I finish what’s in my glass and refill it. I’m starting to get that relaxed and buzzy feeling again which is exactly what I wanted.

“Why did you bring me here, Jace?”

He doesn’t answer. Shocker.

I’m almost positive I know, but I want the confirmation.

No. More than want. I need it.

And something tells me there’s only one way to get it.

I take one more sip of wine for courage, then saunter over to the couch stopping when I’m in front of him.

He’s watching some boring video game thing, but I pluck the remote from his hand and turn it off.

He glowers. “Do you mind?”

“I do actually.” I sharpen my gaze. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“I was at a party…on my birthday.”

Oakley was watching out for me. Cole too, for that matter.

There was no reason for Jace to interfere…and definitely not a good enough one for him to drag me out and bring me here.

Unless he was jealous.

And he wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t have feelings for me.

Feelings he refuses to acknowledge.

“You never brought me a towel,” I remind him coyly.

He starts to get up, but I straddle his lap and press my body to his, saturating his clothes. “Guess I don’t need one anymore.”

His hands find my hips. “What are you doing?”

“They wanted to take me upstairs.” Easing back slightly, I look at him. “Both of them.”

His eyes darken. “They wanted to run a train on you.”

“I thought it took four or more guys to run a train?” I give him a sultry smile. “Then again, maybe they were planning on inviting their friends…that could have been fun.”

“Dylan,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips.

I lick my bottom lip suggestively. “They promised they’d take good care of me.”

He snorts. “If you believed them, I have a bridge to sell you.”

I trail my lips along the shell of his ear. “I wonder if they would have eaten my pussy as good as you did that night?”

I feel him thicken in his jeans and his eyes become tiny slits.

I kiss a path along his jawline before going in for the kill. “I dare you to make me forget all about them.”

He makes a rough growly noise in the back of his throat as he closes the distance between us. His kiss is half desperate, half ravenous—like he’ll never get enough.

And then he’s pulling away. “I don’t fuck drunk girls.”

“I’m buzzed. Big difference.”

He holds my stare. “Not to me.”

“I can walk a straight line if you want.”

“Whatever gets you the fuck off my lap.”

Narrowing my eyes, I rock against his dick. If the heavy outline pulsing under his jeans is anything to go by, I’d say he wants me just as much as I want him.

Our breaths mingle as we stare at one another.

“I’m pretty sure you like me on your lap.”

Nerves prickle along my skin when he pivots his hips, grinding against a spot that has my heart racing.

Closing his eyes, he whispers, “I told you, I don’t mess around with drunk chicks.”

I hate the way he’s sticking me in a generalized box. As if I’m just another girl looking to screw that he has to turn down.