Braydon’s knees brushed mine and I couldn’t help but notice the dark wanting in his deep blue gaze. It made my skin tingle.
“I should go look for my friends.” My voice had gone all husky and low and I cleared my throat. “Thank you for the beer.”
Braydon lifted my hand from my side and pressed it to his lips. “Anytime, jellybean.” His playful words, the glint in his eyes, and the soft press of his lips against my skin sent a zip of heat rushing through my core.
I swallowed roughly, my eyes lingering on his. When I finally moved away, it was on shaky legs.
Crossing the room, I headed straight into the more dimly lit VIP lounge area. Mirrored walls and spinning disco balls threw off little flecks of color that bounced across the room. The effect was disorienting.
I spotted Ben on the far end of the room seated with a group of guys and girls on one of the white leather sofas. He hadn’t yet noticed me, and when I got closer I spotted thin lines of white powder drawn on the table in front of them. While Ben and I had never discussed drug use, I had assumed he didn’t use. Now I wasn’t so sure.
He held a glass of amber-colored liquor and his eyes were a bit glazed. Panic gripped me, my stomach dropping to my feet. Maybe I didn’t know him at all. When his eyes met mine, recognition crossed his features. He sat up straighter in his seat, pulling away slightly from the waiflike girl tucked in by his side.
“Emmy.” He reached a hand toward me and I took it, easing in between him and the model beside him. I didn’t know her name but her face was familiar. I was pretty sure I’d seen her in the Prada show earlier. Rather than squeezing myself between them, I remained standing, wedged between the sofa and low coffee table near Ben’s knees. He looked up at me, his smile somewhat somber.
Suddenly I didn’t want to be there. I wasn’t part of that scene. Drugs weren’t okay with me, and sitting back and enjoying a drink felt like I’d be condoning the cocaine use going on around us. And I certainly didn’t. Call me stuck up, prudish, whatever you want, but going back to my room and taking a bubble bath sounded a lot more appealing than hanging out with these people.
“I think I’m going to go.”
Ben rose, unsteady on his feet. “Then I’ll take you back.”
I gripped his bicep, keeping him steady. It looked like I’d be the one taking him back. I’d never seen him this drunk. And something in me didn’t like it. I worried for him. How much had he drank, and should he be drinking so heavily on his medications? I helped him maneuver from where we stood in the space between the table and sofa.
As we made our way through the center of the room, I looped an arm around his waist to keep him walking on a straight path. I’d never seen him so smashed, and I couldn’t say I was a fan. I knew from experience there was nothing fun about taking care of someone drunk, and likely to be sick later.
Yay, me.
Ben staggered toward the door, clutching a hand around my hip. “Thanks, baby.”
I was willing to guess he hadn’t eaten a thing all day. I swear, no one fed these models. At least I hoped that was all this was—too much alcohol on an empty stomach. I fought to keep us both heading in the right direction, keeping my hold on Ben, my handbag and trying to balance on my stiletto heels. I felt a large hand close around my elbow.
“I’ve got him.” The familiar deep voice from earlier—Braydon—said from behind me.
I released my hold on Ben and allowed him to step between us. He tossed one arm under Ben’s shoulder, easily guiding him to the elevator.
I trailed behind them, slightly embarrassed.
“Too much to drink, buddy?” Braydon asked him once we were all inside the elevator.
Ben gave a nod, recognition flashing in his eyes as he appraised the man standing before him. “Bray.”
Braydon stepped closer, pulling me inside the doors while keeping his hold on Ben.
Braydon’s hand remained glued to my hip, holding me near him. The heat from his hand simmered up my side, pushing my nipples against the lace of my bra. My body was curious about him, even if my mind was wrapped up with Ben.
“You gonna share this one with me?” Braydon asked Ben, his eyes still on mine.
Ben shoved an uncoordinated hand into Braydon’s shoulder. “No, asshole.” His voice was flat, not amused.
Had they shared women before? And why was this information like a shot of adrenaline to my system? These two beautiful men worshipping the same woman? Holy shit. I felt weak.
I bent down to adjust the strap of my sandal digging into my ankle. Keeping one hand on Ben’s shoulder to steady him, Braydon reached for me, relieving me of the handbag that dangled awkwardly from my arm. He slipped the strap over his wrist and winked at me. “Let me help.”
I met his kind eyes and smiled, seemingly at a loss for words around this tall, fair-haired, gorgeous man. A man who currently had a pink wristlet dangling from his thick forearm.
“Which hotel are you guys at?”
I gave him the name, still wondering how he knew Ben and why he was being so nice to me.
“I’ll get a car.”
I’d taken the Metro here but figured trying to get a drunk Ben on and off the subway wasn’t an adventure I particularly wanted to experience right now. Or ever. Not to mention he didn’t need paparazzi. We wouldn’t want someone to realize who he was and start snapping pictures—especially given that Paris was crawling with photographers during Fashion Week.
I sat in the back of the car, wedged between the two men. Ben took my hand and held it in his lap. He leaned his head back against the seat rest and mumbled apologies to me.
“Braydon?”
“Hmm?”
I was too aware of his body heat next to mine, his leg occasionally bumping my thigh. “You don’t think he . . . took something, do you?”
“Drugs? Nah. Ben doesn’t touch that shit. Never has.”
I wasn’t sure how Braydon knew that, or the extent of their relationship, but his confidence set my mind at ease.
When we reached the hotel, I woke Ben and he seemed to have sobered up a bit on the twenty-minute ride back. Once inside the room, he fell heavily onto the bed, leaving Braydon and me standing awkwardly at the foot of the mattress, staring at each other.
“Emmy, come here . . .” Ben pulled me down onto the bed with him and nuzzled into my neck, breathing in the scent of my hair. His hand moved from my waist down to my behind, cupping my bottom and giving it a gentle squeeze.
He turned to address Braydon. “Thanks for the lift, but time to go, Bray.”
Braydon chuckled softly. “I don’t think so, man. It’s called whiskey dick. You’re not getting any tonight. Besides, you wouldn’t be much use to her.” Braydon’s navy-blue gaze met mine and I shuddered.
Ben’s grip on me tightened. “I always make Emmy come.”
Gah! “Okay, story time’s over.” I excused myself from Ben’s grasp as my cheeks heated. Apparently Ben needed a muzzle when he was drunk. I crossed the room and grabbed the phone. “I think I’ll order some room service. See if giving him something to eat helps.” I looked at Braydon. “Would you like something?”