Knockout: Tapped Out Book 4

by Quinn, Cari

  Though I didn’t look her way, I saw Lily fidget out of the corner of my eye. Anything bordering on naughty language always made her nervous. I don’t think she minded it so much as she wasn’t used to it. From what I could tell, her big cop daddy and Emerson kept her on a damn short leash.

  That needed to change. Tonight, I hoped.

  Emerson took a defiant gulp, then held the glass stein at arm’s length. “Shit, that’s not bad. Holy strong, though.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I smiled around the lip of my glass. “Twenty-seven percent alcohol. Banned in thirteen states for too high a content for beer.” I finished off my glass in another handful of sips and reached for the bottle. “More?” I asked them, noticing they were both putting serious dents in their own glasses.

  “Lily isn’t twenty-one,” Emerson reminded me.

  “I know. She’s also not on her daddy’s watch right now, so let her breathe, huh?” I glanced at her and noticed the color already rising in her cheeks. With her size and lack of tolerance, she’d be buzzing soon if she wasn’t already. “More?”

  “I’m not driving, so sure.” She cast a glance toward me and held out her glass.

  “You can sleep over,” I said quickly when Emerson didn’t reply, just continued staring into the scant inch of brown liquid left in his glass. “There’s a guest bedroom,” I added as his head snapped up.

  I sincerely hoped they’d be in my king bed by the end of the night, but I knew there would be many steps to reach that point. Possibly more than could be covered in a single night.

  I’d always been an optimistic fucker.

  “I have to work in the morning.”

  Nodding, I smiled at Lily and filled her glass. “How about you?”

  “She’s not sleeping here.” Emerson answered so fast for her that Lily frowned and whipped her head in his direction.

  “Hello, I can speak for myself.” Her throat bobbed. “I’m not sleeping here, but thank you.”

  I chuckled and set down the bottle of fancy-ass beer. My own glass was clutched in my white-knuckled grip. I might be optimistic, but I also knew the uphill climb I faced in getting these two to lower their inhibitions. We’d all been friends long enough for that to be clear. Emerson didn’t think we were, and he tried to tell himself he only hung out with me to keep Lily company. And to, you know, watch her and make sure her hand didn’t sneak toward my dick or something.

  The truth was, he watched me too. And I liked it.

  There was a vibe between the three of us. I wasn’t sure how it would translate between the sheets, but I damn sure intended to find out.

  So…alcohol. And parties for three. And a party game or two meant to be an icebreaker that would hopefully lead to the loss of clothes.

  First, I’d ease them in.

  “What about a tour?” I set down my empty drink and scrubbed my palms on my jeans. Yeah, I was nervous. No matter how easygoing I seemed, I wasn’t unaffected by possible rejection. Especially possible rejection by two of my closest friends. Lily was closer than Emerson, of course, but that was the asshole’s own fault. He wouldn’t let me in. Didn’t want me to spin too far into his sphere.

  I figured that was because he wanted me there too much. So I’d be testing that theory soon.

  “Sure.” Lily stepped aside to give me room to pass her and I waved them both forward.

  “Step into my lair.” I glanced around. “Eh well, you’re already in it, so come deeper into my lair.”

  Lily let out a hiccupping giggle and I smiled, leading the way toward the small formal dining room. It was probably cheating to load her up with drinks, especially stuff with such a high alcohol content. But I wouldn’t let her get far enough gone to lose her faculties. I just wanted that first layer or two of apprehension to dissolve.

  It wasn’t like Emerson would let anything go too far if he wasn’t sure she was on-board, anyway. Hell, I wasn’t sure he would let it even if she was. That might shut things down even quicker.

  “Dining room.” I gestured to the scarred dining table. “One of my first projects. This was my grandparents’ table. It’s been in storage for years.”

  “Wow, look at this.” Lily caressed the wood, her small red-tipped fingers tracing welts and wounds. “You’re going to make this gorgeous.”

  I nodded. I would. But her faith in me made me swallow hard as we continued on to the kitchen. “You probably recognize this room.”

  “Barely. Fridge and stove and empty cabinets.” Emerson shook his head and popped open the fridge door. “Yeah, there’s Coors in here, but not much else.” He held up a half-eaten package of bologna. “Where’s the bread?”

  “Carbs are bad.” I grinned and patted my stomach, well aware that the black shirt I’d put on tonight was tight as fuck. I was proud of my body. Probably too proud in Emerson’s eyes. He didn’t like the way I stripped down in front of Lily. Not that he’d ever said as much, but he was about as hard to read as an eye chart.

  “Uh-huh.” Lily thumped my arm. “Does that include the Cool Ranch Doritos I saw you eating like a fiend last week?”

  “I know not of whence ye speaks.” I blinked innocently and headed down the hallway, stopping at the first door. I nudged it open with my sneaker. “Standard bathroom, with non-standard two-person whirlpool tub.”

  If my voice lowered a bit on the last part, who could blame me? It just so happened I’d thought of both of them naked more than a few times.

  I’d had a threesome once before, years ago, during that summer between high school and college. There had been two guys and a girl, and that had been the first time I’d made out with a guy. Turned out I enjoyed it. A lot.

  The girl, however, had not been down with it in any shape or form. She’d split before we’d gotten more than her top off, and then the guy and I had…finished things off all on our own. So I guess it wasn’t a real threesome, but an aborted one.

  This one—if it happened—would be different. Somehow I just knew it.

  “Wow, pretty sweet.” Lily slipped past me into the bathroom, her curves brushing against my interested dick. Not hard yet, because I wasn’t that easily stimulated. Let’s just say it wouldn’t take much to give me a semi though, not with that snug black dress hugging her ass and tits. Both her ass and her chest were damn fine.

  She bent to run her fingertips over the scalloped edge of the shelf beside the tub. She was a toucher, that one. “This would be perfect for candles.” She tossed a grin over her shoulder. “You know, O’Connor, when you want to set a mood.”

  I only smiled. Oh, I knew all about moods. She’d be finding that out soon enough.

  We walked down the hall to the pair of bedrooms. “Standard bedrooms,” I said, pointing out one then the other. “Please notice the awesome acoustics.”

  I walked into the master bedroom and hit a couple switches and music filled the room—and the apartment. I’d settled on rock, though I knew Lily liked pop and Emerson liked hip hop. But again, mood, and these dueling guitars from Oblivion were dirty as hell.

  “Nice.” Emerson glanced around, thumbs tucked in his belt loops. Since I hadn’t even expected that much from Mr. Silent, it felt like high praise.

  “Damn, look at this bed.” Lily bounded forward and bounced on my California King, her grin a mile wide. “This is for some serious sleeping.”

  Or serious fucking.

  “I take my rest very seriously,” I said solemnly before waving for them to follow me across the hall. “You’ll notice the guest room has a bed big enough for two.”

  Deliberately, I glanced back at Lily, expecting her to be flushing and fretting. But the alcohol must’ve been doing its job, because she only chewed on her lower lip and slid Emerson a look under her lashes. “Not sure Em would be interested in sharing a bed with me.”

  Emerson turned and walked out.

  Okay then. This night was proceeding just about as I’d expected so far.

  She sighed and rotated her glass between her palm
s. “Sorry, he’s being…”

  “Him?”

  She laughed softly. “Yeah. But he’s in even more of a weird mood tonight, because of something that happened on the way over here. Or almost happened.” She blew out a breath. “Jeez, nothing actually occurred, but he kind of clammed up even worse after and now I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

  I leaned against the side of the bed and tried not to seem terribly interested. Lily was more open than Emerson, that was for sure, but when it came to him, she could vault up with the best of ’em. “What happened?”

  She tipped back her head and stared at the ceiling. “I kissed him.”

  Only self-control kept me from doing a fist pump. “Huh. Wow. So how was it?”

  “It wasn’t.” Another sigh. “I kissed his cheek because he won his fight. And I kind of moved too close to his mouth, and then I think he might’ve kissed me back, but I’m not even sure. So…drinking.” She held up her glass. “Speaking of, I think it’s time you hit me again.”

  “You know, I didn’t bring you here to get you drunk.” Well, not exactly. I looped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head.

  Her and me, we kissed all the time. Not on the mouth, of course, but cheeks, top of the head, the occasional forehead—all fair game.

  “I’m not drunk, I don’t think. How can I tell?”

  “Are you having trouble walking yet?”

  She frowned down at her feet as I guided her out of the room and up the hall. “No. I’m a little fluttery though, in here.” She touched her stomach and her lips curved. “I like it.”

  “Flutters are good.” I kissed her again, closer to her ear this time, and she grinned and cuddled into my side.

  If we hadn’t happened to be walking into the living room at that moment—where Emerson was pacing a hole in the carpet I didn’t have—it would’ve been no big deal.

  His death glare ended that possibility.

  “Lily, I think we should go.”

  “What? Why?” She stumbled a bit over her feet, proving herself a liar. Or else she was nervous. I could see why. Emerson had a rather intimidating stare when he turned it on.

  Lucky me, I got to see it on the regular.

  “This isn’t a party. I don’t know what it is. And you’re drinking, and your father—”

  “My father isn’t here, so stop it. Christ, I’m twenty years old. Twenty-one this summer.” She slammed her glass on one of the steps of the ladder she’d stopped beside. “I have needs.”

  I raised a brow. Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t have to pull out the rest of my bag of tricks. It looked like Ms. Matthews could drive that bus all by herself.

  “Do tell.” I made a gimme gesture with my fingers. “This sounds good.”

  “Shut up.” Emerson glanced at Lily and crossed his arms over his stupidly buff chest. The guy lived in the gym and it showed. Pity he didn’t like showing off his body as much as I did.

  “Whatever your…needs are, we’ll discuss them when you’re sober. I can’t bring you home drunk. What will your dad say?”

  “I’m not drunk. Jesus.” She grabbed her glass and walked over to the coffee table, the heels of her ankle boots clicking on the hardwood floor. She grabbed the bottle of Samuel Adams, then fumbled off the cap. “But I’m going to be, and you’re not gonna stop me. You’re my friend, Hands, not my damn babysitter.”

  “Hey there, let me help you with that.” I moved forward to pour her another glass before she dribbled the stuff all over the table. “One-fifty a bottle, babe.”

  “No shit?” She took an eager sip after I handed the glass back to her. “No wonder it’s so good.”

  “Yeah, well, fancy alcohol doesn’t get you any drunker than cheap shit.”

  I tipped some more into my own glass. “Twenty-seven percent alcohol, remember? So I beg to differ.”

  “Whatever. I have work tomorrow and this isn’t what I was expecting. So you’ll excuse me if I’m not in a fucking party mood.”

  I kicked back on the couch opposite him and slowly spread my legs. The move hadn’t been intentional, but I didn’t miss the way he checked out my package before turning his glare back on Lily.

  The bastard was probably harder than rock right now.

  “So go. I’m perfectly capable of driving Lily home myself. Or she can spend the night.” I licked up a drop of beer that had splashed on my thumb. His gaze tracked the movement. “In my bed or the guest room. Her choice.”

  Four

  I forgot how to breathe.

  He didn’t mean what it sounded like. I was almost sure.

  But if he did…

  I swayed against the arm of the couch across from him, putting out a hand to hold back Emerson when he would’ve stepped forward to throw down his cape. I wasn’t looking for chivalry tonight.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to go too far to find something else.

  “Hold it right there.” I held out my hand and Emerson stopped in his tracks. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You almost fell over.”

  “Yeah, I did. You know why?” I pushed my hair out of my face. I was getting hotter and hotter by the minute, and I didn’t think it was all to do with the alcohol. “I never thought I’d get a chance at something I’ve wanted for a long time, and I guess it’s fucking with my head a little.”

  Emerson crossed his arms again, one of his most common stances lately. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark blue and narrowed. I didn’t like making him worry, but sometimes I had to push back against his and my father’s iron control or it threatened to strangle me.

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

  I debated what to do next for about twenty seconds. Because the truth was, I wanted a couple of things with equal intensity.

  Emerson.

  JC.

  Emerson and JC together, which scandalized the hell out of me even in my most secret fantasies, but there it was.

  I took another bolstering gulp of my beer and set down my glass. Then I crossed to the couch where JC was sprawled and stared down at him, nerves and anticipation and excitement firing in my blood. Even if he’d meant I could sleep in his bed like a buddy, I didn’t care. Rejection would sting, but not knowing would hurt way more. I was going for it.

  For once, I was fucking going for it.

  Bracing a knee beside him on the cushion, I reached out to touch his hair. Soft and shaggy, it fell through my fingers like a mixture of silk and straw. Rough and silky both. Would his scruff feel like that too? Against my chin, my breasts.

  Between my legs.

  He didn’t move a muscle, just let me explore from his hair to his forehead to the little wrinkle above his nose. His was perfectly straight, unlike Em’s. I traced it with a fingertip and followed it down to his lips. So full and unsmiling, in spite of the warmth and invitation in his golden-brown eyes.

  My thumb grazed his lower lip and he let out a ragged exhale. He shifted slightly on the couch, spreading his legs that much more, almost daring me to glance down to where his cock was straining against his jeans.

  Just like that, my nerve faltered. This wasn’t a naïve church boy I was fumbling around with. This was a real, experienced man, one of my best friends. The other stood a few feet away, probably thinking I was on the verge of going straight-up sex maniac on him.

  He might be right.

  “Don’t stop now,” JC murmured, giving me all the permission I could ever need.

  I dipped my head and brushed my lips against his, shocked that he was so hot. His skin was on fire. And God, his lips were soft. I pressed harder against him, just learning their shape and texture, wobbling a little on my bent knee as he reached up to tangle his hands in my hair. He pulled me down and slid his tongue into my mouth, not wasting a moment.

  As tentative as I was, he was bold.

  The kiss lasted a few seconds. His tongue slashed over mine, driving hard as if he knew we wouldn’t have long to sink in and get to know each o
ther that way. I let him take the lead, shaky and stirred, surprised to feel the reverberations of his tongue between my tightly clenched thighs. My clit was already joining the fray.

  Too soon, it was over, our mouths separated for reasons I didn’t understand. I blinked up at Emerson, realizing his fingers pinched my shoulder in an unrelenting grip.

  He’d pulled me away to sit beside JC, and now he was staring down at me, his features taut with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t identify. Anger and confusion, absolutely. Maybe even some hurt, which I’d have to puzzle out later.

  But there was more. His blue eyes had gone flame-hot, and I didn’t think I was imagining the lust burning there. For me.

  For us?

  I couldn’t analyze it. Not when I felt like my internal thermostat had fried and my skin was too tight. I had to move, to keep this going.

  I grabbed Emerson’s T-shirt, clenching the damp fabric. He was sweating. I was too. God, we were all going to die of heat stroke.

  “Lily,” Emerson grated, and I didn’t know if he was warning me or begging me.

  I didn’t fucking care.

  I used a fistful of his shirt to drag his face down to mine. His eyes were so close. Too close, seeing me inside and out. And his mouth was right there, just a whisper away.

  So I bit it.

  He groaned and the sound swept through me like a fever. Eyes still wide open, I tugged his full lower lip between my teeth, going with instinct because experience sure as hell had never led me down this particular path. But I saw his pupils flare, the dark obscuring the blue, and his chest heaved under my hand as my teeth skimmed flesh.

  Then his tongue was stroking into my mouth, and I could only take.

  He kissed me hard, harder even than JC. The stirring between my legs grew, causing me to shift and press them together to try to quell the ache. I hadn’t worn tights under my dress, and the wetness on my inner thighs brought a flush to my cheeks.

  A hand skimmed up my midsection, strong fingers traveling higher to cup one of my breasts. I didn’t react. I just let Emerson work his magic on my mouth while JC palmed my flesh, not clumsily pinching and plucking like what’s-his-name had. He let me get used to having his hand on my body before he started toying with my nipple. Lightly at first, then with growing pressure until I couldn’t stifle the whimper that slipped into Emerson’s mouth along with my eager tongue.