Page 47 of All In

I’m starting to shake my head when the guy is being forcibly moved away from me, and a raging Harlow is filling my vision. I barely make out the words “my husband” over the music.

The scowl on Harlow’s face is the most intense I’ve ever seen it.

“Sorry.” The guy holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Harlow snaps. “Now you do. Get your hands off my fucking husband.”

My stomach does something complicated at the words flying out of Harlow’s mouth, my heart taking off in a wild rhythm even though I know he doesn’t mean it. Not really.

The guy doesn’t take the hint because he reaches down, ignoring the way Harlow is glaring daggers at him, and grips my hand, holding it up in the air. I’m too stunned to even pull away. “See. No ring.” The guy shrugs. “Didn’t know.”

Without another word, he drops my hand and then quickly steps away.

Harlow stares after him, his jaw set in a line and his shoulders rising and falling harshly. Then he’s turning on me. “You wanna take that guy home?”

I shake my head because what the fuck? Of course I don’t.

Harlow grits his teeth, baring them at me. It’s stupidly fucking hot, frying my brain and making my cock—which had flagged when the guy grabbed me—swell again.

“Are you jealous?”

Harlow’s jaw falls open. “Of course I’m fucking jealous. You’re my husband.”

The liquid in one of the cups Harlow is holding sloshes out of the side, spilling down my arm when I grip his face roughly and slam my mouth down onto his. I can feel the vibration of his moan against my lips, and I pull him closer, ignoring everyone around us.

He’s a tiny firecracker, trying to climb my body with both drinks still in his hands, so I pull back long enough to take one from him and grab his hand. Leading him off the dance floor, I set the still-full cups on one of the empty tables close by and pull him out the door.

It’s not cold outside by any means, but compared to the sweltering heat inside the club, the air feels cool against my overheated skin.

“What are we doing?” Harlow asks, his voice loud. Like he’s not used to talking at a normal volume after shouting over the music for the last few hours. “Are you mad at me?”

I don’t answer him. Not yet. I can’t. Anything I say is going to be stupid. I’m single-mindedly focused on finding a modicum of privacy. There’s an alley to the left of the club, and when I see that no one is in it, I drag him into it after me.

“Grayson—”

I cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his surprised gasp. Without giving myself time to think, I wrap my hands around his hips and lift him up, pinning him to the brick wall.

He moans, dropping his head against it, and I move him, shifting him until his cock is lined up with mine.

I need to come, and I need to do it with Harlow.

It’s not even a want anymore.

Need to know what he sounds like when he comes undone. Need to know how his body reacts. Does he shiver and shake? Does he moan? Does he whimper? I don’t know, and knowing is the most important thing in the world to me.

I rock my hips, dragging my cock over his, and he groans, his eyes falling shut and his throat bobbing.

“Feel good?” I croak out.

He nods. “Yeah. Yes. So much. Kiss me.”

I dip my head, sealing our lips back together. It’s sloppy. Whether from the alcohol or the desperation, I’m not sure. I’m not trashed. I’m just buzzed enough that my inhibitions are gone. Just drunk enough that I’m not thinking about all the ways this is going to hurt.

Harlow drags his tongue over mine, then pulls back enough that he can lick at my bottom lip and nip at the skin.

I groan into his mouth, my hips punching forward and my fingers tightening so hard on his hips that they go numb.

“Do you want me?” I rasp out against his lips.