Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,136

are going to judge her if she puts even a foot wrong.

There are going to be eyes on me all night, and probably from people who I don’t even expect. I’ll have all the heads of Dynasty making sure I don’t fuck up and embarrass the whole organization, the wives silently judging me and reminding me that I wasn’t raised to the same standard and class as they were, while the children watch closely, hoping they have something to gossip about to their friends tomorrow.

Did I mention Ember is going to be there? Just fucking great.

It’s going to be swell.

Hell, and I thought tonight was supposed to be about celebrating Cruz and Grayson finding Maddison Atwell and making their first big save.

I pull a black tank over my head, the word Queen scrawled across my tits, and knot it at my waist, showing off my toned stomach just how I like. My tank is pretty old and ratty, but it’s also comfy as hell. I’ve had it for years after I stole it off some dick who I shared a foster home with. Before that, I didn’t even listen to Queen, but for the sake of the situation, I forced myself to and have been a fan ever since. Besides, it shows off just the right amount of side-boob and with it tied up like this, you can’t even see the holes in it.

I grab my favorite choker and lean into the mirror as I fasten it around my throat, my eyes quickly darting to the faded love bites Grayson left at the base of my neck in the Jacuzzi. The thought of it sends a wicked thrill through me but I put it to the back of my mind. Party first, and then I can fuck the boys, and if they’re in the ‘organized sports’ kinda mood, I’ll see how they feel about all four of them taking me on at once. Though, where the hell is everything supposed to go? I’d be like a cream-filled donut with white stuff oozing out of every little hole. I can’t wait.

Black liner circles my eyes, and just to get a kick out of Cruz, I add an extra two layers of mascara. Though for Carver, I put my hair up into a high pony, knowing how every time he sees it like this, he can’t help but dream about the way he’d wrap his hand around it and yank my head back until my eyes were only on his. Sometimes his inability to share is a pain in the ass, but I can’t deny that sometimes his jealous tendencies definitely have their advantages.

“Babe, you ready?” Cruz’s lazy question comes from the doorway of my new bedroom—the very room that my parents once called their own.

I roll my tongue over my lips as I step away from the mirror. “Damn right, I am,” I tell him, walking out of the massive closet and turning out the light as I go.

My gaze instantly sweeps over Cruz, leaning up against my door frame in a three-piece suit that has him looking like a Beckham at a royal wedding while also looking like he’s about to step through the doors of a BDSM dungeon and fuck me until I scream a safe word.

“Well, shit,” I say, my eyes greedily travelling over his perfectly sculpted body. “You’re making me feel underdressed.”

Cruz grins and shakes his head. “You look fucking perfect. No one else is going to be this formal, but mom would whoop my ass if I wore anything different. Tonight is her night, and I’m not about to fuck it up for her.”

“Funny,” I grumble, stepping into his warm arms and brushing my lips over his. “I could have sworn that tonight was supposed to be your night.”

His hand comes down over my ass with a sharp slap, the tight leather making the sound bounce off every wall in the room. “Tonight is my night,” he promises, meaning so much more than just the dinner party. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Promise,” I tell him. “Tonight I’m all yours.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” King hollers from the foyer directly below us.

I groan and grab my phone off my dresser before looking down at my pants and trying to figure out where the fuck to put it. After all, I know I’m in leather pants, thigh-high boots, and an old Queen tank, but I have to be somewhat classy. It’s not like I can just shove it down