Shane raises a glass. “Yours. Cherry coke. No alcohol.”
A lime wedge bobs atop the fizzing liquid. As I sip, I watch him warily over the rim of the frosty glass.
“Seems like there’s more we need to settle. All right. We’ll talk when we get home.” He tilts his head, looking down the front of my dress. Again it feels like he’s taking inventory, admiring the way my breasts look in the ultra-sexy bodice. “We won’t stay much longer, but you promised to wear your game face tonight, Avery. So put it on.” He sets my empty glass on a ledge and takes my arm, pulling me into the light.
I’m startled by the suddenness of being in the more public space. I try to retreat, but in an instant, his left arm slides around my waist, encircling it. He maneuvers my body, so my back presses against his torso. The way he’s holding me is overtly possessive, and covertly oppositional.
Shane raises his glass and then his voice. “Here’s to Lambda Delta Kappa being nothing but platinum.”
The room erupts with cheers, and suddenly hundreds of eyes are upon us. I try to move forward so we’re not touching, but his grip is firm. I’m anchored to him.
I reach down instinctively, my nails digging into his forearm. Turning my head, I study his profile.
“Shane,” I whisper, the one word a warning.
“Stay still. I’m doing something. I’ll explain later.” Then he smiles, but not at me. He’s watching the room. “Hey, send me that.”
My head jerks forward, and I realize people are snapping pics. I stiffen, forcing myself not to scowl because our personal war should not be for public consumption. As I smile, my nails dig deeper. I know I must be hurting him. Under all his hard muscles, he’s still flesh and blood.
His mouth moves to my ear, the whisper excruciatingly intimate. “Are you a kitten? Because only kittens get to dig their claws into me.”
That’s a strange thing to say since he doesn’t have a cat.
His cock presses against my ass, the thin billowy chiffon not able to protect me from the feel of it. Something in my core clenches and throbs in a traitorous primal response. My body wants his. Full stop.
My mind, on the other hand, rebels, horrified that my nipples have puckered and my hips want to press backward against him. My face heats until I feel like I’m about to burst into flames. I tell my fingers to let go of him, but they won’t. I’m holding on for dear life.
“You have three seconds to stop, Avery.”
His soft breath caresses my ear, and I can’t think, can’t move. My mind is trying to convince my body to listen to me.
“Three, two, one…you’re in so much trouble.Kitten.”
He pulls me a few feet to a table and sets his glass down. Then his right hand grabs my wrist and yanks my hand away from him.
When he turns me to face him, I avert my eyes. Too many emotions churn inside me. His left hand slides down to my ass. My eyes widen, and I start to reach back.
“I wouldn’t,” he warns. “It won’t move until I decide to move it. All you’ll do is draw attention to us.”
My arm’s motion stutters mid air, and I let it drop to my side. “Move your hand.”
“I will in a second. But my hand’s not what you need to worry about.”
It’s hard to contain everything I feel. A part of me wants to fight with him until he either lets me go or wins so unquestionably that the war waging inside me ends. My whisper is agitated. “What do I need to worry about?”
“The things I’m going to do to you when we’re alone tonight.”
My breath catches in my throat. I can’t move or even breathe.
“Damn,” a familiar voice says. “That’s some brutal shit.”
Shane’s green eyes hold mine for a beat, then he directs his attention to the voice’s owner.
As I start to turn, my gaze lands on Daniel’s face. It was his voice, but he’s not looking at us. He’s looking up.
I follow the direction of his stare. On the second floor, a row of men stand at a half wall. Todd Bardoratch is among them. They’re facing forward, studying the room below them like kings at a banquet. Each has a lavender rose in his button hole.
“What?” I murmur, confused.
