“You’re the DJ,” Tre says, intercepting him. “Your shit is fly, bruh.”
Dice spares him a clipped nod. “Thanks. I need a minute with my cuz here.”
Hiscuz. I could smack him.
“Next drink’s on the house,” Dice tosses out like some kind of consolation prize. Then he wraps his hand around my upper arm and tugs me through the crowd toward the staff-only hallway that leads to my father’s office.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shake him off, jerking free. “I told you not to manhandle me.”
“I wasn’t manhandling you. I was escorting you here.”
“Well, your Prince Charming impression needs work.”
“Are you fucking him?”
I blink. Stunned. “Excuse me?”
The intensity of his gaze—dark and sharp—even behind the brown tint of his glasses, pins me in place. It’s like I’m trapped in the center of his focus.
“Are you?” he presses, teeth clenched.
“How is that any of your business?”
“Answer the question.”
“If I have an itch, it’s no concern of yours who scratches it.”
“I’m making it my concern.”
“I’m a big girl, Dyson. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you acting like some big brother orcuz,as you put it.”
“I’m not tryna be either.” He brings a force of heat as he steps closer, sucking the oxygen from my lungs. “If you need someone to scratch that itch, let it be me.”
So shocked I’m dizzy, I sway a little. He places a hand at my waist to steady me, firm and warm through the thin layer of my dress.
I know I should move it, but I like it there too much. Still, confusion rules.
“Have you been drinking?” I ask.
“No.”
“Had a bad fall? On your head, maybe?”
“Lot, I’m stone-cold sober and not at all concussed.”
“Then why are you saying shit you don’t mean?”
“I haven’t said anything I don’t mean.”
“Then make it clear so I know I’m not misreading.”
“I want to fuck you. Is that clear enough?”
My heart pounds like horses at a stampede and my coochie pulses with wet joy. Dice Jones just said he wants to fuck me.Yes! Yes! And yes!my impulsive brain screams. But the rational part slows me down.
“Why?” I ask. “You’ve never wanted me before.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve wanted you since you were eighteen. Wouldn’t allow those thoughts before then.”
