“Looks like he’s going to make his move,” Liam says.
My heart, so loud in my ears I can barely make out their words, pounds harder. I don’t want to fall into the trap I know he’s setting, but I can’t help myself. I look. The sight of Nate’s knee pressed against hers and his hand over hers on the table makes me see red, and I move before I know what I’m doing.
30
JOSSLYN
“Why are people saying Nate Crawford called Dibs on you?” Finn asks, his voice a quiet rumble that makes my heart skip.
I meet his intense gaze. “Because he did.”
“Do you know what that is?”
“Everyone knows what it is.” I laugh lightly. “Nate has probably called Dibs on thirty people by now.”
He moves closer and presses his cheek against mine as he brings his lips to my ear. “I don’t like it.”
My stomach dips. “No?”
“Hell no.” He presses the softest kiss just beneath my ear and my entire body heats.
Whatever he sees on my face as he pulls back makes him smirk, but I’m too lost in the moment to care about his arrogance. Ever since he took his seat back from Nate, he’s been extra attentive—his arm on the back of my chair, his body moving closer to mine, his conversations reserved for my ears only. It’s as if he’s staking his claim on me, which is baffling. And thrilling. Every time aphotographer comes around to take a picture, Finn confuses the hell out of all of us at the table by moving closer to me.
Damian and Will haven’t stopped staring. Livie keeps biting her lip so she doesn’t bust out laughing. Tiago hasn’t stopped scowling. Nate doesn’t give a shit, so he’s been carrying the conversation. Between dinner and the auction, there’s another break, and everyone gets up to mingle. Finn and I stay in our seats. I wait until Livie is gone before turning to him.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly. He scoots his chair so close he might as well pull me onto his lap. I shoot him a warning look. “Finn.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
My eyes narrow. “You’ve been touching me all night.”
“And that’s a problem?”
I search his eyes for a moment because he has to be joking. He’s not. “You realize they’ve taken a million pictures of us, right? Of you all over me.”
He glances away and starts scanning the room.
“Finn.”
His eyes snap to mine. I hate that he’s so impossible to read. “I’m aware of the pictures,” he says finally, looking completely unconcerned. “I didn’t realize you cared.”
“I don’t, but I know you do.” I set my elbows on the table and turn my face to look at him.
He doesn’t respond, which drives me crazy. Tate was a no-show, so it can’t have anything to do with pissing him off. We had sex, so it doesn’t make sense for him to be acting this way unless there’s a reason. He’s been practically staking claim on me all night, and even though he never does that, I’m not going to kid myself into believing I’m special to him.
“Tell me about your dad,” he says suddenly, and my stomach drops for a different reason.
I lick my lips. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Were you close?”
“Very.” I smile softly. “He’s the reason I got into basketball. He played pro for a few years.”
“Really?” His brows rise.
“It was his life,” I say quietly as I train my eyes on the white tablecloth.
“What happened?”
