His brows pinch. “Who?”
Faking disinterest, I lift my chin. “The sexy redhead.”
Scoffing, he says, “You’re impossible, you know that?” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Lily has never been your competition.”
I blink before meeting his stare. Flames rage in his eyes, and my flesh breaks out in goosebumps.
“I don’t think I’m in that competition anymore,” I say under my breath.
He scrunches his nose, shaking his head. “I guess not. You won a long time ago, didn’t you?”
“Gabriel—”
He sucks his teeth. “Don’t act like you don’t fucking know, Ash. I’m not asking you to forgive me or for anything to change but cut the bullshit for tonight. Don’t pretend that you don’t know I’m so in love with you I don’t see anyone else in this room.”
My lips part and my breaths quicken. I can’t get words to leave my mouth.
He presses his lips into a tight grin before running his eyes over every inch of my body. It feels like being struck by lightning, and for a moment, I hope he’ll never take them off me.
“You look incredible in that dress.” He quirks a brow, lifting the vibration around us back to the easy flirtation frombefore.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Smiling, I tuck a hair behind my ear.
When I reach for my drink, bringing it to my mouth, he pulls it from my hand and slides it across the table. The clear plastic cup falls, splashing pink liquid onto the floor.
“Hey!” I object.
He slams his foot down, leaning forward so his breath splays on the shell of my ear as he whispers, “I have every intention of taking you home later, and you can’t consent to that if you’re drunk.”
Every hair on my body stands up.
I cock my head to the side. “And what exactly makes you think I’d consent anyway?”
He smirks again and leans back in his chair, grabbing his beer from the table.
“We can play this game if you want, but I know you.” He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig.
I’m not exaggerating when I say, I would give my right limb to be that bottle right now. I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms and legs.
“You’re so full of shit.”
“No, I’m not.” He tips his beer to someone who greets him from behind me.
Kicking his shin, I say, “Dance with me.”
He scoffs. “I don’t dance.”
“I know, but if you think you’re taking me upstairs tonight, you better get your ass up.” Not waiting for an answer, I stand and start toward the dance floor.
He darts out of his seat, wrapping an arm around my waist; his fingers splayed across my lower abdomen before putting his mouth to my ear. “I know for a fact I’m taking you upstairs with me later.”
Then, he brushes past me, grabbing my hand and practically dragging me across the room.
You might know, the second we hit the dance floor, it switches to a slow song. I laugh nervously before I notice Gabriel winking at the DJ.
“What was that?” I glance between them.
He shrugs, smirking. “What’s what?”
