“I have a congratulatory trophy in my office.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, by the way.”
I chuckle, low and rough. “Are you insulting my intelligence?”
“I don’t know, am I?”
The snarky tone of her voice has my dick hardening despite my best efforts to ignore her. My pace has slowed enough that she reaches my side and shoulders me with a roll of her eyes.
We’ve left the concert early enough that only a few people are out of their chairs when we descend the escalator. There’s a small line at both the bar and merch line, but nobody pays us any attention. I relax a bit when we go unnoticed.
“I didn’t take you for a leather jacket type of guy. If you tell me you drove a motorcycle here, I’m going to really start considering the possibility that you’ve had your body taken over by an alien,” she says, tugging boldly on my sleeve.
“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”
She huffs a laugh. “Well, at least something makes sense tonight.”
“Are you enjoying annoying me, Brielle?”
“Is that what I’m doing?” she asks, grinning to herself when I steal a downward glance.
“Yes, and I’m going to assume you’ve ramped up your efforts to get back at me for earlier.”
“So, you think I’m petty, then? That’s pretty judgmental.”
My jaw sets while we pass through the security at the front of the arena. “I’m not judging you. I’m stating facts.”
“But they aren’t facts. They’reclaims, if we’re being technical.”
The doors are so, so close. If only they were going to grant my freedom.
“And by the way, I don’t think I’ve actually earned your attitude. Are you being such a jerk because I hit on you?”
Without bothering to take a look around for wandering eyes, I spin, taking her with me.
Brielle’s back makes contact with the shadowed wall a beat before I’m taking her soft red hair in my fist and smashing my knuckles into the wall behind her head, bracing her. Her eyes bulge for a half second before falling to half-mast. The soft, innocent little sound that escapes her jabs straight through my gut and turns to embers in my groin. I lower my head, bringing our faces so close I can scent the champagne on her breath and spot the small, concealed beauty mark on the bridge of her nose.
“You don’t want to play this game with me, Brielle,” I rasp.
The fruity, spiced perfume she’s wearing wafts up into my nostrils as I stare at the pink flush rising up her throat. I inhale on instinct and swallow a desperate groan that tries to escape.
“What game?” she whispers, tipping her head back just enough that the tip of her nose grazes my chin.
“This. The one where I turn you down and you crank up your efforts. I meant what I said. You’re not my type.”
“You’re lying.”
“Allowing you to come with me wasn’t an invitation. This is about my niece. Nothing more.”
Her throat stretches around a slow swallow. “You didn’tallowme to do shit. If you hadn’t agreed to me joining you, I’d have found my own way there.”
“Who’s taking care of your brother tonight?”
She pushes her chin up higher. “He’s an adult.”
“And drunk. I assume from your single glass of champagne that you only took two sips from that you’re his driver for the night?”
“If this is your way of getting me to stay here, it’s not going to work,” she argues, stoking the fire burning through my stomach. “I’ll have one of the other guys drive him home.”
