Page 81 of A Little Tempting

The same smile hardens as he gives Reeves a dark look. “Reeves…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m aware of who she came with, Ev. No need to piss on her. You can lower your leg.”

“Thanks,” Everett grunts, though he doesn’t exactly look convinced. Then again, neither am I. Not when it comes to Reeves. If I’ve learned anything about him over the past little while, it’s he does whatever he wants. Period. And for some reason I can’t understand, he wants me. The question is, is it because he likes me, or is it because he enjoys pissing off Everett? And honestly? I have no idea.

With a deep breath, I slide into the chair closest to the back wall and rest my elbows on the table, unsure what to do now that I’m actually here and my date is on a mission to find me something to drink. Part of me wonders how much the school bothers keeping the alcohol locked up at events like this. The other part? Well, one might say I’m well aware of how creative college students are when it comes to sneaking around and getting the things they want, especially when half the student body is already legal.

The legs from the closest chair scrape against the polished marble floor as Reeves spins it around and straddles it, resting his corded forearms on the backrest while pinning me with a stare I can feel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“I like the dress.”

“So you mentioned.”

“Do you dance?”

“Not when I’m sober.”

His laugh is warm. “You look beautiful, you know.”

I gulp. “Thank you?”

“Is that a question?” he teases.

“I’m, uh, I’m not sure. I’m not exactly great at taking compliments.”

“Shocker. And don’t get me wrong. You look gorgeous. But I think I miss the glasses.”

I snort and lift my hand as if to touch the frames despite knowing they’re absent tonight. “Of course you do.”

“What? They’re cute!”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, tearing my attention from those dangerous dark eyes and choosing to focus on the dance floor instead. Couples are paired together, their bodies pressed close, each of them swaying to a classic Broken Vows song. It’s…kind of adorable.

“So, do you want to dance?” Reeves prods.

“Haven’t had my drink yet,” I remind him. “And even if I had, you’re not my date, remember? You don’t need to…” I wave my hand around. “You know. Babysit me or whatever.”

“You hardly need babysitting, Dylan.”

“Funny,” I mutter.

“Why? Because it’s Everett’s favorite pastime with you?” he challenges.

My eyes snap to his. “Everett’s protective of everyone.”

“Yet his sister’s on the dance floor, and you’re sitting here waiting for him to come back.”

“His sister is harder to push around,” I mutter under my breath, well aware of how it paints me in the process. Honestly, I’m jealous of Finley. How she’s confident. How she isn’t afraid to speak her mind or put her brother—or anyone else for that matter—in their place. But I hate confrontation. I hate disappointing people. I hate causing friction or drama or…anything, really. Is it wrong to want to keep the peace, even if it means biting your tongue or going with the flow when it’s moving in the opposite direction you want every once in a while?

Hearing my unspoken self-deprecation and how close it hits to home, Reeves leans closer. “Tell me something. Are you still thinking about our little experiment in my room the other day?”

Heat floods in my lower stomach, and my fingers itch to touch my lips, the memory of his kiss branded into me, but I keep my hands fisted instead. “Why would I?”

“Because you couldn’t stop thinking about the one you shared with your masked wolf at the costume party,” he replies. “I guess I’m trying to gauge if ours is on the same level.” He brushes his finger against mine, and I peek up at him.

“No comment.”

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