Page 105 of Volatile Obsessions

I shook my head amusedly.

Fucking slags, the both of them.

When G-Eazy and Halsey faded in with “Him and I,” hoots and hollers of approval erupted all around us. Even I belted out an appraising scream, lifting my arms in the air.

I threw my head back.

Shut my eyes.

I loved this song despite what it stood for and who it made me think of.

No, we’re not going there…

Pushing him back to the recess’ of my mind, I continued swaying my hips, rocking side to side sensually, completely lost in the music.

But that’s when I felt it…

Searing body warmth.

A strong arm around my waist.

A possessive hand at my hip and warm lips ghosting along the column of my neck.

No.

I stilled in place, melting inadvertently into this familiar touch regardless of my girls standing not five feet away.

Regardless of my brain screaming, “Abort, abort!”

“Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t run from the King?” His voice somehow boomed in my ear above everything else, reeling me further into him.

Not a single word came out of my mouth.

And believe me, I tried. My mouth popped open, ready to outcry my demurral.

But words failed me.

Suddenly, I was ten times more buzzed; light-headed, weak in the knees, my stomach one giant knot.

He was here.

How?

Why?

“Tongue tied, are we?” Roman chuckled, rolling his hips against me.

Again, I couldn’t answer. It felt like every set of eyes in the room was on me.

On us.

The girls’ were for sure. Stryker and Marco, too. I didn’t have to look their way for confirmation; their stares were more than palpable.

Fixated.

Downright shocked.

I had to get Roman out of here before the drunken inquisition started.

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