Page 29 of Corrupt Me

“Who asked you to?”

“My parents. Your dad,” he rattled off, his jaw set in grim tension.

I snorted. “Since when do you ever listen to any of them?”

The tiniest smirk cracked at the corner of his mouth. “If you have to dance, you can do so with me.”

“Dance,” I squeaked. “You want to dance. I’m going to pass.”

“It wasn’t a request.” He grabbed my hand and hauled me closer to him. Why did it seem like Tristan was always manhandling me lately? Tugging me here, yanking me there, and I’d had enough.

I should rip my hand out from his but...his fingers were warm on mine, and I didn’t want to admit how good it felt to have him touch me. Even something as simple as holding my hand.

This was a turn of events and not necessarily a good one. I should not be dancing with Tristan. I should not be this close to the enemy.

Or should I...

I wasn’t sure how much stock went into the sayingkeep your friends close but keep your enemies closer, but I didn’t see how it could hurt my situation.

Staring up into his face, I angled my head to the side. “I don’t understand you.”

An unidentified emotion passed over his face. It was gone before I had the chance to determine it. Then again, Tristan was a master of hiding his true feelings. “It’s best you don’t try.”

I decided to use this opportunity to my advantage. If Tristan wanted to play games, so could I.

Shaking my head, I stared at him as the two of us stood nose to nose, frozen while everyone around us moved. Feeling bitter and vindictive, I stepped up to Tristan, intentionally aligning our bodies, and loosely draped my arms on his shoulders. I pressed my chest into his. I hadn’t worn a bra today, and my top had a pattern of thin straps on the back, leaving it mostly exposed. His piercing blue eyes flared at the feel of my hardening nipples through his thin cotton tee.

Bull’s-eye.

His reaction, however slight, boosted my confidence. I wasn’t skilled at seduction, but Preston had taught me a few things.

There was no going back. I flipped my hair and ran my hands over his shoulders to loop them around his neck. His muscles were firm under my fingers. At some point, my body knew what to do, and I stopped thinking.

Tristan’s brows drew together, and a dazzle of satisfaction lit up within me. I swirled my hips, rubbing and grinding against him as my hands glided up and down his chest. I should have learned from the last time I’d danced with him how dangerous this game would be. There was a fine line between my heart fluttering and my brain scheming. One of them would overtake the other. I couldn’t afford for it to be my heart.

My efforts weren’t unwarranted. I was rewarded with the darkening of his eyes and felt the proof of his desire. Tristan wanted me. And instead of feeling smug satisfaction as I wanted, I was more confused than ever. Still, I lifted my chin, peering at him from under my lashes. “Why don’t you take a picture to add to your collection,” I suggested sarcastically.

His fingers went to my hips, and I thought he would shove me away and stop the torment. He didn’t. “You’re acting like a brat. Desperate doesn’t look good on you.”

I flinched, his accusation like an invisible slap across my face. “You’re the one who started this. I’m just giving you what you want,” I hurled back.

“You don’t have any idea what I want.”

And that was the fucking problem. But he wasn’t entirely right. I did learn something about Tristan. He desired me. I thought last night and all those times before when I caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes had been part of his ploy, but now...perhaps his entire ruse hadn’t been an act, and the knowledge tangled my feelings. Nothing about him or hisactions made sense to me. He said one thing with his mouth and then turned around and did the opposite with his body. How the hell was I supposed to understand?

I ground my hips against his erection. “I have a pretty fucking good idea.”

“What are you doing?” he demanded gruffly when I was inches from his mouth. The fingers holding my waist tightened into my skin.

Go big or go home. “What do you think I’m doing?” I retorted, my voice a bit huskier than normal. I didn’t even know I could do that. My head tilted to the side, a hint of a smile on my lips. “I’m playing the game.”

“This isn’t funny, Shortcake.”

“Tell me about it,” I murmured, grazing my lips slightly over his so they barely touched. “It’s not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot.” My eyes were solely on his mouth. I couldn’t stop staring at the silver hoop glinting there.

Tristan inhaled sharply, his body stiffening. “Have you lost your mind?” His hands came to either side of my arms as if to ward me off, yet he didn’t push me away. All the encouragement I needed.

Lifting on my toes, I pressed my lips fully to his, not giving him time to shove me or stop me from kissing him. Rejection would have stung; regardless, I was using this exercise as a lesson. Some lies were worth making yourself believe because I did not want to admit that, deep down, I wanted to kiss Tristan. I’d been curious about it for years, and today that inquisitive nature won.

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