Page 55 of Don't You Pucking Dare

I slip on my mask, feeling power settle over me like armor. Time to remind everyone who runs this game. I movethrough the crowd without acknowledging Lola, though I feel her eyes following me. Let her want. Let her burn.

Amanda makes first contact, predictable. But my focus is on Lola, the way those boots make her legs look endless. The alcohol's made her cheeks flush, her eyes bright.

"Ladies." I let the word carry weight.

Amanda's hand finds my chest. Amateur move. I remove it like brushing away a fly. "Not tonight."

"Why not?" She presses closer, breath heavy with tequila. "We could share."

"Thing is..." I step back, building tension. "It's not happening with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell her, Lola." I watch fury build in Amanda's eyes. "Tell her who I'm really fucking tonight."

Lola's drunk enough to look genuinely confused. "What?"

I wrap my arm around her waist, claiming territory. "Only Lola gets my attention tonight."

Amanda's face twists. Good. Let her storm off feeling betrayed. One less complication.

Lola tries to follow her—always the good girl—but my fingers circle her wrist. "Stay, Duchess. I've been waiting for you."

"Waiting? More like playing games, Brody." Her voice carries heat.

My hand finds the curve of her ass. "Enjoyed the hockey game tonight, baby?"

She just stares, caught between wanting to chase Amanda and wanting to stay. But we both know which urge will win.

It's all proceeding exactly as planned.

"You were quite the fan tonight." I let my voice drop low, watching her struggle between chasing Amanda and staying. "All those cheers, jumping around..."

Her lips form a pout that sends blood rushing south. Last time I saw those pouty lips, they were wrapped tightly around my cock as punishment. If she tests me right now, I’ll gladly shove it down her throat again.

She turns away, but I press against her back, letting her feel exactly what she does to me. "Miss me, Duchess?"

Her silence is new. I don’t fucking like it. I squeeze her ass and nod toward the hallway. I need to get her alone, need to remind her who she belongs to. Amanda's poisoned her mind with high school stories she has no business knowing.

The moment we're out of sight, I grab her face. "Playing detective with Amanda? Think a few stories means you know me?"

Her eyes burn into mine. "I don't know you, Brody." She pushes against my chest, but it's weak. Unconvincing.

I tighten my grip on her jaw. "Damn right you don't. Where have you been hiding these past few weeks, huh?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Defiance flashes in her eyes. "Owner…"

The word hits like a shot of pure heat. "Wrong answer, Duchess."

I crash my mouth against hers, claiming what's mine. She resists for a heartbeat before her lips part, letting my tongue sweep in. The taste of her—tequila and surrender—floods my senses. Fuck these weeks of distance. Fuck the plan. Right now I just need her.

She stumbles against the wall, and reality crashes back. She's drunk—too drunk. I pull back, studying her flushed face. "Why all the drinks, Duchess? Trying to forget me?"

Her laugh hits something in my chest. She kisses me again, messy and real. "Nobody could forget you." She observes my face closely.

The words make me pause. I've read this all wrong. Her silence wasn't anger—she's drunk and missing me. The realization shouldn't affect me, but it does. I kiss her deeper, hand sliding to her throat. I kiss her until I’m out of breath.

I whisper, "Tonight's going to be fun."

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