Page 270 of Filthy Elites

Her eyes narrow, but I can see the heat and anticipation dancing there. She doesn’t like to be bossed around by anyone but me. “Whatever you say,” she says playfully to disguise how much she means it.

I watch her head out to the bar to refill my drink.

Mallory comes over, a big smile on her face. She’s past tipsy. I can tell because she drops onto the couch beside me, then falls over giggling and leans her head on my bicep.

I don’t think much of it until her hand softly closes around it and she peers up at me, looking a little nervous, but a little hopeful, too. “Sorry, Dare. I’m, like, so drunk right now.”

I resist the urge to drag her hand off me like it’s a dirty net washed up on the shore. Mallory’s pretty and all, but I don’t fuck Anae’s friends, and I’m getting strong come-on vibes.

She goes to sit up andaccidentallyputs her hand on my thigh.

What is this?

Her hand slides in until it’s dangerously close to my dick. I grab her wrist, startling her. She looks up at me, unsure if my steely grip is part of the game, or…

It’s or.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask her.

Her mouth opens and closes like she never dreamed I wouldask. “I…”

I hear the clacking of Anae’s heels on the hardwood, so I push her friend’s hand off me and lean away.

Taking the hint, Mallory sits up and looks straight ahead, clearly embarrassed.

Anae leans over the back of the couch so her long hair falls on my shoulder. Rubbing my chest, she offers my drink. “Here you go, baby.”

Fuck this.

I don’t know what she’s up to, but I’d bet my left nut she’s fully aware Mallory just came onto me, and I’m not in the mood for her shit tonight.

I push her hand off me too and stand. Anae straightens, appearing startled. Mallory avoids looking at me altogether.

I nod at Scofield. “Come on, asshole. Let’s go for a swim.”

He blinks in surprise, following, but tentatively. “You’re not gonna drown me, are you?” he asks, only half joking since hewasjust rubbing his dick against my girlfriend’s ass.

“Dare, wait,” Anae says. Her tone drips desperation she’s not even careful to conceal, so she must really be worried I’m mad. I can tell by the fast clicking of her heels she’s hurrying to catch up with me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you tonight.”

“Who’s playing games?” she asks, brilliantly feigning confusion—that, or it’s real and I’m just being cynical.

I shoot her a look. “You’re always playing games.”

Her gaze flits to our friends standing nearby. She doesn’t mind handling me when we’re alone, but she hates doing it with an audience. Gently grabbing my arm, she says, “Come on, let’s go talk.”

She tells everyone else we’ll catch up like she’s in charge, and once they’ve wandered off, she pulls me back in the house.

“Why are you mad at me?” she asks, looking genuinely confused.

“You’re testing me, and I don’t fucking like it.”

She stares, wide-eyed. “What are you talking about? Why would I test you?”

“Mallory.”

It’s all I say.

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