Page 70 of All We Need

“Are you okay?”Boothwhispers as he cradles my arm gently and inspects the skin. “I’mgoing to fucking ki?—”

“No, you’re not.Nobusiness tonight, remember?Lethim cool off and give him a warning on his next shift.”

“Aly, he put his hands on you,” he seethes.

“AndI’lladd him to the long list of boys intimidated by women in high positions.NothingIhaven’t handled before.”Iflip my hand over and squeeze his forearm. “Butthank you.”

He relaxes under my touch and shuffles forward until his hip presses into me. “Youreally are scary.Isit weirdIlike it?”

“Yes.You’revery weird.Especiallyafter watching your choreographed dance routine.”Icollect my hair into one hand and lay it over my shoulder.

Booth’s eyes flare, andIfeel the trickle of heat as his gaze traces along my collarbone, over my breasts, then lower.Likea line of powdered dynamite being lit, a spark ignites, the fire flowing straight to my core.

The restaurant opened up two days afterChristmas, and things between us have shifted considerably.Westill enjoy giving each other a hard time, but rather than him storming off or me losing my patience, there’s a playfulness to it.Eachsnarky comment or ridiculous joke shared is laced with temptation.

It’s a game of who will break first.

AndIrefuse to bend.Eversince he declared we wouldn’t kiss unlessIbegged,I’vehad to dial up my willpower.Everyfleeting look and chaste brush of our hands is a dare.

There’s a hunger in his gaze.He’spushing me.Waitingfor me to snap.Ratherthan bow to the deep-seated desire brewing in my veins,Istep back.

“Oh!Everyone!”Quinnshouts and bounces on her toes. “Midnightstrikes in two minutes.Grabyour partners.”She’sso overcome with excitement, cozying intoGraham, that she isn’t aware they’re the only couple present.ShespotsDexandFlorence’srigid postures and giggles. “Hey,Ididn’t say you had to kiss.”Thenher eyes slide to me andBooth. “Ordo.”

My protest dies on the tip of my tongue whenHarrietbounds over and loops her arm throughBooth’s.

“I’ve asked theDJto playB*witched next,” she says breathlessly.

To his credit, he takes a few seconds to break our staring contest, but when he looks down at his “friend,” a smile erupts on his face. “Soundsgood,Harry.”

There’s that stupid pinprick in my chest again.Asilly, naïve sensation that shouldn’t exist between me and him.

Which is why when the crowd starts to countdown,Iknock back my drink and face the dance floor.Preferringto look anywhere else but at them.

Ten.Nine.Eight.

A large hand grazes my waist asIkeep my eyes trained on the partygoers.

Seven.Six.

“Alessandra.”Adeep voice tickles my ear. “Lookat me.”

Five.Four.

“That’s not a good idea.”Atmy refusal, the heat of his body disappears.

And so doI.

I blame the alcohol for my tantrum as my heels clack against the parquet floor on my journey to the kitchen.Whenthe door stops swinging,Igrip the edge of the stainless steel table, head pounding as the cheers from outside vibrate in my skull.

Dumb.Dumb.Dumb.

This man is killing off my brain cells.

Never, andImeannever,haveIreacted this way over someone.HadIturned around and witnessed him pressing his lips toHarriet’s,Iwould have blown a gasket.

Which is whyIneed to go.Now.

I’m about to unlock the fire exit when the door hinges creak behind me.Themusic gets louder, and then muffles as the door swings shut.

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