Page 26 of Born Sinner
“Why?” he shouts back, those damn hands making a grab for my hips again. “You got a guy or something?”
It doesn’t matter if I’ve “got” a guy, a girl, or a gorilla. If he touches me again, he’ll be pulling back a bloody stump.
“No, I—” The minute I look up, the words die on my tongue. Standing on the second level—right in the heart of the VIP area I was just pining over—is the man I've been waiting for.
He’s draped over the railing, wearing that irritatingly familiar blasé expression, as if daring it to fall.
A blurry memory breaks through the haze. I remember thinking the same thing last night as I watched him leaning against the wall. How even his stance seemed like a challenge.
“What the hell is he doing here?”
A pair of dry lips dust my ear. “Who?”
I don’t bother answering.Whoisn’t the right question. It’swhy.
The longer I stare, the more Sam stares.Pinche cabrón.Has he been here the whole time? Just watching me like the stalker he is?
He wants a show?
For the first time, I offer him a loaded smile.
I’ll give him one.
“Nobody,” I shout back. “Let’s dance.” Before he can grab me again, I shuffle around behind him, causing him to do a one-eighty.
However, my attention isn’t on him. It’s one floor up.
I want a front row seat too, you son of a bitch.
Oblivious, the guy follows my lead and turns to face the VIP area, once again hooking an arm around my waist and pressing his chest so tightly against my back his shirt sticks to my bare skin. I play the game with cat-like finesse, purring up against him while holding Sam’s volatile glare.
The blank expression is gone. His arms are no longer leisurely draped over the railing. Now, he’s choking the life out of it.
Instead of deterring me, it spurs me on.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m taunting him or because he’s jealous—but screw it. I’m turning up the heat and pushing the needle to find out once and for all.
Lifting one arm, I coil it around the guy’s neck and drop down low, my shiny silver dress riding up my thighs. Slowly and methodically, I rise to the sound of a strained groan behind me.
I’m playing another dangerous game, but I’ve already poured gasoline on a lit flame. All that’s left is to watch it burn.
Unfortunately, I’m forced to drag my gaze away from my fiery creation when a wandering hand slides up the inside of my thigh.
“Hey!” I shout, turning around and shoving my fist into his chest. “If you value your testicles, you won’t do that again.”
The asshole has the nerve to look shocked, muttering, “Tease…” before stalking off the dance floor toward the bar.
“Well, that backfired.” I palm the back of my neck just as Avery gives me two thumbs up from a few feet away—like she did with Troy last night.
I’m seriously starting to question the people I’ve chosen to surround myself with. Their judge of character leaves a lot to be desired.
I grind my teeth together. I’m not exactly a shining beacon of sensibility, myself. I have no idea what this thing is between Sam and me.And that savage look in his eyes?I don’t know if it’s because he wants to hate me or hates that he wants me.
I tell myself not to—but it’s useless. My gaze draws back up to the VIP area, only to find the railing empty. He’s nowhere to be found.
My heart sinks.
It’s neither. He just hates me.
