Page 3 of Positively Pricked
Instantly, the senator's gaze snapped in my direction. He called out, "Jane! Go on! Tell him!"
My steps faltered, and I heard myself ask, "Tell him what?"
The senator gave me a pleading look. "Tell him that you liked it. You know, that it was voluntary."
My jaw dropped.Wait, what?
I gave a confused shake of my head. Ididn'tlike it. The senator was a creep, and besides, until just last night, he'd been engaged to someone else – someone I might've called a friend. But that wasn't the thing that had me reeling.
It was the implication of what he'd just said.
My gaze shifted from the senator to the guy holding him against the wall. As if feeling my gaze, Zane slowly turned to look. And when he did, I saw something new in his eyes – a possessive spark that caught me totally off guard.
My breath caught.Oh, my God.Thiswasabout me.
But why?
Was it because I worked for him?
No.That couldn’t be it. Thousands of people worked for him, and I'd never seen him behave anything likethis.
Still, it didn't make any sense.
I mean, he didn't evenlikeme. Cripes, Zane Bennington didn't like anyone – as I'd learned so quickly on the night we'd met – when I'd been a lowly catering assistant and he'd been – well, Zane Bennington, the mystery man who had everyone talking.
