Page 27 of Devil on Skates
Her eyes narrow. “This is wrong. I need to—”
“What you need,” I say, pulling her closer as the music slows down, “is to stop fighting what’s between us. Dance with me, or I’ll make a scene that your boyfriend and everyone else will notice.”
Her eyes flick toward the kitchen, then back to me, calculating the embarrassment of a scene versus just going along.
“One dance.” She places her hands on my shoulders but keeps all the space she can. “Then you leave me alone.”
I grin, savoring the small win. “You look amazing tonight,” I say. “But I liked the glitter and lace from the last party better.”
Her cheeks redden. Is it anger? Embarrassment? Probably both.
“Stop bringing up that party. It was a mistake,” she says.
“Funny way to define a mistake,” I tease, running my thumbs in small circles at her waist. “Most people don’t kiss back so eagerly when they regret something.”
“I hate you,” she whispers, but the catch in her breath tells a different story.
“No, you don’t.” I pull her closer, keeping us away from Keith’s line of sight. “You hate how I make you feel... How I mess up your neat little life. How I make you want stuff you’ve been taught not to want.”
Her eyes widen, probably because she realizes I’m right, but she narrows them again in defiance. “You don’t know me, and you don’t know what I want.”
“I know you’re tired,” I say softly, leaning in. “Tired of being the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend, and the perfect student. You want someone who sees the real you.”
“And you think that’s you?” she scoffs, but I see doubt flickering in her eyes. “The arrogant hockey player stalking me across town and threatening to make a scene if I don’t dance with him?”
“I’m the only one who’s ever made you feel alive,” I say flat-out. “Admit it.”
She opens her mouth, then shuts it, her jaw tight, her eyes searching mine for a beat too long. Before she can answer, I spot Keith coming back from the kitchen with two drinks and scanning the room for Irina.
Perfect.
Without warning, I pull her tightly against me, closing the gap she’s been keeping. My hand slides to her lower back, pressing her close. I cup her face with the other, my thumb brushing her cheek like she’s mine.
“What are you—?” Her eyes snap to mine, startled.
Keith spots us, and I meet his gaze over her shoulder with a smile on my lips. Then I lean in like I’m about to kiss her, my lips hovering above hers but not quite touching. From Keith’s angle, I’m sure it looks like a real kiss.
When I glance at Keith again, his brows draw together, confusion flashing on his face, then his jaw tightens, his eyes blazing. I hold his gaze.
No shame, just a challenge.
The message is loud and clear. She’s mine. Always has been.
Keith slams the drinks down on a nearby table, spilling some, and storms toward the exit, shoving through the crowd like a madman.
“What did you do?” Irina asks, following my gaze. “Oh shit, did you just—?”
“Your boyfriend’s pissed,” I say with a smirk. “Looks like he’s not buying the just-friends story anymore.”
She shoves me hard, breaking away from me. “You planned this! You wanted to provoke him.”
“I just sped up the inevitable,” I say, not even pretending to be sorry. “A relationship built on duty and pretending wasn’t going to last anyway.”
“You had no right,” she snaps, her nostrils flaring. “This isn’t a game! This is my life you’re playing with.”
“Every game has stakes. The real question is, are you playing to win or just going through the motions for someone else?”
She stares at me, her jaw clenched, but something else is flickering beneath the surface. Without another word, she pushes through the crowd toward the exit.
