“Good to hear,” she said, patting him on the arm. Man, the kid’s biceps were bigger than her thigh.
The conversation continued, but Hayden had a hard time concentrating with Brody standing so close to her. Why did he have to smell so fucking good?
“Brody, can we get a quick photo?” one of the event photographers called out.
Brody glanced over. “Of course.” He turned back to Presley and the others. “Excuse me. This will be just a moment.”
The quick photo turned into ten minutes of pictures, including several shots with a swimsuit model in attendance. The girl was tall, blond and had huge boobs accentuated by the plunging vee of her red dress. She and Brody, both ridiculously attractive, looked good together, and Hayden felt her shoulders stiffening as the thought registered.
She forced her muscles to relax. Nope. She refused to be jealous. So what if he had his arm around a beautiful model? He wasn’t her boyfriend.
When he returned, Brody surprised her by extending a hand to her. He spoke in a polite tone. “Would you like to dance?” He gestured to the shiny floor in the center of the room. Large tables adorned with ornate centerpieces ringed the dance floor.
“Oh.” She hesitated, aware of her father’s sharpening gaze. “Um. Sure.”
They kept about three feet of distance between them as they left the group. Walking to the dance floor, Hayden could feel her father’s disapproving eyes on them the entire time. Brody, however, seemed unfazed.
“Behave,” she warned under her breath.
He held out his hand. “Where’s the fun in that?”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. Then she took his hand, while raising her other one to his broad shoulder.
His palm rested loosely over her hip as he pulled her closer, his voice a low whisper against her ear. “Think they can tell I want to fuck you senseless right now?”
Her pussy clenched. “Oh, my God. Don’t say things like that.”
“Why? Does it turn you on?”
“Obviously,” she hissed, and he chuckled in response.
Hayden sighed, her fingers tracing circles on his back. The dimly lit ballroom provided some cover, but the watchful eyes of reporters and curious onlookers made her tread carefully.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice, by the way,” Brody said in amusement.
“Notice what?”
“The way you were looking at me and Bella Dawson.” He quirked a brow. “Jealousy looks cute on you, Professor.”
“I was not jealous,” she grumbled.
“Liar.”
“Ha. I think you want me to be jealous. For your ego.”
“Want to know what I think?” Brody’s lips dipped near her ear again.
“Even if I said no, I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“Obviously,” he mimicked. He spun her around, then wrapped his arm around her waist again. “I think—” he gave her another spin “—you should meet me in the supply closet next to the coat check room in...let’s say ten minutes?”
Hayden narrowed her eyes. “How do you know there’s a supply closet there?”
“How do you think? I scouted it out before I walked in here.”
She laughed, but the humor transformed into a jolt of heat when she saw the look in his eyes. “Oh, you’re being serious.”
“As a heart attack.” His gaze was practically molten. “I haven’t seen you all week. I need to be inside you.”
Her thighs involuntarily clenched. “And you can’t wait until later?”
“Can you?” he challenged.
The hungry eyes raking over her triggered another rush of desire. The ache between her legs deepened. Her nipples beaded against the bodice of her dress, which wasn’t ideal considering she wasn’t wearing a bra. Brody, of course, was quick to notice.
“Fuck. I can see your nipples.” He let out a husky groan. “Ten minutes?”
Hayden knew she ought to say no. They were at a Warriors event. Her father might notice her absence if—she almost snorted at the thought. No, her father would not notice. He was so absorbed with himself and his team that he wouldn’t have any idea if she left this gala and never returned.
“Ten minutes,” she blurted out.
With a grin, he released her, and they headed in opposite directions. Hayden went back to her father, while Brody joined a group of Warriors players. She noticed one of them eyeing her. A tall man with rugged features and dark hair. She recognized him from last night’s playoff game against Colorado. She didn’t remember his first name, but his surname was Becker. And she could swear he was frowning when their gazes briefly met.
The next eight minutes ticked by interminably slow. Hayden’s pulse was racing, her feet eager to sprint toward the exit.
But she played it cool as she lightly touched her father’s arm and said, “I need to use the ladies’ room. Be right back.”
Rather than take the corridor that led to the restrooms, she turned the corner and headed toward coat check instead. Her heart pounded faster with each step, and by the time she reached the door marked Supplies, it was careening out of control. She glanced around the hallway making sure it was still empty, then pushed on the handle and crept into the cramped space.
