Of course, then he says things like that and I remember everything about tonight is an illusion. Grumpy rich assholes can be good with kids and awful with everyone else.
Nathan’s hands slip lower on my back, almost brushing my ass for the third time since this song started playing.
“Touch my butt one more time. Go ahead. I dare you,” I say, pressing my cheek to his chest.
“It’s a great ass.”
“It’s an off-limits ass.”
“You didn’t have to wear a thong.”
I pull back, my brows lifted into twin stop signs. “I see. You’re one of those men.”
Nathan slides his hands a few inches towards safety. “And what kind of man do you think I am?”
“One who blames a woman’s clothing for his lack of self-control. A proud member of the ‘she asked for it’ crew.”
He stops in his tracks. “A man is responsible for his actions. Always.” His eyes are intense as they hold mine and there’s a flicker of something dancing in my belly.
Something that feels like we’re having a moment.
And I’m not interested in having moments with Nathan West.
So, I do the only reasonable thing. I slide myself back into his arms, press my body against his, then take both his butt cheeks in my hands and squeeze.
He jumps. Yelps. Then pulls back and now it’s his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Just in case what you said was bullshit, I thought you’d like a turn at feeling objectified.”
Nathan shakes his head and laughs lightly.
“What was that?” I ask, dropping my jaw in astonishment.
“What was what?”
“That sound you just made.”
“I didn’t make a sound.”
“You did. From anyone else, I’d say it was laughter, but I didn’t know The Prince of Darkness knew how to do that.”
“Very funny,” Nathan replies in a voice lacking the sarcastic edge I’ve come to know and hate.
“You should do that more. It’s, uh, well it’s very appealing.” A blush burns across my cheeks. Did I really say that? Out loud?
“I’ll take that under advisement.” His gaze slips over my shoulder, and when his eyes meet mine, there’s a spark of something I don’t have a name for. “My cousins are staring.”
“Good?”
“Just warning you what’s about to happen.” Nathan reaches for me, lightly drawing his finger down the side of my face and along my neckline. His touch is gentle yet electric, sending shockwaves through every inch of my body. His fingers whisper across my skin, lower, lower, until they rest just above the swell of my breasts.
I’m shocked.
I’m speechless.
I should be outraged, no, I am outraged but I’m hypnotized as he moves closer, then closer still. Our lips are almost touching. My senses captured. I’m surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and whisky and the musk of his skin. Surprisingly, I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all.
Eyes on my mouth, he tilts his head and thank God for small miracles, I snap out of whatever spell he’s cast on me before I allow him to do something we’ll both regret. I am so not ready to be kissed by The Prince of Darkness.
I turn my face and press my cheek to his chest, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and holding him close while I catch my breath…
Only I can’t.
Not with his dick thickening, lengthening, and pressing against me, a long line of warmth neither of us can ignore.
No matter how much we might want to.
Nathan dances us into a dark corner, out of the middle of the room, then steps back. We stare for several long moments, my chest heaving, his eyes heavy and hooded and filled with something that sets my heart racing.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I had a lot to drink.”
“Me too.” I swallow hard. “I mean, obviously that’s the only way something…like that…would happen.” I glance pointedly at his crotch, which sends my libido into a happy dance of expectation, then drag my focus back to his face. I thought that would be safer ground, but it’s not. The heat in his gaze threatens to light me ablaze.
Nathan frowns. His jaw tightens. Brows furrow. “Obviously,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Listen, I—”
“Wilhelmina!” booms a familiar voice. “You are the last person I expected to see in Nathan’s arms. After our conversation this morning?” I turn to see Mason Channing, drink in hand, sunshine engaged.
It might be the first time I’m not happy to see him.
“You know I’m just plain Mina,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as discombobulated as I feel.
“Not in that dress.” Mason flares his hands like the statement is obvious. “So, which is it? My cousin’s an asshole? Or you’re dating?”
“Both,” I say with a shaky laugh and a glance at Nathan, whose face is maddeningly unreadable.
After tonight, I know one thing for sure:
I don’t know the real Nathan West.
THIRTEEN
Nathan
The party ends, I sober up, and drive Mina back to her car. All in all, the evening didn’t go too badly. Hot Mess Express or not, Mina Blake is beautiful. She wears the hell out of that red dress. It begs my hands to explore every curve. Her smile is a gentle white wine, a light rain after a scorching summer day. Her rich black hair hangs straight and shines like moonlit midnight over water. Her lips are candy, sweet and baited.
I want to taste them. And damn it, I almost did. Worse, I’m disappointed I didn’t.
There’s something to her. Something I didn’t expect.
