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I’m staring and she must be able to sense it because she slowly turns her head to look at me, her eyes finding mine. That’s when I see she’s talking to Forrest and his parents… of course she is. My stomach burns. I want to march over to her, drag her to a private area, and ask her why she insists on being obstinate, but I play it cool. I tip my head toward her, then walk slowly over to the bar.
“Whiskey, neat,” I say to the bartender. A moment later, Presley wanders up to my side.
“Good evening, Mr. Gates.”
I take a long sip of the whiskey, savoring the burn that glides down and unfurls in my chest.
“Evening, Miss Presley. You look beautiful. Drink?” I want to linger on the compliment, tell her she looks stunning, mouthwatering, sexier than any woman I’ve ever seen. Then I want to drag her out of this building and take her home where I can slowly peel the dress from her body and devour her.
She shakes her head no, smiling politely. “Not when I’m working. And thank you, you look very handsome.” Her cheeks look rosy and her eyes dart from me down to her feet.
We’re in a room full of people yet instantly, the second my eyes settle on her, it feels like we’re alone. I want to step closer to her, to push the silky curls away from her neck and softly trail my lips over her tempting skin.
“Is there a reason you disregarded my instruction about Wes picking you up this evening?”
“I didn’t agree to being picked up. In fact, I told you previously I would meet you here and I expected my wishes to be respected. This is a work function; my boss doesn’t give me a ride to work every day, so this is no different.”
I roll my eyes. I want to tell her to cut the shit and ask her how the view is on her high horse.
“How soon can I leave?”
“You just got here.” Her head swivels around to look at me.
“Exactly and I don’t plan on staying a second longer than I have to.”
“Your speech is the first thing tonight so once that’s over, I’d like to have you speak with a few people and mingle, please.” She reaches for my glass. “And try to keep this to a minimum.”
“You met the parents already, I see.” I tried not to bring it up but I’m petty.
“Forrest’s parents? Yes, they’re lovely people and I think you should go spend a few moments with them as well.”
I reach out and snatch the glass of whiskey back from her. She attempts to reach for it again, but I grab her arm and hold it while I tip the glass back and finish it in one swallow.
“Seriously?”
“If I have to be here, I might as well make it fun. Shall we?” I say, motioning toward the floor to go mingle. She takes a step, and I place my hand at her lower back. The second my fingertips touch her skin, I know it’s a mistake because now, it’s all I’m going to be focused on this entire evening.
Every time I’m talking to someone, I’m not really listening. I’m too lost, focused on who is keeping Presley’s attention. If it’s not Forrest, it’s some other man making her laugh or offering her a drink. I’ve already had three whiskeys, which doesn’t affect me too much—I’m a big man and I can handle my liquor—but I grab a bottle of water and chug it before my speech.
I watch Presley graciously introduce me. You wouldn’t know that she’s pissed at me by the way she’s smiling. Her bright eyes are sparkling, her alabaster skin glowing. Her lips are a deep red tonight, her cleavage begging me to run my tongue over it. Looking at her, the almost unbearable desire that’s coursing through me right now feels hopeless. Like I know it’s only a matter of time before I snap. I’ve never craved a woman like I do her. This feeling of jealousy, of wanting to spend time with her, to get to know her is more than just lust… and it’s starting to scare me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cyrus Gates.” The room erupts in applause as I walk onto the stage. For as much as I hate this shit, I care about this organization and I’m more than willing to kiss these people’s asses if it means they’ll donate.
I’m finishing up my speech when out of the corner of my eye I see Peter Frisk. He’s wormed his way through the crowd and sidled up beside Presley.
“Thank you.” I finish the speech and try to exit the stage quickly, but it’s no use. A few people surround me and I’m stuck answering questions. I watch as he flirts with her, his hand resting gently on her arm as he leans in to speak with her. I turn my attention back to Denise and Paul Devry who have made their way over to me with Forrest.
“Our son tells us he’s about to interview you for The Review.” They smile like two proud parents should, looking at their son, then back to me.
“Yes, he is”—I reach my hand out to Paul—“you’ve got a great son here. Very driven and sharp, you both did well.”
Denise smiles widely, her eyes almost tearful as she rubs her son’s arm. “We are so proud of him. He really looks up to you. He was so ecstatic when he found out you were going to be his professor this semester.”
I glance over Paul’s shoulder and see Peter leading Presley onto the dance floor.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“I apologize,” I say. “I need to go take care of something. Pleasure meeting you both and I would love to talk more later.”
