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“He has one thing going for him. He’s not pretending to like me.” She loops her arms around my neck, making her lips shine in the flicker of neon lights swirling across the dance floor. “Not all of us are happy alone. I want someone who makes me feel like I’m what they want, and not just a means of gettingit.”
Her words rockme.
I didn’t know she felt that way. I’d never pegged my best friend as feeling so alone, never thought of her wantingthat.
We took on the world together. Suddenly, I’m blaming myself for missingthis.
"Besides," she goes on, "he wouldn't have barged into a change room, not to mention tortured me while he wasthere."
My hands experimentally stroke up her back, finding bare skin above her dress. The jasmine scent of her skin is familiar and appealing. “You’re right. I’m not him. If you were really my girl and I found you in a dressing room wearing this, I wouldn't have untangledyou."
Her gaze comes back to mine. "Whynot?"
"Because you're the strongest woman I know, and I like watching you struggle because I know you'llwin."
I can’t read the emotions chasing one another across her face in the dark, but I wish to hell Icould.
"You overestimate my abilities with zippers," she says at last. "What if I couldn't getout?"
A ghost of a smile pulls on my lips. "I would've ripped the dress off you—slowly—and fucked you against that mirror until you didn’tcare.”
Daisy stops moving in myarms.
Knowing I caused that simple reaction sends a blaze of heat through me, one that has me aching to find out what would happen if I did just what Idescribed.
“Can I borrow your girlfriend?” Tris drawls from beside us, catching Daisy’s hand from around my neck and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. “I need to ask hersomething.”
"Get your own girl, Tris." I splay a hand possessively over her collarbone, the rise of her breast above thedress.
I half expect her to retort, but she’s quiet as my brother shoots a look of surprise between us. He's gone a moment later, and Daisy's hands find my shouldersagain.
Somehow she's closer now, and I'm wondering if she did it herself or whether my hand on her hip dragged her againstme.
When she speaks, her lips brush my cheek and send heat down my spine. “Was that retribution for what I said earlier about the bathbomb?”
“No. I’m collecting on thatnext.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. Her hands dig into my neck, the muscles that got tight when I wasn't payingattention.
“We agreed to make this look as real as possible,” I remind her. “And any woman I dated wouldn’t mock me in public the way you did withoutretribution.”
Her dark brows rise halfway to her hairline. “Don’t tell me your fragile ego can’t take it,” shetaunts.
“I can take everything you have to give,” I promise. “But that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be retribution if you were mygirl.”
The lights in the club are dim, but I swear her eyes flash with heat. “If we were dating for real, I’d remind you I don’t belong to anyone butmyself.”
I stroke my thumb along the line of her jaw. “And I’d make you wish you werewrong.”
If I thought Daisy would come back at me with fire, it’s my turn to be caught offguard.
Her lashes lower, and the next second, she’s studying my mouth as if she can’t decide where to tape itshut…
Or maybe ask me to put it onher.
This was about putting on a show for our friends and maybe proving a point too. But the point gets lost when I make good on my threat, burying my fingers in her hair and dragging her lips up tomine.
She's warm and soft and unexpectedly delicious. The scent of jasmine blurs with the flavor of her drink on herlips.
