When we make eye contact, he motions with his fi**ger for me to join him, so I do, but instead of taking a seat next to him, I straddle him and sit directly on his lap. His hands fall to my h*ps, and he w*ts his l*ps as he stares at me.
“You know . . .” I trail my fi**gers up his stark black sh**t. “You never actually told me happy birthday.”
In probably the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard, he says, “Happy birthday, Oliana.”
“That’s better,” I say while I move my fi**ger to the open part of his shirt. “So you invited some of your guys to join us?”
“I did.”
“And did you do that so you can touch me without having to hold back?”
His jaw grows tight.
“Because you know, you’re free to touch me whenever you want. You don’t need people around to do it.”
His jaw ticks before he says, “I invited them to fill up the space in here, and I know they’d want to celebrate after the win. Plus, it seemed like Ross was really interested in Ian.”
“He is. You should have seen him.” I run my fi**ger over Silas’s pec. “He was a true fanboy out there. Pretty sure I witnessed a hockey fan being born tonight. And he made friends with the guy next to us, even exchanged numbers so they can talk hockey. I can’t wait to see how he acts when Ian gets here. That was sweet of you.”
“I’m sure Ian will be happy about it too.” His hand comes up to my rib cage. “Were you going to go out in this without me?”
“Yes,” I answer unapologetically. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“I shouldn’t,” he says, his thumb r*bbing along my skin.
“But you do.”
“Yeah, I do.”
His eyes connect with mine, and I just smile at him. “Well, good thing this is a fake arrangement, right? Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.”
Ross enters the VIP section along with the server, who drops off our drinks. Silas didn’t order alcohol, just a seltzer water with lime, while Ross and I both ordered c**ktails.
I hop off Silas’s lap and say, “Let’s go dance, Ross.”
He glances at Silas almost as if he’s looking for permission, but I hand him his drink before he can give it. I loop my arm through his and pull him through the curtained area and out onto the dance floor.
“That man is going to eat you up tonight,” Ross says before taking a very large sip of his drink.
“Doubtful,” I say, taking an equally large sip so my drink doesn’t spill when I start dancing. “He won’t act on it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Ross says, glancing over my shoulder. “He’s staring you down right now.”
“Good. Let him stare.”
“So is this something you want? Because the k**s I witnessed in the hallway was more than some fake k**s.”
“Tell me about it. Everything feels so real with him, but he won’t admit to it. He won’t let himself cross that line, and I’m so frustrated with him that I’m ready to piss him off.”
“Oh, like you pissed him off at his sponsor event?”
“Exactly,” I say. “He wants me. I know he does, but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, and that’s infuriating. So, let’s see how he feels when I dance with other people.”
“Ollie, please, for the love of God, don’t get the man thrown in jail. It won’t look good for him.”
“I won’t. I’m just going to help him realize exactly what he’s missing out on.”
“I’ll pray for his safety tonight.”
I start moving to the beat as I say, “It’s my birthday, and guess what, Ross? I deserve a freaking treat. And that treat is sitting over there in that VIP section, watching my every move.”
“He truly is . . . like a lion stalking his prey.”
“Good, let’s hope he strikes.”
************************************
SILAS
I dig my fi**gers into the couch for the tenth time in five minutes as I watch Ollie grind against Ross. All I can think about is how I wish it was me. How I wish I had my hand p**ssing into her stomach, keeping her close to me, letting her do all of the work.
But my head is screaming at me no.
I’m not in a position to start anything with her.
Not when I’m still struggling with how Sarah broke me.
Not with the new season.
And especially not with the way I want to physically claim her until she can’t f**king walk.
“Are you really in here alone?” Posey asks as he steps into the VIP section with Holmes and Rivers.
“Yeah,” I answer, though I keep my eyes ahead, watching Ollie.
“Why? Your girl is out on the dance floor. Don’t you want to dance with her?” Posey asks, taking a seat.
“She’s having fun. I’m not going to wreck that.” I glance at Holmes and say, “Surprised to see you here.”
“He’s attempting to get a certain someone out of his head,” Posey says.
“Dude, come on,” Holmes bem**ns. “You said you weren’t going to say anything about her.”
“I just mentioned it, nothing more.” Posey lifts a bottle of beer to his l*ps that he must have grabbed on his way in here.
“I told him to go for it,” Rivers says. “Holmes is a catch. You’re telling me she wouldn’t choose you over some other guy?”
“She won’t,” Holmes says as he sinks into his chair and lifts his beer as well. The server appears at that moment and brings the boys more bottles.
When she stands tall, she says, “There are some girls who want to come join you boys. Would you like me to let them in?”
“In a second,” Posey says.
When the server leaves, I raise my brow at him. “Getting into trouble tonight?”
“Celebrating our first victory,” he replies. “And attempting to find a girl for Holmes. Rivers, you’re on your own, bud.”
“Actually, Ollie’s good friend Ross is interested,” I say just as I look out toward the dance floor and catch a guy grinding into Ollie.
Red-hot anger flashes through my body in seconds, and I find myself standing just as Ross filters in. “Hey,” he says. “Uh, who all is here?”
I don’t even bother with introductions. I blow right by him and head toward the dance floor. He’s outgoing enough to fend for himself.
I have one thing on my mind, and it’s to get that f**ker off Ollie immediately.
Not that it really matters, but Sarah’s betrayal was private, unseen—thank f**k. But if Ollie is photographed with another guy so soon into our “relationship”, it will be very, very public.
Let’s be real, Silas. This has nothing to do with paparazzi.
Okay, Ollie might not be mine, but she isn’t going to be someone else’s, that’s for damn sure.
Mine.
My fists clutch at my sides, my jaw is so tight I think I might crack a molar, and with every step I take forward, I feel myself growing angrier and angrier until I reach them and tug on the guy’s arm, pulling him away.
“Silas,” Ollie says in shock.
“Dude, what the—hey, you’re Silas Taters.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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