Page 71

“Stop running.” He whispers, voice rough against my ear. “Stop ignoring me.”

I scoff at the audacity. “Let me go.”

Fuck.

I hate him.

I hate him for making me feel this way. “You came here for me—”

“I didn’t.”

“Liar.” He whispers, his breath licking my skin ever so faintly, I suppress a shudder. “Are you jealous?”

“I said, let me go.”

“Does rage make you so blind that you came running just to get that girl off me?” His tongue darts out, tracing a slow path along the column of my neck.

I try to shrug him off with a shaky breath as he pins my wrists together behind my back.

“Take your hands off me. Stupidity is contagious.”

He snorts, a sharp chuckle escaping him. “Fuck, malyshka, you’re so hot.”

“And you’re an arsehole. What else is new?” I mutter, wrenching my hands free before turning to face him.

“Did you wear this dress for me?” His tongue drags across his lower lip as his gaze sweeps over me from head to toe, lingering just long enough on my chest to make my skin prickle.

He takes a slow step back before beginning to circle me. I hear a low hiss as he stops behind me, his eyes fixed on the open back of my dress.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans. When he steps back in front of me, his expression has softened. “You’re so beautiful.”

I am?

“I’m not your baby.” I glare at him, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Call your other girls baby.”

“What other girls?” He tries to mask his chuckle.

“The ones that are all over you. Wanting to fuck you.”

“And…” He leans down. “Do you want to fuck me?” His hands remain tucked inside his pockets.

“In your dreams, maybe.”

“Didn’t look like a dream when you were riding my cock yesterday.” He tilts his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “Dry humping me. Using me.”

Before I can come up with a retort, he catches my hand and tugs me towards the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” I protest.

“Shh.” He gently lifts my arms onto his shoulders.

“In my dreams,” he murmurs, “you’re not running from me.” His hands glide down my back before settling lightly at the curve of my waist.

His fingers touching the bare skin of my back, and he tugs me closer. “In my dreams, you’re mine.”

“A dream for a reason.” I chuckle but his smile vanishes.

He lets out a quiet sigh, turning his head to the side. His jaw ticks, a muscle feathering beneath his skin, as he sways me to the slow, sensual rhythm of strings and piano.