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“What? No.” I shake my head for added emphasis. “We are friends.”
Graham’s fierce eyes force mine into a hold. “When’s the last time you took a man?”
What.
The.
Hell.
“Come again?”
To the prom? To the movies? To a charity gala?
“Angie. You know precisely what I mean. Quit playing games.”
“I’m not the one playing games.” I continue to move to the music, although my heart isn’t able to maintain the slow rhythm. It feels like it will beat out of my chest.
“The last time you fucked someone? Ballpark estimate is fine. You already mentioned your ex, Russell. So summer?”
As soon as the words reach my ears, I gasp in shock, quickly diverting my eyes around the dance floor to see if anyone showed any signs of overhearing his crude question.
“Excuse me? Are you really doing this right now? Right here?”
“Do you really need me to repeat the question?”
My head shakes involuntarily. “And how is this any of your concern?” I ask boldly.
A slower, more intimate song starts to play. I’ve completely lost track of how many songs we have danced. I pull away and get the urge to leave this inappropriate conversation. I do not want to talk about this. Not now.
Hands pull me to taut muscles, and I am enveloped in an iron casing of arms. The tightness of his body makes the tension rise in my shoulders, all the way up to my neck.
We are so close, I can feel his hardness push against my lower abdomen. He smiles down at me as my expression changes on my face to enlighten him that I feel his erection. How could I not feel it? The rigid length is pressed up against his suit pants, straining to spring free. Realization hits me that he wants me to feel it. He is being deliberately flirtatious and forward. And fuckable. I pull away from his hips to keep from grinding against his cock with every small movement. His hands grip my waist and prevent me from putting space between us.
“Everything you seem to be doing concerns me. You have me intrigued, Miss McFee,” he whispers into the shell of my ear.
Wait.
Did he just lick my lobe? I jerk back a little at the dampness that chills and excites my body, sending pulsating blood throughout my limbs. Yes, he most definitely licked me.
“I’m not buying what you're selling,” I state simply, trying my best to express disinterest.
“Isn’t that ironic?”
“Shut up, you arrogant bastard.” One more jab at my job and he will be wearing the imprint of my fist instead of a smirk.
“You are quite sexy when you’re mad.”
“And you are quite annoying when you miss social cues.”
His chuckle makes me even more flustered. He’s enjoying this, that much is obvious.
“Yes, give me feisty. I can handle it.”
“Quit saying things like that to me.” I try to sound convincing.
“And the question I need an answer to,” he starts, completely ignoring my plea, “is a gauge for me to see how slow I need to go with you.”
“You do not need to go anywhere with me.”
