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She rolled her eyes, knowing full well he wasn’t even looking at her but behind her at Mitchell. If the man had turned around or not, she didn’t know, and she wasn’t going to peek.
“Better make it good.”
“Best you’ve ever had.” He opened his arms and beckoned her in close.
Now she had no doubt Mitchell was watching her. The back of her neck prickled from the gaze she would always be able to identify.
Alistair wrapped his arms around her and dipped his face to hers.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling. That man looks like he’s about to give himself a heart attack. Or a stroke. Then again, he could be planning how he’s going to kill me and dispose of my body in this frozen wasteland.”
“Are you saying you don’t want the kiss?”
His grin was pure sin. “Fuck no, I want it. I’m letting you know he’s not happy.”
She shrugged. “It’s a singles mixer.”
“So it is.” He tightened his hold on her, bringing her in close and putting their lips millimeters apart. “Hope Roman?”
“Yes?” She didn’t struggle against his hold but she wasn’t affected by it either. All Mitchell had to do was look at her and she felt her response pulse through her, like her heart pumped it through her veins. This, with Alistair, was nothing more than fun.
“I’m going to dip you and kiss you now.”
She gripped his arms, automatically comparing their size to Mitchell’s. While Alistair had strength, he had nothing on the basketball player who spent an inordinate amount of time on his computer.
Alistair did exactly as he promised. Dipped her so they weren’t facing Mitchell. He held her there, eyes locked on hers as his lips brushed ever so lightly along hers. That was it. Even though he kept them in that position for a lot longer—until the catcalls and whistles reached a pinnacle.
He gave her a wink and drew his head back with a loud smack as he placed her upright on her feet.
“I love being the recipient of winning kisses,” he tossed out as he bowed to the cheering that still continued. “Best. Kiss. Ever.”
Mitchell was the only one who wasn’t joining in. The man stood there, watching her, and this time the fire in his eyes wasn’t passion. She yanked her gaze from his and smiled over to Alistair who still basked in the attention. Taking his hand in hers, she bowed along with him.
A few others sat down to play some cards and David, who had been by Mitchell, stayed put as the man strode closer to her, his face a mask she couldn’t read. Tension rolled off him but his expression remained etched in stone.
“Playing with fire, Flykra.”
“Having fun.”
He bent his head. “You were much more flushed from the kiss we shared. I’ll prove it to you later.” He walked off.
Hope closed her eyes and struggled to find her breath.
Playing with fire? Hah! That was a laugh. She was directly in the path of a river of lava and the problem was, even knowing it would burn, she wasn’t running to safety. Self-preservation was suddenly an unknown.
Chapter Ten
Anger burned through Mitchell as he leaned against a wall and watched Hope pick out some food for lunch as she joked with Wendy and Sonya. God, simply seeing her in Alistair’s arms had been enough to push him to a place he didn’t believe another woman would ever get him.
It didn’t make sense. Even when he had learned the depth of Shawnee’s deceit and betrayal, he’d been mad, but not jealous. Mad because he’d fallen for her lines and had believed she gave a fuck about him. This right now with Hope? Nothing but pure jealousy.
It burned him, and not in a good way. The furthest thing from good. One of the nine circles of Hell. Lust because that tore through him. Gluttony because he would never get enough. And violence because the other men looking at her incited that in him. The flames ate through his chest and stomach like acid. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard and he really, really longed to kiss Hope to wipe away the taste and any miniscule memory of Alistair she might have.
Fuck!
Not what he should be thinking. Because when he thought about the way the man had bent her back, all he could wonder was if his tongue had dipped in her mouth. Had he been privileged to taste the sweetness Mitchell wasn’t above claiming as his own?
This woman had screwed him up in the head. She wasn’t pushing for anything. But he wanted everything.
God, even the sound of her laughter drove contentment through him. And he craved more. Once she picked a spot to sit, he thrust from the wall and made his way toward her. Prowled like a predator stalking his prey. Which made sense. He was hunting her. Alistair had been on his way in her direction, but Mitchell shot the man a glare anyone should be able to interpret.
