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“I should go too.” Jess got to her feet, looking adorably rumpled, and hugged us both. Patrick patted her lightly on the back — probably not what she meant when she said he gave the best hugs — and she disappeared across the lawn.
I expected Patrick to take me straight to Kappa Sig and order me onto my hands and knees. Instead, he led me toward the stage, where we jostled into the mesh of people.
“You want todancewith me?” I yelled over the music. He nodded. He didn’t stop at the edge of the crowd; he took me right to the center. Elbows and knees bumped us, but people made room for Patrick.
Our bodies fit together so well. I wrapped my arms around his broad back. He rested his forehead on top of my hair. Moving my hips, I stared into his eyes, pale crystal in the spotlights from the stage.
“So you do know how to have fun,” I murmured.
“You’re a good dancer. I like the way you move.”
“And you’re not terrible.”
His laugh rumbled through my body, and he pulled me closer. Sweet Lord, he was hard. His hands curled into my hips, holding me tight against him.
“Oh, I’m terrible, all right. I can’t dance.”
“You’re feeling the music. That’s all that matters.”
I put my hand on the back of his neck. His skin was cool. But when I slid my thumb over the vein above his collarbone, it throbbed under my touch.
“You’re so nice,” I whispered.
He nuzzled my earlobe, teeth sharp like a touch of static. “No, I’m not.”
“You are. I’m so happy right now.”
A smile hovered on his lips like it couldn’t decide whether to land. “That’s because of your friend Marcus.”
I hugged him around his neck. “Uh-uh. It’s because of you.”
We pulled apart and came back together, the music pulsing between us. His lips brushed my ear again.
“I’m happy too.”
“Oh?” I batted my eyelashes. “Thank Marcus.”
“No, Christina. Thank you.”
The lawn spun around us and stretched out. His mouth was suddenly close. Without a thought, I kissed him.
Teeth caught my lower lip in a swift bite. His tongue was alive. Hungry. A burning coal. I raked my nails down his shoulders, trying to tear his shirt to the skin beneath. He wrenched me out of the kiss, his hand wrapped around my hair, gone from playful to feral in a heartbeat.
Maybe people were staring. I didn’t look. I didn’t care.
“You want this?” he growled.
“Yes.”
“In public?”
My answer caught in my throat. “Doyou?”
He tugged my hair slowly, firmly, the movement tight and controlled, tipping my head back to expose my throat. “I have no problem with everyone knowing what a little slut you are, as long as you’re doing it with me.”
Shock and arousal washed over me. He couldn’t be serious. Patrick might not give a shit what other people thought, but he was a private person — intensely so. Yet I remembered that cold voice the night he turned out the lights:try me.
It was hard to breathe. This was crazy. We needed to get out of here and sober up, and — his rules. They were about to be broken.My room, my way.Those rules were crumbling now; I could feel it.
