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“You looked like you were having fun. I didn’t want to bother you,” I shout over the music, holding her waist with my hands. “I was watching your ass sway, imagining sliding my cock between those legs, and now, my jeans are too fucking tight.”
Giving me a little smirk, she spins around, poking her ass up against my crotch and making me hiss with need.
God, she’s sexy.
She cranes her neck up to look at me, pursing her lips like she wants a kiss. So, I don’t make her wait. I bend down, planting one on her before my tongue teases hers, making my cock stir even more.
When she pulls back, continuing to push her ass up against me as her hips move to the rhythm, I feel a set of eyes on me. Searching around, I spot big blue eyes watching me from the other side of the dance floor.
Sutton.
It’s been days since I saw her in the library, the day when her laser eyes damn near burned a hole in me. She hates me—that’s a given.
She doesn’t smile; instead, she narrows her eyes slightly as she continues to dance with whatever moron she’s grinding against. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail instead of a bun. And her white tank top glows against her tanned skin, low enough for me to see the sheer layer of sweat covering her skin like a blanket.
I have everything I’ve ever wanted in my arms. But, yeah, someone like Sutton Savage makes it hard to not at least look.
Her body moves effortlessly. Almost like it’s easier for her to dance than it is for her to stand still. I want to look away. Ineedto look away. But, Christ, I’m entranced by this she-devil.
I’m a piece of shit for letting Paige grind her ass on me while I’m staring at Sutton. And there’s no denying the weird fucking tension between us right now even though I know it’s wrong.
After blinking a few times, she seems to snap back to reality, and her eyes are the first to break contact. Looking away from me, she pays attention solely to the man in front of her. She moves on him in a way that if they weren’t wearing clothes, I’d suggest the day-after pill tomorrow morning.
Paige reaches her hand behind her back and runs her fingers over the hard lump through my jeans, and I swallow hard. Wanting to get her the hell off this dance floor and away from this crowd.
Because I know damn well that she’s coming home with me tonight.
But now, I’m wondering why the fuck I keep asking myself who’s going home with Sutton. Why do I care?
I don’t. I definitely, fucking certainly don’t.
Sutton
Sweaty and smelly, Ryann and I head into the house after a few hours of dancing and flirting.
I found a pretty good dance partner, but when he asked if I wanted to come over, I respectfully said hell to the no. It had been fun while it lasted, and we’d had some nice moments, but that was over, and there was no way in hell I was going home with him.
Hunter, on the other hand, walked out, looking extra cozy with Paige. I have to give it to her; I didn’t know she could dance that dirty, and I found myself impressed. It’s clear they have chemistry in the way they move and interact with each other. He’s comfortable with her, and she basically owns him. It’s also obvious that he’s missing her. Only a fool wouldn’t see that.
But it makes me feel bad for him, knowing that his parents ruined their relationship—almost. Then again, they did her a favor. Who would want to marry into a family like that?
There was a look in his eyes when he watched me dance. I’m not even sure what it was. All I know is, if I hadn’t looked away, I’m not sure he would have. I felt his eyes on every inch of my body. I’ll never say it out loud…but I didn’t hate it. But I do hate that I didn’t.
It’s a weird feeling, knowing he and I are connected through hate. And enemies shouldn’t look at each other like that. It’s not normal.
After brushing my teeth, I wash my face and take my hair down. Tomorrow is a full day of classes and dance. Even though I know I need rest, when I lie down in bed, I can’t help but wonder what Hunter and Paige are doing. And then, for some stupid reason, I feel the smallest bit annoyed, knowing damn well what that is.
I’ve never given a shit before. Why now?
5
Hunter
As Coach finishes explaining what he signed us up for, all the guys and I stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Right now, I’m wondering if he has.
“So, the ten names I just said are the players I’ve chosen to do this.” He tucks his clipboard under his arm. “I know this isn’t your cup of tea. But it’s for charity. And for that, I need you to just pretend for a few measly practices that you’re Magic Mike.” He pauses. “The uglier, non-stripper version, that is.”
“Dancing? With ballerinas? Coach, you’re shitting me,” Link groans. “I’m sure Tate’s going to love this.”
