12. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
CHARLOTTE
T he second I spot Chris smugly staring at me from across the room, I see red.
I excuse myself, telling Danger there’s something I need to take care of before I storm off. My sights are set on Chris and he turns, listening intently to something one of the guys is saying and pretending that I’m not currently en route to kill him, even though he literally just waved at me.
“Can I have a word?” I grind out, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt and yanking him from the room toward the hall where the bathroom is.
“Damn, Lettie. I know you’re happy to see me, but cornering me in the bathroom? That’s a little forward, even for you.”
“Cut the shit, Collins,” I snap, spinning around and pinning him with a look that could kill. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“What?” I blink, distracted by the scent of citrus and cedar coming from his skin. He’s like a walking cologne commercial, and I can’t say I hate it.
He nods toward the living room. “You were looking awfully cozy over there.”
“First of all, we weren’t?” I shake my head. “It’s none of your business.”
“Okay, but that guy, Lettie. Really? He’s not even your type.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, really. And what’s my type? Please, enlighten me.”
“I’m glad you asked.” He flashes me a lazy smile, his gaze sinking to my mouth as my heart does a traitorous little flip.
“Whatever you’re going to say, save it,” I say, raising a hand to stop him. “Danger is exactly my type.”
“Hold up!” Chris splutters, eyes sparkling as I pinch my mouth together, knowing I screwed up the moment I told him Mason’s nickname. “His name is Danger ?”
“Technically, it’s his last name, but so?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Chris tips his head back and laughs, a big rip-roaring belly laugh that makes me want to throat punch him.
I jab him in the gut instead, but it backfires. My knuckles bounce right off his abs like they’re made of steel. “It’s not funny.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” Chris grins. “His name is pretty fucking funny. I mean, can you even picture introducing him to your father? ‘Dad, meet Danger. Danger, meet Dad.’”
“As opposed to you? ‘Oh Dad, meet Chris. Remember him? Your soon-to-be stepson.’ ”
Chris’s smile fades, and I stand a little taller.
“So, how exactly is he your type?” He nods to where Danger’s now talking with one of his friends. “Because I’m not seeing it.”
“He’s hot and athletic for one. Not to mention, a really decent guy.”
“Hello?” Chris motions toward himself, and I roll my eyes. As much as I want to crack a joke about him not being decent, I can’t. Everything I know about Chris Collins tells me he’s actually a ridiculously good guy.
“What sport does he play? Golf?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“You know damn well what sport he plays if you’re at this party.” I scoff. But Chris just stands there, his expression expectant. “Soccer. He plays soccer,” I say, even though I know it’s a trap.
“Soccer?” He snickers. “You want a dude who kicks a ball down the fucking field with his feet?”
I guffaw. “Versus cradling one in his arms?”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Football is the most macho, harshest contact sport there is with the exception of maybe rugby, which we don’t even have in the States.”
I grin, lifting a hand and inspecting my nails, then buff them against my shirt. “All I know is I have every intention of seeing if he lives up to his name”?I lift my gaze to him?“in other ways.”
Red blooms in the apples of his cheeks as the muscle in his jaw ticks. “Okay, fine.” His eyes flash with something dangerous as prowls toward me until I’m pressed against the wall.
One long, muscled arm rises above my head while the other braces against the wall at my side, caging me in. His head dips, perilously close to mine. “Tell me with a straight face that you find Soccer Guy sexier than me,” he says, his deep voice rumbling beneath the surface of my skin, “and I swear to god, Lettie, I’ll leave you alone.”
My heart pounds against my chest, a restless war drum summoning soldiers into battle as my gaze drops to his mouth, and he grins.
Wrong move.
Shit. I’m losing control of the situation, my battle for the upper hand.
I try for a laugh, but it comes out strangled. “I don’t find you sexy at all.”
I meet his icy gaze, and he laughs. “Bullshit.”
One corner of my mouth tips. “I said what I said, Collins, and I meant it.”
“So, if I did this . . .” He slides his fingers up my neck and over the curve of my jaw, finding my mouth and dragging the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “Or this . . .” He leans down, brushing the softest of kisses over the corner of my mouth while my heart riots. “Or this . . .” He nips playfully at my lower lip, and I nearly gasp. “You’d say it has zero effect on you? None, whatsoever?”
The breath wheezes in and out of my lungs, a worn-out engine struggling to keep up.
My back straightens like a steel rod as I try and ground myself. “Nope. None,” I say, voice shaking.
His lips quirk, eyes glittering like sunshine rippling over the surface of a lake. A sound of disbelief rumbles in the back of his throat while his gaze is focused on my mouth once more. “Really? No effect at all?” he asks.
The blood in my veins hum, the muscle in the center of my chest struggling with the demand to keep up. But I’m nothing if not stubborn, so I square my shoulders and force my voice to remain steady when I say, “Like I said, I felt nothing. Face it, Collins,” I sneer, “you have zero effect on me. Maybe when you learn how to kiss, you can?”
Chris’s mouth crashes into mine, his lips hot and insistent, needy and demanding, as he coaxes my mouth apart and swallows my gasp.
With a press of his hips to my stomach and a brush of the tongue, my knees go weak.
Fireworks explode inside my chest when a feral growl rumbles in the back of his throat as he kisses me even harder.
My arms fall limp at my side like noodles, and my knees grow weak. Much more, and I’ll be nothing but a puddle of Jell-O he’ll have to scoop off the floor.
Beside us someone clears their throat, but it’s as if I’m hearing it through a dream. Nothing can penetrate the headiness of this kiss or the heat of this moment. No one can stop the fire building in my chest like an inferno, or the throbbing ache of need traveling south.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear the sound again, only this time, Chris slows the kiss.
I should recognize this for what it is?the beginning of the end of kisses to end all kisses?but I don’t. I’m too wrapped up in the moment. Too intent on milking this for all its worth. So, when Chris pulls away, it’s like a bucket of ice water being thrown over me, startling and uncomfortable, and I blink, a whimper passing my lips I’m not proud of.
I stare at him, my pulse trying and failing to come back down to earth when I sense a presence beside me and glance over to see Brynn, grinning from ear to ear. “I was just making sure you were okay, but it looks like you’re great.” She winks, and I instantly revoke her best-friend card. “Don’t mind me. I was just leaving,” she says, and then she turns, leaving me there with cheeks burning, and my body wanting things it shouldn’t.
I glance back up at the man towering over me, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. I can’t believe I lost control. That I let him get the upper hand.
But when our eyes lock, the smug smile I’m expecting is absent. Instead, there’s a crease in his brow, a look in his eyes I can’t read, and the full lips that just wrecked my mouth are smashed into a thin line.
I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it, his deep baritone filling the silence. “If you’re going to spend the rest of the night talking with him, then I’m going to be right up here.” He taps a finger lightly over my temple, and I shiver. “Every. Fucking. Second.”
Desire unfurls in my stomach like a flower in bloom, and I hate myself for it.
“You’re an asshole,” I hiss, and then I turn around and leave.