Play with Me. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
… dancing with another guy. He’d made his move when Reese had gone in search of a cold shower, but had had to make do with a cold glass of water.
“Or, like, a James Bond spy?”
Right. ’Cause James Bond always wore stupid navy blue uniforms and captain’s wings on his lapel.
“You’re way too hot to be an accountant or something.”
“Pilot,” he mumbled, barely paying attention. All his attention was focused on Amanda.
She looked better than any woman in the place as she shook her stuff with a man Reese recognized as one of Braddock’s low-level employees. Steve something or other.
Reese had never had a problem with him—at least not until he’d realized Steve was seriously moving in on his date.
Steve hadn’t been able to keep his covetous eyes off Amanda since the minute they’d arrived. Reese had figured the hands-off-she’s-here-with-someone-else code would prevent the other man from actually doing anything about it. But when Steve’s hand accidentally brushed Amanda’s luscious ass for a second time, Reese realized he was either too drunk, or too hot for her, to even remember the code.
He tensed, ready to stride out there and do something that could cost his company a major customer, depending on how much Mr. Braddock liked Steve, even as he wondered what this crazy, unfamiliar jealousy was all about. But before he could do anything, the redheaded feline jiggled around in front of him, purring, “Dance with me?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, just grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. He wasn’t the first man she’d been gyrating up against tonight. An hour ago, she’d been wrapped around some guy dressed as a caveman, complete with fur loincloth. Captain Caveman was now groping a woman in a Little Red Riding Hood costume cut so low it barely covered her nipples.
Was there a law somewhere that said Halloween costumes for twenty-something-year-old women had to be slutty? God, he hated parties like this. How could he possibly have forgotten?
The only good thing about tonight’s was the moment he and Amanda had hit the dance floor themselves. After he’d officially gone “off duty” they’d had a couple of drinks. Drifting into the crowd, they’d danced not to the loud music, but to the intimate, primal beat that had been thrumming between them for hours.
He should never have left her alone. He should have just lived with the hard-on, trusting that the crowd on the dance floor would ensure nobody else knew he was dying to rip his date’s hot pants off and screw her into incoherence.
“C’mon, it’s a party, in case ya haven’t noticed!”
The redhead was the one who wasn’t too observant. She obviously didn’t notice that every ounce of his attention was focused on another woman. Or else she just didn’t care. He figured that was it because she had dragged him to within a few feet of Amanda and Steve, then proceeded to pole dance against his thigh, rubbing so hard he could feel the heat of her crotch through both sets of their clothes.
Nasty.
Grabbing her shoulders to push her off, he grimaced when she reached up and clasped onto his hand. Holding tight, she then turned her head and tried to suck his thumb into her mouth.
Repeat: You hate Halloween parties. And he was so far over the bar scene, he honestly couldn’t remember why he’d once enjoyed it.
Before he could disentangle himself, he glanced over and met Amanda’s stare. Her eyes narrowed and hardened. Her pretty lips compressed as she saw the strange young woman practically riding him, the pouty suction-cup mouth trying to simulate a sex act on his thumb.
He knew how it must look—as if he was pulling the bimbo closer rather than pushing her away. Amanda obviously saw it that way, because she rolled her eyes and grimaced, her jaw rock-hard and her slim form straight and tense. Considering she had been fending off the groping hands of one of Reese’s customers, she had every right to be angry as hell.
Reese was on the verge of just sacrificing his thumb to death-by-the-jaws-of-drunk-ho and pushing over to Amanda’s side. He needed to explain, and to get her the hell out of there. But she suddenly changed the game. With a look that verged between anger and challenge, she wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck. She slid closer to him, swaying slowly to the pounding music that had everyone else gyrating and bouncing. Steve all but stumbled as her beautiful mouth came close to his neck. Over the other man’s shoulder, her stare sought out Reese’s and she lifted one brow in a deliberate taunt.
Damn. She was tormenting him. His sexy pilot had claws much sharper than this intoxicated little cat who was still trying to use his thigh as a scratching post and, now, his neck as a lump of catnip.
He should have been annoyed—he’d never liked women who played games. But somehow, as his heart started thudding hard against his rib cage and all his blood again rushed to his cock, he realized he was incredibly excited by Amanda Bauer instead.
Their stares locked, intense and hot. She licked her lips, and Steve tugged her closer, as if he’d almost felt that sweet, wet tongue. But her attention wasn’t on Steve, it was entirely on Reese. Her eyes sparkled, as if she knew he was torn between wanting to laugh at her for trying to make him jealous or pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and out-caveman the guy in the loincloth.
Reese lifted a questioning brow, silently asking her how far she was going to take this. In response, she leaned toward Steve’s ear and whispered something. The other man froze, dropping his arms and watching as Amanda turned away from him. She eased through the crowd, winding a path across the dance floor, heading toward a back hallway that led to the restrooms. A number of men turned to watch her go, and she earned more than a few glares from their dates. Just before she slipped down the short hallway, she cast one more glance over her shoulder. Her half smile taunted Reese, daring him to follow.
Reese spun the horny little cat around and pushed her toward the still-frozen Steve, who appeared almost shell-shocked. When he met Reese’s eyes, he flushed, then mumbled, “Sorry, man.”
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