Everyone began cheering and hollering and moving around the floor.
“The clock is ticking, ladies and gentleman. You have one hour to get to know each other. Have fun.”
Samantha glanced around all the people, hating her best friend as one of the DJ’s assistants tapped her on the shoulder. The woman handed her a pen and paper, entered her information into a tablet, then smiled and nodded thanks before leaving to pass on to others. “Good luck.”
Samantha clutched the paper in her hand, scanning the room, hoping to spot Tristan, but found Mark standing right behind her instead.
He grinned and narrowed his eyes. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He teased. He then took his pen and paper, stepped around the table and placed it upon her back. “May I?”
She nodded, feeling a bit wobbly after only two sips of her Martini. “Go ahead.”
“Samantha. Is that with two M’s or just one?”
She laughed. “Just one.”
“Last name?”
“Smiles.”
“And how do you know the bride?”
She located Tristan just across the dance floor and cleared her throat. “We grew up together,” she said, suddenly feeling winded, because he was talking to a tall blond, who had her paper flat against his chest.
“Can you be more specific please?” Mark grinned.
“Hartford Grove Elementary, playground, second grade.”
His pen hit her back again, then he turned around and offered her his own. “Your turn.”
She cleared her throat, trying to concentrate, but Tristan was laughing at something the blond was saying, and that irritated her.
“Last name?” She asked Mark.
“Wahlberg.”
“And how do you know the bride and groom,” she said, completely distracted.
“We all met on the set of Boogie Nights.”
But before she could finish writing, Mark slipped out from under her paper and stood in front of her. “Okay, so who is he? Or she…? I’m open-minded like that.”
Samantha blinked a few times, unsure what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I’m not Mark Wahlberg. But I’m flattered you believed me.”
Her eyes widened and she looked down to her paper. “Sorry, I—”
But he took the pen from her hand and began filling out his information. “Look, I told Renee it was too soon.” He scribbled some words on the paper, handed it back to her, then draped his arm over her shoulder to turn her toward the dance floor. “Is he here? The guy who’s captured your heart?”
She shook her head, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. “No. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled, then patted her on the backside. “Must be my imagination.” Soon he was lost in the crowd, gathering more names, and she began making her way back toward the bar. If she was going to get through this night, she was going to need more alcohol.
She introduced herself to as many people as she could along the way, collecting information until she saw Tristan heading for the bar as well.
She made a beeline, arrived first, and swiftly turned to order another drink. A hand settled low on her back a second later, and she pulled in a shaky breath, knowing it was Tristan. She turned around, finding him standing right behind her. He was clean shaven, smelled like heaven, and her heart picked up speed simply from being close to him again.
“You better leave,” she whispered, “or someone’s going to get suspicious.”
He leaned in close, so close she could feel his breath against her neck. “We just spent four days driving cross country together. If we don’t talk, people will get suspicious.”
Her pulse quickened for the second time, and she couldn’t help the smile that teased at her mouth. “You’re right.” But the alcohol had hit her harder than she thought, and she stumbled forward, requiring Tristan’s hand to catch her at her hip.
She looked up into his eyes, feeling his fingers press into her skin. “I don’t like watching girls hang on your every word. It annoys me.”
He laughed, but glanced her over from head to toe before settling his eyes on her lips. “I don’t like watching you parade around half naked when I can’t touch you.”
She laughed wholeheartedly and resisted the urge to pull him against her. “You noticed.”
His eyes heated, and he looked her up and down again. “I’m pretty sure everyone in this dammed place noticed you.”
She grinned again, moving around him to place her paper on his back. “Name please?”
His muscles tightened, and he reached around to grip her upper thigh to yank her forward. “You should know it. You were screaming it last night,” he whispered.
She bit her bottom lip. “And how do you know the bride?”
“What bride?”
She turned around to offer him her back, and instantly felt his fingers trail down the column of her spine. “What do you say we get out of here?”
She pulled in a breath, wanting nothing more, but turned around to take his paper and place it on the bar.
He frowned. “I guess that’s a no?”
She took another sip of her martini and filled out the paper. “Later,” she promised.
He leaned in close to her ear, his perfectly shaved cheek like silk against her skin. “Later.”
And then he was gone.
The game passed by in a rush. By the end of it, the agenda had been completed. Everyone was laughing and talking, and much looser than before. Samantha stood at a cocktail table by the dance floor, deliberately selecting the spot because she had a perfect view of Tristan. He was still surrounded by women, but for some reason she didn’t mind as much now. He was hers, and she knew he’d come to her the moment she curved her finger.
Mark came to stand beside her then, holding a beer in one hand, and martini in the other. “You look thirsty,” he stated, placing her drink in the middle of the table. “Are you still trying to pretend not to care about that blond dude over in the corner?”
She pulled in a breath, shaking her head, and turned to face him “I don’t know whatever you mean—”
But he winked at her, interrupting her words. He took a swig of his beer. “Samantha, your secret’s safe with me. But I find it hilarious you think no one notices.”
She bit her lip and glanced over at Mark. “Is it that obvious?”
He took another swig of beer before answering. “Yeah…it kinda is. Though don’t worry, most people are too drunk to notice—plus, they’re not as perceptive as I am.” He then stepped closer, hunching down to whisper in her ear. “But my question is this, if he could have you, why is he making out with that brunette over there?”
Samantha whipped around, her eyes finding Tristan immediately, standing in the same spot she’d left him, with a blond woman by his side. But his eyes were narrowed and focused on Samantha.
She hit Mark’s arm and shook her head. “You’re trying to make him jealous.”
Mark laughed. “Or make him realize what he’s missing. There are two sides to every coin.”
“True,” she agreed, as a deep voice broke through the music again.
Phin was up on the stage this time, his arm around Renee, and the microphone in his hand. “Now that you’ve had a chance to get to know one another, we have another game.”
The crowd erupted with laughter, and he held his finger to his mouth to shush them. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Renee and I met at the Hamilton Ballet. We’ve since moved in other directions, but the company will forever have a special place in our hearts.”
Mumbles began coursing through the crowd, and Phin motioned with his hands for them to settle down. “We’re going to play a game,” he said again. “One we learned not too long ago in an improv class and we’d like you to join us. There are only two rules.” He grinned. “One, you have to have a partner; and Two, never stop touching.”
He took Renee in his arms and start
ed swaying. “It can be only fingers.” He turned her out, letting her travel until only the tips of their fingers connected. “Or the whole body.” He yanked her forward again, slamming her body against his, her thigh between his legs. “When the song changes, so does the person you’re dancing with. Fair enough?”
Renee grinned and took the microphone. “Couples will be eliminated as we go, so be creative and don’t let that happen.” She raised her eyebrows. “There’s a prize at the end, but you’ll have to wait to find out what it is. Have fun everyone!”
28
Chapter Twenty-eight
It didn’t take long before everyone was grabbing a partner and heading for the dance floor. There were different couples, some conservative, some not, yet it didn’t take long before the scene that unfolded in front of them looked like it could have come out of a Vegas nightclub. Deciding she didn’t really care about prizes, Samantha turned to leave, but then she felt a hand rest on her lower back.
Mark stood just behind her, his lips close to her ear as he spoke to her. “What do you say—want to make him jealous?”
She laughed, because this was a horrible idea. She wasn’t a dancer, and she wasn’t about to start now.
But then Devon came to stand beside her and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Who are we making jealous?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the dance floor.
Her eyes shifted downward, then she looked over at Mark. He caught her eye and winked to let her know it would be okay, then handed her a shot glass filled with some sort of brown liquid.
“Drink,” he said to Samantha. Then he turned to Devon and lifted his chin. “It seems,” Mark began, taking her glass that was now empty, “that Samantha has an admirer—but he’s too much of a pussy to come over here and get her. So we’ll have to draw him out.”
Devon choked on his bottle of Corona and glanced around the dance floor. “Who?”
Mark waved him off. “Doesn’t matter, Devon. What matters is that we make Samantha look like the most delicious morsel in the room.” He took Samantha’s arm, handed Devin her clutch, and bowed to her. “May I have this dance?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” But then she saw Tristan already out there, dancing with the redheaded hussy she’d seen him with earlier. The ginger turned to face him, her legs long and elegant as she walked around him, trailing her finger along his body.
Mark pushed her toward the dance floor, then pulled her around and gripped her fingers firmly in one hand. “Change your mind?”
Her lips curled in a playful grin and she nodded. “Do your worst.”
As though her invitation flipped on a switch, Mark grinned and starting dancing like a Latin lover. He lifted her up at the arms—just high enough where her breasts almost hit his chin. He grinned. “Good girl.” Then he gripped the backs of her thighs, adding enough pressure to urge them to spread. Her eyes widened, but he lifted again, causing her legs to straddle his waist. “Lean back,” he whispered.
She did as he said, and he used her body to form a soft sweeping motion across the floor, causing her long hair to dust the ground. The people around them squealed with approval, and he pulled her up again. “I think we got his attention.” But then he placed her on her feet again and whipped her out in a turn.
Tristan was right there watching her, staring at Mark before raking his eyes over Samantha. But he wasn’t angry like she feared; he was actually grinning. She bit her lip, her stomach tightening with deliciousness, because the look on his face told her he knew exactly what game she was playing, and she was pretty sure she’d just started a war.
Tristan placed his hand on the small of the redhead’s back and lifted her thigh to hook it on the top of his hip.
Mark turned her back in to his chest, and soon her body was pressed against his again.
“Looks like we have a challenger,” he said, placing both of her hands around his neck and gripping her hips to move them to the rhythm. She took his lead, moving when he told her to, letting her body sway with each beat, each pulse, and soon they were dancing as one. Hips together, hands laced.
The music changed a second later, and the DJ’s voice sounded from the loud speakers. “Now switch!”
Samantha spun around, looking for her next partner, and right there behind her was Devon. He grabbed hold of her hand and spun her into his chest. “I don’t know who this other guy is, but I still owe you for the dirt incident.” He grinned.
She giggled, partly because she was having so much fun, but partly because the alcohol was starting to affect her beyond her own control. She took hold of Devon’s hand and turned herself around again. Wiggling her bottom against Devon’s thighs, she glanced over at Tristan.
He had the blond he’d been talking to earlier, but he was barely paying her any attention. His eyes were focused on Samantha, eating her up with every move. She grinned again, then turned around and hooked her leg up to the top of Devon’s hip. He caught it with his hand, lifting her up to drag her foot along the floor. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky, but her two dance partners could have easily been finalists on Dancing with the Stars.
Soon the music changed again, she was spun out into the crowd, and her hand was yanked back behind her. She was pulled into a dark alcove over by the stairwell.
Tristan’s head was close to her neck, his voice low and textured. “If we don’t leave soon, there’s going to be a fight,” he promised.
She tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her throat. “Oh yeah?” she whispered. “With who?”
He laughed, because although he was partly serious, this was a game and they both knew it. “Whoever touches you next.” He pulled back a little, just enough to look at her eyes. She palmed the side of his face, her legs already shaking. Because it wasn’t a look of playfulness and lust that stared back at her. It was one of passion, of a need so great it ripped her heart right out of her chest—it was one of admiration, and she wanted to be looked at like that for all eternity.
She pulled in a deep breath, not wanting this dance to end. “Take me to your room,” she whispered.
“As you wish.”
Tristan left the party ahead of her, placing a keycard in her palm before walking away. After gathering her bag and belongings from the cocktail table, she nodded to Mark, letting him know they’d won, and began making her way to the elevator. She thought about making up an excuse for Renee, but her best friend was wrapped in her fiancé’s arms, and Samantha knew she wouldn’t be missed. She slipped out of the party without anyone noticing and pressed the button for the tenth floor.
Tristan’s room was at the end of the hall, and she opened the door without even knocking. An ache was already coursing low in her belly, and her pulse quickened as she looked into the pitch-black room.
“Tristan?” she whispered, taking two steps into the dark room before his arms wrapped around her belly.
“Grrrrr…” He growled low in her ear, lifting her off her feet and making her feel lighter than air.
Her body instinctively tensed, but she melted against him, because she didn’t have a choice… When it came to Tristan, she was like water—fluid, movable, completely translucent.
He whipped her around, grabbed hold of her ass and lifted her higher. He forced her legs apart and positioned them on either side of his waist. “You’ve had a little bit to drink,” he said, walking with her over to the bed.
She grinned, taking his face between her hands so she could look at him better. “I’ve had a lot to drink. What are you going to do about it?”
He only stared at her as though there was something he wanted to say, but then he placed her to her feet and turned her to face the wall. “How do we get this off you?”
She giggled, pulling the straps down her shoulders in one motion. She turned to face him, the romper only hanging at her hips, the pasties in the shape of roses the only things covering her breasts.
His ey
es raked over them, taking in every inch, every curve, and he dipped down, until he lifted her in his arms and cradled her against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, see him visibly struggling to breathe. He laid her down on the middle of the mattress, and followed right behind her until he was nestled between her thighs.
“I missed you,” he said, his voice hoarse and barely audible. Only his lips and eyes transferred the message. But it was clear. She was his. No one else’s. And he was going to make sure she never wanted her legs wrapped around another man again.
The next morning she awoke with an ache between her thighs and her head nestled by Tristan’s throat. He was still sleeping, and she gazed up at him, remembering every delicious detail of their lovemaking. The room was cast in the golden glow of morning, and although he had morning stubble on his face, he still looked incredibly vulnerable. Almost like a little boy.
Her heart pinched, and she rolled to the side of the bed. For some reason whenever she looked at him she thought about bigger things, deeper things. Like forevers, like children, and mixed DNA. But last night had been magical. More than arms and limbs and passion. It was about needing one another, trusting and cherishing. She’d never experienced anything like it before in her life.
She took a deep breath and pushed off the side of the bed. Because even though she wanted to spend all morning doing it all over again, that wasn’t a possibility. She stretched her arms overhead and pulled in a deep breath. This morning was another story and she needed to get back to her room before anyone noticed.
She picked up her bag off the floor, took one last glance at the man who consumed her body, mind and soul, then walked to the bathroom. Deciding there was a two hours yet before she had to worry about anyone trying to find her, she turned on the shower and stepped in before it had a chance to warm. After washing her hair, she combed out all the tangles as best she could with her fingers, then wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to the bedroom. The moment she opened the door, she immediately froze. Her face drained of all color as Renee stared back at her.
The Boy I Hate Page 21