“Ow, you’re hurting me!” I snap at her, yanking my arm away, not exactly thrilled at being taken away from the chance to watch Colton.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” she asks, each word a staccato. I don’t even know how to answer her. I think I’m still under his spell for my words are not forming. “Holy shit, Rylee! You two were basically fucking each other with your eyes. I mean, I felt uncomfortable watching you two, like I was peeping into your bedroom,” she rambles on as she does when excited, “and you know I never get uncomfortable.” She leans back against the wall and tilts her head up to the ceiling, an unbelieving look on her face.

I stand there and stare at her for I don’t know how to answer her, so she continues. “I knew you said you guys had made out,” she continues ignoring the childlike snort of laughter that comes from me, “But you never told me that there was … that spark … that chemistry … such intensity … My God! I mean, I was hoping when you saw him that—”

“What?” Her last sentence triggers my brain to function. “What do you mean you were hoping?”

She smiles sheepishly at me. “Well …”

What the fuck is going on here? “Quit stalling, Montgomery!”

“Well, I was calling you last night to tell you we had landed him as a guest—Merit’s one of his new sponsors. Anyway I called just because I was excited, I thought we could sit back and lust after him tonight—I didn’t know anything about what had happened. I talked to Dane and that was when I found out you were out with him.” Her words are tumbling out now. I nod at her to continue, my eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Then you came home and everything unfolded …”

“And what? You decided not to tell me because …”

“Well,” she contemplates, “After you told me everything, I had no idea that you two—your connection—is that magnetic. That captivating. I thought maybe if you saw him here, I could help you—I could push the issue. Help you have some fun.”

I blow out a loud breath, silently staring at her. I know she means well, but at the same time, I don’t need my hand held like a child. I’m mad at her. Mad at Colton for being here with that bimbo. Mad at him for waltzing up to me and taking hold as if I belonged to him. Mad at him for making me want him so badly my insides are burning. My contemplative silence settles over us.

“Don’t be mad, Ry. I’m sorry. I was doing it from a good place.” She bites her bottom lip, pouting at me, knowing I can never stay mad at her for any period of time. I smile softly, effectively forgiving her.

I sag back against the wall and close my eyes, listening to the cheering of the crowd at something the MC says. The question rattling around in my brain comes to the forefront. “Who’s his plus one?” I ask, referring to the blonde. Is she one of his arrangements? Someone he picked up in the club? Why is he kissing her if he is telling me he wants me? Did he not ask me because I’m not enough—pretty enough, sexy enough, glamorous enough—to be on his arm in public?

“Does it matter?” she sputters, “I mean, Jesus, Rylee, you two are—”

“Who?”

“Not sure,” she shakes her head. “His people just asked for clearance for ten. No names were given.”

I let out a slew of curses that make no sense, just something I do when upset and trying to process through a situation. Haddie eyes me cautiously, knowing my litany of cuss words and its implied meaning. “Talk to me, Ryles,” she urges. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m not lying to myself, am I?” Haddie looks at me confusion etched on her face in question. “I mean, I’m not making it up? The chemistry? Colton?”

“Are you crazy?” she stammers, grabbing me by the shoulder and giving me a little shake. “I thought you two were going to spontaneously combust out there! How can you question it?”

The crowd erupts again, the sound echoing down the hallway. I can hear Colton’s voice on the microphone. The rasp of his voice pulls at me. The crowd cheers again at something he says, and I wait for the noise to subside some before I can continue. “If he’s that into me. If there is that much chemistry … then why is he here with that blonde? Kissing her? Why not ask me? Or am I just the girl he wants to fuck on the side?” The confusion and hurt are evident in my voice.

Haddie twists her lips up as she thinks about my comments. “I don’t know, Rylee. There are so many scenarios here.” I raise my eyebrows at her as if I don’t believe her. “He could have already had her as a date before he met you. Or he could really want you and she could be the piece on the side until you say yes.”

I snort again. “Really? Did you see her?”

“Have you seen you?” she rebukes. “Have you looked in the mirror, Ry? You’re gorgeous on a normal day and you look unbelievable tonight! I’m kind of getting sick of telling you that. When are you going to start believing it?” I roll my eyes at her like a child. She ignores me and continues on her possible scenarios. “She could be one of his arrangements? Or maybe she is a fame whore who met him here? Or maybe she’s a friend.”

“When’s the last time you kissed a friend like that?” I whip at her, taking my hurt out on her. She just stares at me, arms folded across her chest. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’d say keep doing what you’re doing. He obviously likes you, including your stubborn streak and smart mouth.”

“But, how do I—what do I?”

“Rylee, if you’re mad at him, be mad at him. It hasn’t stopped you from saying something to him before, and he still wants you. Just because you’ve decided to sleep with him doesn’t—”

“How do you know I’ve decided that?”

“Oh, honey, it’s written all over your face—and your body, for that matter. Besides, anyone watching that display out there already thinks that you have,” she laughs sympathetically at me as my eyes widen. “Look Ry, every girl in this club would fall into line if he snapped his fingers. Everyone, that is, but you. He’s the one pursuing you. How many times in his life do you think a woman has said no to him? Has walked away from him? Maybe he likes that. And if he does, don’t change it just because you’ve decided you want to do the deed with him.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“But that’s just it,” I confess, “Am I a challenge or does he really want me? And if it does happen, then will the challenge be over and then he’ll be done with me?”

“Honestly, who the fuck cares?” she castigates me. “You always overthink, overanalyze everything, Ry. Just forget your head for once, ignore the sensible warnings it’s telling you, and follow what your body wants. Follow Colton’s lead, for God’s sake.” I let out a shaky sigh, heeding her words. “Be yourself, Rylee. That’s what he’s liked all along.”

I nod my head several times, looking at her. A timid smile forms on my face, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Well, hallelujah!” she yells, flailing her hands over her head, “you finally listened.” She grabs my hand and starts tugging me down the hallway. “Let’s get you freshened up, get you some more liquid courage, and see where the evening and Mr. Sexy Colton lead you.”

***

It’s been about an hour since Haddie’s pep talk, and my confidence, bolstered by my steady intake of alcohol, is back in full force. We have danced and socialized with some of her co-workers and are currently sitting at the purple booth, taking a breather before hitting the floor again. I have tried desperately to not search out Colton in the club during this time. Tried to ignore the fact that he is probably kissing her somewhere in the vicinity. But I do catch my eyes flitting here and there whenever I see a big mob of people. I also note Haddie watching me as I look for him; so I try to sneak glances, try to be subtle about it. She assures me that he is probably busy with Merit Rum executives. I appreciate the explanation, her trying to make me feel better, so I just push him of my head. Or try to anyway, with the aid of another Tom Collins.

Haddie’s drinks have disappeared at a much slower pace than mine since she is technically “at work” and wants to make sure she has all her faculties. I have a steady buzz, but I’m not drunk by any means, for I hate the lack of control that comes with too much alcohol. She is laughing at me as I ask her to explain for the third time about a situation with a pretentious A-lister she had to deal with earlier in the week.

“Rylee, my dear, you are—”

“Excuse us ladies, would you mind if we joined you?” I turn to see two attractive gentlemen behind me.

Haddie raises her eyebrows at me in question and looks back at the taller one who’d spoken, “By all means, gentlemen,” she answers, a slow, sexy smile growing on her lips. “I’m Haddie and my friend here is Rylee.” She nods at me as they slide into the booth with us. The tall, dark haired one sits next to Haddie and the other, a blond haired surfer type, sits next to me in the open-ended booth. He has a kind, nervous smile and takes a long sip of his drink.

“Hi, Rylee, my name’s Sam,” he holds out his hand to mine, and I shake it, giving him a shy smile. I glance over to see Haddie engaged in conversation with his pal, her giggly, flirty face on. “So uh, I would offer to buy you a drink, but I can see your glass is already full.”

“Thanks.” I lower my gaze from his and bring my glass to my mouth to take a timid sip through my straw.

“Crazy crowded here tonight.”

“Yeah, I know,” I shout over the noise.

He says something else to me, but I’m not sure what because a loud cheer erupts from the booth next to us. I hold my hand to my ear, indicating that I can’t hear him. He scoots closer, placing his arm behind me on the booth and leans in close to my ear. “I said that you seem to be having a good time and that I noticed you earlier and am glad I—”

“The lady’s with me.” I suck in my breath at the rasp of Colton’s steely voice, the threat dominant in his words. My eyes snap up to meet Haddie’s, and I see delight flash in them before she gives me a careful, reassuring look. My heart is beating at a frantic pace, my skin laced with goose bumps, and all because I am so damn attuned to him and to his body’s close proximity.

I slowly turn to face him, effectively turning my back to press into Sam’s chest, his arm across the back of the booth brushing over my shoulder, giving the implied appearance of intimacy. I raise my eyes to meet Colton’s and try to ignore the instant pang of lust that goes straight to the juncture of my thighs upon seeing him. His hair is a tad mussed, his shirtsleeves are rolled up to the elbow, that muscle I find so damn sexy is pulsing in his jaw, and his eyes smolder with annoyance. I’ve had just enough alcohol to feel defiant, to want to test just how irritated Colton really is.

“I’m with you?” I question, my voice laced with sarcasm. I can feel Sam’s body tense behind me and shift nervously, unaware of the chess game he is currently a pawn in, as Colton’s eyes narrow at me. “Really? Because I thought you were with her.” I shift to the side to look behind him, looking for her. I raise my eyebrows at him and continue, “You know, the blonde from your arm earlier?”

“Cute, Rylee,” he spits out as impatience radiates off of him. I see his eyes shift, lock with Sam’s behind me, and deliver the hands-off warning without uttering a word.

I’m irritated that he can be all over the club for the past hour and a half, doing God knows what with the blonde, and yet he thinks he can waltz up and lay claim to me? I don’t think so. I reach back and place my hand on Sam’s knee and squeeze it gently. “Don’t worry, Sam, I’m not with him.” I make my voice loud enough that Colton can hear me. I see Haddie’s eyes widen at my words as I hear a low growl from Colton in response. I can feel Sam flinch against me. I turn back to Colton, defiance in my smirk and challenge in my eyes.

“Don’t push me, Rylee. I don’t like sharing.” I can see him clench and unclench his fists in an instinctive response. “You. Belong. With. Me.” His claim of entitlement is a rasped growl.

I quirk my eyebrows up, my insolence mounting, “How so, Ace?” I watch his eyes focus on the hand I’ve kept on Sam’s knee. “Last night you were with me, and tonight you’re with her.” I shrug calmly at him although inside I’m anything but—my heart is racing and my breath has quickened. “Seems to me like—She. Belongs. With. You.” I mimic childishly.

Colton drags a hand through his hair and gives an exasperated sigh as his eyes flicker over everyone in the booth. I can see him try to rein in his frustration at me and at having to have this conversation in front our little audience. “Rylee,” he blows air out in a sigh, “You—You,” he looks around, out into the crowd and then his eyes finally come back to mine, impatience prevalent. “You test me on every level. Push me away,” he grunts, realizing he is saying this out loud. “What am I supposed to think?”