The Relationship Pact(44)

Larissa pinches my hip and I try not to laugh.

Trista beams. She looks over our head and waves at someone. “If you two will excuse me, I need to say hello to Petra. But we will have a dance later, Hollis. Mark my words.”

“Absolutely,” I tell her. “I can’t wait.”

“I’ll find you soon,” she tells me before disappearing into the throng of people.

Once she’s gone, I spin Larissa around to face me. She’s beaming as she gazes up at me, and I feel a hint of pride that maybe she’s proud to have me here.

“I think that went well,” I say, feeling her out.

She tilts her head back and laughs. “You think?”

“I think so. I just hope it went well enough that your mom bought it hook, line, and sinker and doesn’t try to set you up with someone else. Because, unlike Jacky boy, I can take a hit, and I can deliver one even better.”

She rests a hand on my chest again. “You did great with my mom. Nailed it.”

I shrug. “Did you doubt me?”

She laughs. “No. Not really.”

“I can charm anyone.”

She raises her chin. “Do you think you’ve charmed me?”

“Maybe.”

I hope so.

She looks around the room. I can tell she’s considering her answer because lines appear between her eyes. I think they’re adorable but know from experience never to mention shit like that. Women don’t think it’s as cute.

“What would I have to do to charm you more?” I ask.

She grins. “You’ve done just fine. Don’t lose any sleep over it.”

A man dressed in a gray suit with a lavender shirt stops at Larissa’s side. They speak easily. By the time she introduces me, white noise screams in my ears, and I miss his name.

It’s not like it matters. He was wholly unimpressive.

“Did your mom send him over here?” I ask.

“Hollis Hudson, are you jealous?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Nope. Don’t lose any sleep over it.”

She laughs loudly and freely.

“Is it wrong that I don’t like some pudfucker coming by and hitting on my girl?” I ask.

I use the term without thinking.

She doesn’t miss it.

“Your girl?” she asks, raising a brow.

“For tonight, anyway.”

We watch each other closely. Somehow, using that term shifts the energy between us.

She turns her body to face me. “You know what I told Bells before I came here?”

“No.”

“I told her I’d trust my gut.”

I nod. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

She presses her lips together. “Well, my gut tells me we should put a stamp on our fake relationship, so everyone here knows I’m taken.” She looks up at me through those damn lashes again. “Because I would hate for you to get in a fight over me.”

Instantly, my cock strains against my pants.

I wrap an arm around her back and pull her into me. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t resist at all. In fact, she leans against me and brings one arm lazily over my shoulder.

I’m fairly certain that it would always feel like a level of heaven to have her—a woman so beautiful and funny and smart and classy—up against me. But we aren’t in a frat house or a bar or even at a place that I invited her to like last night. We are here—with her people. People with money and class. People I don’t associate with much because I’m the poor college kid who barely scrapes by.

To have her in my arms is amazing. But to have her willingly in my arms in this situation? It’s another fucking level.

I grin. “Sweetheart, you're going to need to define what put a stamp on it means to you because the definition going through my head might get the police called for public indecency.”

She sways back and forth just enough so that her body rubs against my groin. I think it's by accident, but the twist of her lips tells me it wasn't.

“I’m warning you,” I tell her.

“Warnings are for chumps.”

I chuckle. “Is that so?”

“People only issue warnings if they don't want to have to follow through.” She shrugs cockily. “I don't know what you're warning me about, Hollis, but I hope it doesn't mean that you're taking options off the table.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Are you goading me?” I asked her, surprised. “Because you don't know who you're fucking with, and you just might be out of your league, little lady.”

She runs her fingers against my lapel again. “You know what I think about you?”

“No, but I'd love to.”

“I think you're all talk and no action.”

I stare at her dumbfounded. “Aren't you the girl who was telling me how you have this problem with guys like me?”

She nods. “I do have a problem with guys like you. I like you,” she says, annunciating each syllable clearly. “But you, specifically, I have a definite problem with.”

I lock my other hand at the small of her back and pull her into me even closer. The half an inch that was between us a moment ago is gone.

“Please, tell me. What is your definite problem with me?” I tease.