Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(13)

The floor was crowded, but I had just enough room to work. I put one hand on his chest while I twisted my hips. He was dancing, and the man had some moves, but his jaw went a little slack when he got a load of mine. He recovered quickly, though, and swiftly made his best effort to keep up with me.

I went for it. Shaking, popping, stepping, and twisting. We danced until I felt sweat dripping down my spine, and then we danced some more. Tristan was right there with me the whole time, and as I laughed and spun and just let loose, I tried hard to identify what I was feeling just then. After a time, I realized that I was just having fun. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d enjoyed myself more. I danced often, to train, and to stay in shape, but I never did it for fun. This was fun.

Tristan was flirty, but he never crossed a line, never brushed up in ways that a man might try if he was making a move on a woman. I felt a strong attraction to him, I think any woman would have, but I appreciated that he’d said friend, and he seemed to mean it. I wasn’t sure even I could have resisted him if he’d been hell bent on seduction.

The house music melded from one beat into the next, heavy on the bass. I couldn’t tell how many songs we danced for, but I was a sweaty, happy, hot mess by the time Tristan finally dragged me back into the lounge.

“I win. You quit first,” I told him.

He sent me sidelong smile. “Was it a competition? I didn’t know. Let’s just get a drink before we head back out. I’m nowhere near quitting.”

The guys were just where we’d left them, and Cory slid us waters as we walked up.

“Shots,” Tristan said.

Cory grinned. “More Diablo coming right up.”

“How long were we out there?” I asked Jared.

“A long time,” he said, checking the faceplate on his phone. “Over two hours.”

I laughed, grabbing my water for a long drink. I’d known we’d been out there for a long time, but I’d never have guessed two hours.

“My turn?” Jared asked, watching me with a very interested glint in his eye.

“Hell no,” Tristan answered for me. “Danika and I have a competition going tonight. We’re dancing ’til one of us drops.”

I had no problem with that. I had a competitive nature, and I just knew that I’d be winning.

“You do realize that I can’t carry you home…” All four men laughed, and I’d have been lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy the attention of four good-looking men.

Cory slapped five shots down on the bar, and we shot them. I’d barely set my glass back down before Tristan was dragging me off again.

We were back at it the instant we stepped out on the floor. I could tell right away that he was feeling more flirtatious this time, moving closer to me, his hand at the small of my back.

“You making a move on me?” I called out to him, but I wasn’t pushing him away.

I was relieved when he shook his head. His smile was innocent enough, but I thought there was a hint of something else in his eyes.

“Just dancing, sweetheart.”

I dropped low, really low, and shook my way back up, my hands just brushing his thighs as I rose.

“You making a move on me?” he called out with a laugh.

I shook my head at him, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Just dancing, sweetheart.”

It was on after that. He’d caress my hip. I’d counter that by a turn and an extra little arch of my back, just brushing up against him. He’d curse loudly, but we kept dancing.

I was actually giggling when he finally pulled me back into the lounge. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d giggled.

“I’m conceding, but only because I think you’d go until we both passed out, just to prove a point,” Tristan told me as we walked.

“All I heard just now was ‘blah, blah, blah Danika wins’.”

He stopped, shaking his head and laughing. “I like you,” he told me.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I like you, too, platonic friend of mine.”

We were both grinning like fools as we rejoined the group.

Cory served us another round. Kenny and Jared immediately started making cracks when they saw that Tristan was drinking a margarita.

“He drinks those to feel pretty,” Cory made sure to add. “True story.”

“Real men don’t drink margaritas,” Jared told me, waving his bottle of beer.

I pointed at the bottle. “That will give you a beer gut.”

Jared grinned, lifting up his shirt to show me some very nice abs. “Hasn’t been a problem so far.”

I was a little too tipsy not to give him a very big smile for the very nice show.

Tristan slapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder, leaning in to say something in his ear. Whatever it was wiped the smile from Jared’s face. He let his shirt drop.

“Give us a minute,” Tristan said, moving a few feet away.

They had a short, hushed conversation before returning to us. Tristan’s face was very blank, but Jared’s looked slightly flushed, perhaps with temper.

“So are you in this band that Tristan claims to be in?” I asked Kenny.

Kenny beamed at me. “Yes, I am. All four of us are, plus one of our buddies who isn’t here tonight.”

“What kind of music do you play?” I asked.