Make Me Bad(21)

“Playing the protective big brother,” he says, finally turning his attention fully to me. His face looks menacing even as he glances down at my champagne-stained dress. I wonder if he feels bad for scaring me. If so, he doesn’t apologize. “Want me to find you a towel?”

I shake my head. It’s no use now, but I still wipe aimlessly at my dress with my hand, highly aware that the light blue color is all but sheer now that it’s drenched. I pull it away from my chest as if trying to air it out and then look back up to find him watching me.

We’re half a room apart, and I think I prefer it that way.

His head tips to the side. “I’ve been wondering, does your brother know about your big life plans?”

I nearly choke. “No. Of course not. He and my dad like things just the way they are. If they had it their way, I’d never leave the house, would never walk outside or experience anything that wasn’t perfectly…wholesome.”

He smiles then, appreciating my honesty. “So what you’re hoping to achieve this year is too devious to tell your brother about. Interesting.”

He’s not moving and yet it feels like he’s circling around me like a snake, squeezing me tighter…and tighter. Soon, there’ll be no air left.

“You’re on the right track then,” he continues. “You made it to the party, and you snuck off into a room that’s not really intended for guests.” His brows arch. “What are you going to do now?”

Umm, congratulate myself on the achievement and call it a day? If I booked it home, I could still be safely tucked in bed before ten.

I can’t say that, obviously, so instead I deflect by answering his question with one of my own.

“What would you do? If you were me, if you wanted to be bad…”

He moves then, heading for the tufted leather couch sitting against the wall underneath a framed black and white abstract painting. He turns and sits down, stretching his long legs out in front of him so they’re crossed at the ankles.

“There’s the obvious choice. Normally, if I’m alone with a woman at a party, there’s no real question about what we’re about to do.”

One of his arms gets propped on the back of the couch. He’s the picture of easy confidence when our eyes meet again.

I resist the urge to stuff my fist into my mouth and bite down. Still, my insides flip and then clench tight. My bottom lip is tucked between my teeth before I realize what I’m doing and release it on an exhale. I’m lucky I didn’t draw blood.

His sinister smile stays in place as he continues, “But, since that’s not on the agenda for tonight, we’ll have to think of something else.”

Not on the agenda, of course. Why would it be? I’m just standing here looking as if I’ve entered a wet t-shirt contest. If I was more of a woman and he was less of a man, we’d be on the floor, tumbling around like two wild animals.

I try not to take offense at the fact that sex and anything pertaining to it has been so easily wiped off the table. Am I so unattractive that the very thought of sleeping with me sends him running in the other direction? Maybe it’s just that I’m not in his league, or perhaps not even on his radar.

In a way, it’s liberating having him reaffirm what I already suspected. I don’t have to be so serious about this. Sure, I’m alone with an attractive man, but I don’t have to worry about impressing him. He’s shut the door on that subject—locked it, in fact, and thrown away the key.

I finally move freely, stepping over to inspect the books that have been calling my name since I first poked my head into the room. Jake’s collection isn’t too shabby, but it’s obviously curated. Every title is here to impress rather than to be enjoyed. I know, because nearly all of the spines are perfect. None of these books have been cracked, torn through, devoured.

“You could steal one of them,” Ben suggests.

I glance over my shoulder at him with a wry smile. “Why stop there? Let’s take his TV too.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “It’s just a thought. You want to be bad, but this location is sort of limiting.”

I nod, continuing to peruse the shelf as he continues, his voice slightly more goading than it was a moment ago.

“I suppose if you don’t want to take something, you could leave something instead.”

His words are as tantalizing as the meaning behind them. I freeze with my finger resting on the spine of The Divine Comedy. How fitting considering my Virgil is sitting right behind me.

Without turning to him, I ask, “Like what?”

“A token.”

I might be innocent in some ways, but I’m not so naive that I miss his meaning. I have so few things with me, no purse and no phone. I didn’t think I’d need them since I was coming with Colten. I have my mostly empty cup of champagne and the clothes on my back, a hair tie around one wrist. None of those things qualify as a token, though. No, a token is something compelling, a part of yourself. The first thing I think of is my unmentionables, the things I’ve never taken off in the presence of a man before. I cringe considering I can’t even refer to them directly in my own thoughts.

Your lacy panties, Madison. That’s what he wants me to leave behind.

My hand trembles on the book. I yank it away at the same moment I work up the courage to peek over at Ben. My mouth is hidden against my shoulder, but his is stretched into a mocking smile.