Allegiance - Chiah Wilder Page 0,3
shit out.” He looked over his shoulder at the sassy woman who pretended not to be looking, but he knew she was. “We’re just friends. You know that.”
“Yeah, friends with benefits. Although, the benefits have been dry for far too long.”
He sighed. “I want to keep it at just friends. I’ve told you that before.”
He’d been crystal clear over the past six months that sex was off the table, yet here she was, plastered up against him, as if they were the ones engaged.
“We’ll always be friends.”
“You still like tripping over the wrong side of the tracks, don’t you?”
Quinn’s fingers tightened on his arm, all but yanking him toward the dance floor.
“Baby, don’t tease me. You know the night’s not complete without a dance.” She smiled up at him, her eyes shooting daggers. “Come on.”
“Dance with her already,” the caterer huffed. “One thing’s for sure—it’ll get your mind off the food.” A wry smile lifted the corners of her sexy little mouth.
Tank gazed at her.
“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your job?” Quinn snapped back at her, digging her nails into his button-down shirt. To Tank, she purred, “Come on, baby. Let’s get all hot and sweaty.” She tried to jerk him toward the dance floor, hissing, “Come on,” when he stood still.
Tank shot the caterer one last look, taking in her long, wavy hair and perfectly arched brows, drawn together over defiant eyes. Turning, she walked toward the kitchen door, her shapely hips swaying with each step, and Tank groaned inwardly.
Quinn blew out a long, exaggerated sigh. “You’re being very rude.”
“No,” he growled, diverting his attention away from the closed door to the whining princess. “You are. What’s your problem?”
“I don’t like competing with the help.”
“You don’t like competing with anyone.”
“That’s true” She giggled. “You know me so well. Come on, let’s have a good time.”
“Not before you understand you can’t treat people like that, and you don’t own me.”
She blinked dramatically, as if she were about to burst into tears. But he knew better. They’d played this game too many times.
“Look, we’re friends. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you when we bumped into each other at these bullshit parties, but that doesn’t mean I owe you anything. We’re not dating, we’re not even sleeping together, so back off the possessive shit. Got it?”
“Yes, Drew.” Her lips twisted into a snarl, and then she evened them out into a seductive smile. “Can we dance now, please?”
“And stop calling me Drew. Only my mom can call me that.”
“But Tank sounds weird. Anyway, you were Drew in high school, and that’s where we met.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Before he could argue much else, she drew him onto the crammed, wooden dance floor, with her designer perfume permeating his clothes as they swayed to a slow R&B song.
Quinn sighed happily against his neck, causing his muscles to tighten as she molded her body to his. He was sure as hell going to disrupt her feeling of contentment, because he was still pissed about the way she treated the caterer, and her feeling of having some monopoly over him was beyond annoying. He didn’t owe her shit.
“So, no Mason tonight?”
After the way she’d acted back at the buffet table, Tank didn’t even try to play nice with the subject of her long-distance fiancé. Mason was rarely with Quinn at any of the social events in town.
She pulled back, a frown creasing her forehead. “He’s working in L.A. He didn’t have time to fit the party into his schedule.”
“Of course. L.A. is about a two-hour drive from here, so I can see how difficult that would be to fit in on a Saturday night.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It is. I’ve told you how hard he works. We both do.”
“Right.”
Work was code for fucking around with other people. She had explained to Tank that she and Mason had an open relationship. Their engagement was all for show to make her daddy happy, so whenever Mason made his way up to Santa Teresita, they played the loving couple. But Mason wasn’t in town often, leaving Quinn with plenty of free time on her hands. Tank knew that no matter how much she professed to be a rebel, pissing her parents off with her antics, there was no way in hell she’d ever marry a man who wasn’t in her social class. Though she’d deny it, Quinn Fitzgerald was a snob through and through. But she gave a mean blow job.
Leaning back into him, Tank’s eyes wandered back