Crushed - Pamela Ann Page 0,11
with a hired club DJ or something like that.”
My response didn’t seem to matter to him, because he was off to the next question, giving me a foreboding look.
“And what did you tell him?”
“I said sure.” It was a party all the same. Maybe I might even have a great time with no Brody to worry about since he would be stuck here with his own bash.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here.”
He was ordering me what to do now? Since when did that happen?
Peering towards him, I tried to stand my ground. “I already told him I was going, Brody. It’d be rude not to show up.”
“You’re drunk, and I don’t want you near perverts like him!”
“A couple bottles of beer doesn’t get anyone drunk. I’m not a lightweight, so I’m all good to drive. Besides, what’s the difference between perverts and flirts, anyway? It’ll go down the same route if I let it happen. So, if you have a problem with that, that’s too bad, ‘cause I don’t see it as one.”
The fiery pizzazz and abrasive attitude wasn’t welcomed given the look he was giving me. In fact, that was the first time I saw him enraged. He was always happy-go-lucky with everything. This was … different, refreshing even.
Pressing his lips together, he studied me with utmost intensity, not daring to even blink his eyes as he considered me fully. “You don’t see it as a potential danger to hang out with perverts? Heck, you could be drugged, raped, or even killed, yet you don’t give a rat’s ass about that. I wonder how your parents will feel about that if I decide to give them a call.”
He didn’t want to fuck me with me, not today, most especially not today.
“You wouldn’t dare!” I growled in his face, heated at the threat of what he was willing to do just to get his way. “That’s breaking code!” We all made a pact that, when we partied, we figured it out ourselves before we got our parents involved. As long as it wasn’t jail, bail, or the emergency room, we never—ever—bothered with parents. He knew this as much as I did.
His eyes lit up, mocking me as he gave me a cruel yet über sexy smile. “Oh, I fucking dare, Amber Harrison.” Facing me smugly, he stepped in close, too close for comfort, before he finally uttered the words. “So I dare you to dare me.”
He was all male, and the intoxication of his minty breath with a hint of beer and the sweet aroma of his sun-kissed skin was playing havoc with my body.
Gathering all the courage I could, I ground my teeth together before I growled in protest. From him being too hot, from his uncalled for threats to call my parents, and this weird sudden sexual tension that seemed to hung between us today, I just wanted to scream.
“What’s your problem, huh? If you’re having a bad night, there’s no need to spread that shit around.”
“I am having a bad night, and I did say I liked having you near.” I expected him to come at me with attitude; instead, he seemed to have mellowed out, almost complacent. “So call me selfish, but I think I need you more than Russo does.”
Shit, why did he have to speak to me that way? If I’d had more to drink, I would have thought he was telling me he wanted me for himself. I knew better, though. I should know better. Always.
“Brody—” I began protesting, but he was quick to silence me by drawing me near to his face so that I could almost taste his breath on my tongue. Close, intoxicating proximity was too much. He was too much. I was a quivering mess because I wanted him so badly, and at the same time, I was reeling it in.
“Shh, it’ll be all right.” His endless pools of dark eyes magnetized me. “You’re upset, and I want to keep a close eye on you,” he said soothingly, leaving me with dry mouth, almost panting while he continued to trap me without any effort other than speaking closely to me. “Don’t be mad at me. I just want to know you’re going to be okay, preferably with you staying here at my party.”
Damn.
Fuck.
Should I stay or should I go? That was a gamble, because it was getting too personal. Then again, as much as I hated myself for even wanting to taste a little of paradise, the temptation