The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,19

completely unwarranted insult,” I say and nudge his shoulder with one of my fingers when he doesn’t look up. He glances up at me and sighs as if I’m tedious.

“Actually, I do get to do that. I just did. And, seriously,” his eyes flit over me from head to toe again. “Think about investing in your look. At least if you want to be someone to take out in public,” he says and turns his stony expression back to the dance floor. Those words spoken so casually, hit their target with the precision of fast flying bullets.

I imagine what it would feel like to slap that smug look off his face. But imagining is as close to satisfaction as I’ll ever get. I have enough problems without adding an arrest in Italy to it.

“And you should invest in fixing your terrible personality,” I snap, completely enraged by him.

“Sure. I’ll take your advice if you’ll take mine,” he says.

I bend down so I can put my face in his. I see a flare of heat in his eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s ire or desire. Because even as I face off with him and burn with real dislike, I can feel a tug between us. His mouth is inches from mine and I can’t keep my eyes off it. Before he shutters his expression again, he looks at my mouth the same way.

That bored, blank expression is back, and I pull back from him. “I don’t know what kind of upbringing you had that you feel like you can talk to someone the way you just talked to me. Your money doesn’t make you better than me or anyone,” I say.

“Hmm,” he says and stands up and takes a step toward me. The heated expression in his eyes makes me take a reflexive step backward.

“Hmm, what?” I ask

His hand darts out and he grips my hip before I can take a second step.

He trails a finger down my arm and wraps his fingers around my wrist. He presses the pads of his fingers to my pulse point.

“It’s a shame … you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers, and I can hear real regret in his voice. It offends me at the same time as it thrills me.

Damn him for being an asshole while looking the way he does.

“Let go of me,” I say, but I make no effort to free myself.

“I don’t want to,” he says quietly. “You don’t want me to, either.” His thumb strokes my pulse point and I shudder. I tug my arm free. No way will l give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch is the most exciting thing I’ve felt in a long time.

“Tesoro dolce,” he murmurs.

“I don’t know what that means, but you better cut it out,” I warn him.

Because when he does, I want to stop and listen, even though I have no idea what he’s saying.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” he asks silkily.

“No, that’s probably the word for streetwalker or cum dumpster or something,” I grumble.

His hand skims my hip and the rest of my body quivers, throbs, tingles, and yearns for the same treatment.

“I can teach you. While I fuck you. I think you’d still let me,” he says and that wakes me up. I pull out of his grasp.

I cross my arms over my chest and glower down at him. “Right, you called me cheap, and now, you’re calling me easy? ” I say in my best offended Southern woman voice.

“I wasn’t calling you easy, but if you are …” He raises he eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll overlook the cheap and even take you back to my room,” he drawls with an amused smirk on his face.

I have never itched to slap someone more than I do right now.

“Fuck you!” I spit.

“See? We want the same thing,” he quips with a grin that’s cold as ice.

“You must be in a world of pain to act like that. You’re a total asshole and you should be ashamed that you take joy in trying to make people feel small. You failed, by the way. Goodnight.” I spin on my stupid heels and walk with as much ass shaking as I can back to my table.

“Ugh, who cares?” I mumble as I arrive back at my table full of strangers and no Cass.

“No luck?” my doggedly gossipy neighbor asks when I sit down. “Don’t worry, he looks like he would break you in half,” she says with a conspiratorial wink.

That’s exactly what I’d