Page 70 of Twisted Fate

“I just put this dress on, and you’re looking at me like you’re about to tear it off.” The idea isn’t one I’m completely opposed to, but this dresswasexpensive, and I kind of need it for tonight.

He licks his lips, making heat rush to my cheeks and far lower. “It’s a stunning dress, but I think what’s underneath would interest me much more.”

I swallow, my pulse kicking up as he slides his hand into mine and guides me around to face him. I grip the lapel of his jacket with my free hand as my heart pounds in my ears.

He dips his face closer until our noses brush before resting his forehead against mine. “You have no idea how badly I want you, Rory.”

I suck in a breath, but before I can get a word in, his lips seal over mine, and whatever I was going to say is lost in the feel of his mouth. I slide my hand up his chest and grip the back of his neck, tugging him closer as I flick my tongue across his lower lip.

A soft growl rumbles in his throat, and he nips my lip before his tongue darts out to meet mine. His hands grip my waist, rubbing slow circles against the fabric of my dress that I’m suddenly wishing didn’t exist.Well, that escalated quickly.

“How much time do we have?” I ask, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Not enough,” he murmurs against my lips. He leans away and brushes my hair back into place before adjusting his suit jacket. He offers me his arm. “Our guests will be arriving any minute. We’ll have to pick this up later.”

I press my lips together so I don’t suggest something stupid like missing the beginning of the event.No,I silently scold myself. I’m going to be a responsible adult and ignore the delicious throbbing between my legs. Jesus. I need a cold shower.

Placing my hand on his arm, we walk to the elevator. Once we’re on, I pull my hand back and stand against the wall opposite him. I need a clear head going into tonight, and whenever I’m too close to Tristan, it can prove difficult to think straight—or think about anything other than his hands on me.

Tristan says nothing, but the smirk on his lips is telling enough. He knows why I put distance between us—he thinks it’s hilarious.

I roll my eyes and keep my gaze trained on the wall the rest of the ride to the main floor where the ballroom is.

Skylar and Max, along with several other Westbrook Hotel employees, are already downstairs when Tristan and I arrive. We walk into the room, and I feel eyes on me. Squaring my shoulders, I stand straight, refusing to look as nervous as I am.

“That’s my girl,” Tristan murmurs from beside me.

My girl.Oh boy. My chest swells. I like that statementwaytoo much.

I take a deep breath and exhale. I’m ready for this.

Skylar and I stand at the entrance to the ballroom to greet guests as they come in, while Tristan mingles with everyone inside. Tonight is all about getting cheques out of these high-class attendees to donate to charity. Westbrook Inc. chooses a new charity each year, and this year the money is going to a popular LGBTQ+ support for adolescents organization that Tristan handpicked from hundreds of applications. Most of the attendees of this event are businesspeople and friends of Tristan’s, meaning they have the money we need to be donated.

I shake hands with an endless line of people entering the room. By the end of it, my mouth aches from smiling so much, but I feel good. Potential donors soon fill the entire room. While my job this evening is far from over, this is a decent start.

I spend most of the event chatting with some of the most successful businesspeople in Rockdale. It’s a dream come true for any business major, and I’m taking full advantage of the networking opportunity. Graduation is always on my mind, especially as it inches closer.

Tristan makes his annual speech, discussing in detail the organization set to receive this year’s charity, and wraps up by thanking guests for coming and donating generously.

I find him after he exits the stage and hand him a glass of champagne. “Nice speech,” I say.

“I should’ve had you make it,” he says, clinking his glass against mine before taking a sip. “You’ve put the most work into this event.”

I shrug. “Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about the amazing people who are willing to give donations to make a real change.”

“You’re right. Tonight may not be about you,” he says as he takes my champagne flute and sets it beside his on a banquet table, “but the next few minutes can be. Dance with me, Rory.”

I place my hand on his extended one and let him lead me onto the dance floor as the female musician starts playing a new song. Tristan clasps my hand in his and places his other on my waist while I rest mine on his shoulder. We step in time to the music, and I use this opportunity to glance around the room. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves; I can’t help but beam with pride.

“I can feel that,” Tristan says, offering me a faint smile.

I lift my eyes to his. “Good.”

We dance until the song ends, and he pulls me against him. “Tonight is amazing. The donations are pouring in. Congratulations on a successful event, sweetheart.” He smiles at me. “I have to speak to some people, but I’ll find you later.”

I squeeze his hand before letting go. “Of course. I’ll be around here somewhere.”

He tweaks my chin, and his signature smirk sends my heart racing as he leaves me standing off to the side of the room, surveying my success.

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