The Dirty Series 2(114)

What else was I going to do, anyway? Sit at home, picturing Ace’s every movement two floors above me while I ate takeout? Again.

My friends greet me with a chorus of hellos, and Jess pops up from her seat next to Alec and moves over to one of the open seats beside me.

“You look hot,” she says, her eyes sliding down the pink dress I borrowed from the boutique. Her grin is contagious. “Are you going to find somebody new and sexy to take home with you tonight?”

“No,” I hold my hands up in the air. “No way. Last time was a disaster.”

“Was it?” She cuts her eyes to the side, and boom, my heart is in my throat.

There’s Ace, walking across the room through the crowded tables, his suit accentuating the narrow line of his waist and the broad expanse of his muscled shoulders. He walks like a damn jungle cat, sensuous and sinuous and strong, and my mouth literally waters.

“He did send me sushi,” I whisper.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Ace is now even with the table.

“Kingsley!” Eli cries from the opposite side of the table. “Sit down, man. The performance is about to start.”

It’s true—on the raised stage behind the dance floor, men dressed in tight black outfits are rushing from side to side, setting up sound equipment and running tests on the equipment.

It all fades blindly into the background against the beating of my heart.

Ace is so close to me that I could reach out right now and touch his tailored Italian suit. I could reach out right now and undo the buttons of his jacket, slip it off his shoulders, and then do the same with his shirt, and run my hands over the bare skin of his chest, his washboard abs.

My shoulders tense. Where is he going to sit?

Ace puts his hands into his pockets and gives a nod to everyone around the table, then saunters around to the empty seats on the other side, dropping into one like he was born to be there.

My heart shrinks two sizes, and I turn back to Jess, trying to force my face into an expression that doesn’t look like disappointment.

“Sushi?” she says in a low voice, her eyes sparkling.

Ace is already engaged in a boisterous conversation with Jax Hunter. “He had sushi delivered to my place on Wednesday. I ran into him on the elevator and….”

“Did you hook up in the elevator?” Jess squeals, and I shush her.

“Oh, my God, Jess, no.”

“And he sent you food?”

“It was from Sasabune.”

“You love that place.”

“I know.” But how did Ace guess?

“What the hell is he doing now?” Jess says, her forehead wrinkling.

“He’s making it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to associate with me in public.”

“You sure about that?”

I glance across toward Ace’s seat and a jolt of pure heat streaks through me, right to my core. He’s talking to Jax, but his gray eyes are locked on me. When our eyes meet, a shiver runs down my spine.

Shit.

My resolve not to play games with him comes back to me, so I straighten my back and edge my shoulders back. Maybe what he’s doing is putting the ball in my court. I’m the one in charge of how this evening plays out.

My first move?

A slow, wicked grin, my eyes locked on his.

His mouth twitches into a tight-lipped smile, and then he looks away, toward Eli, who has joined in the conversation with a raunchy joke.

Game on.

The conversation swirls around us, but I’m aware of his every movement, so it comes as no surprise when he stands up when a redhead approaches the table in the middle of the concert—the music is loud and poppy and the beat throbs in my veins—to whisper in Ace’s ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but my throat goes dry, and then he’s standing up, offering his arm to her and heading toward the dance floor without a backward glance.

Heat rises to my cheeks, and for a moment all I can do is fumble with the napkin in my lap. Then I snatch up my wine and take two long sips of it.

A nudge at my side catches my attention. “What are you waiting for?” Jess says into my ear.

“Nothing,” I say, putting the wine glass down and standing up.

Ace and the redhead are in the middle of the dance floor, the music blasting out over us as the pop star shimmies across the stage.

I’m almost on top of them when she leans in to say something. The music is loud, so she’s shouting, and I hear, “—what you did to her. Just tell me.”

He turns his face away from her and our eyes meet, and then I’m taking three more confident steps toward him, putting my hand on his arm. “Excuse me,” I say to the redhead. “I’m stepping in for this dance.”