Page 52 of Heartless Sinner

I glared at him for interrupting but shook his extended hand anyway.

He jerked me toward him, then led me toward the dance floor just as a Pitbull song came on.

We danced, but I couldn’t have told you a thing about Toby.

He could’ve grown a second head behind me, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Brooks was standing too close to Vittoria.

His hand was still at her waist.

I hated that I imagined it was his body pressed against mine and not Toby’s.

His mouth at my ear. His erection hardening against my ass.

Brooks’s hand left Vittoria’s waist before he walked away from her.

My hips stopped moving.

Is he leaving?

I searched the crowd but lost sight of him. I was two seconds from leaving Toby and hunting his ass down when a hand closed around my arm from behind and yanked me away from Toby.

I knew that someone’s touch. Brooks had manhandled me enough over the years that my body could identify him before my eyes could.

Not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, I repeated last night’s mistake and let him drag me away.

It seemed nearly dying hadn’t taught me much.

He pulled me into a shadowy corner behind the upper staircase, where stacked lounge chairs blocked us from the party. The music dulled behind them.

My Toby Experiment worked perfectly.

“What’d I tell you about other men touching you?” Brooks shoved me against the railing.

I pushed at his chest, but he didn’t move.

His nostrils flared as he stared down at me.

“Men who dangle me over cliffs have no say in my life,” I told him. “I’ll grind my ass against whoever I want to grind my ass against.”

He spun me around and pulled me flush against him, just like I’d been with Toby. “You mean like this?” He settled his hands on my waist and rolled his hips against my ass.

His erection dug into me, thicker and harder than Toby’s had been. I couldn’t stop myself from moaning.

Damn him.

He gripped my waist harder. “God, you fucking drive me crazy.”

I yelped, then covered my mouth when he slapped my ass.

He crowded me tighter, his chest pressing into my back as he brushed my hair off my shoulder. “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

I rocked my ass against him, loving the way he groaned. “Why?”

“Because I’d punish that half-shirt-wearing motherfucker, then you. I’d cut off his hand”—he paused to ram his hips forward—“then his dick.”

“You’re not keeping your hands to yourself.”