Page 125 of Obey

Her palm presses against my chest, right where my heart hammers against my ribs. "And who’s guarding you if they're busy?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

I look down at her, at the way the dim light catches in her hair. My hands tighten on the wall beside her, needing an anchor.

All I can do is kiss her again, slower this time, deeper. She sighs against my mouth, her fingers slipping into my hair as she draws me closer.

I can feel the stress leaving my body, the tightness in my chest easing with every slow movement of her lips against mine.

When we finally pull apart, she smiles up at me as she tries to wipe away some of her lipstick on my lips. “Better?”

My voice is gravel. “Better.”

She smiles, the softness at odds with the glint in her eyes. "Good. Now fix your hair and let's get back in there so we can find our boys before I have to go to jail for murder."

I don’t want to leave this hallway, but Sloane gives me that look; one that says she’ll drag me back in kicking and growling if I try to stay hidden too long. So, I do as I'm told, then wrap my arm around her waist, not giving a fuck how it looks to them.

We slide back into the ballroom. The music swells again, laughter and chatter bright and purposeless as coins dropped on marble. But for once, it doesn't matter. Not with her body pressed close to my side as if she's reminding the whole room exactly where I belong.

I feel the stares. I always do. But for once, it doesn’t matter. Because she’s shimmering at my side, her hand still warm against my forearm, and she doesn’t falter. Doesn’t flinch.

Nate looks up when we reach the table, his gaze moving between Sloane and me before settling on my face. His brows knit in a silent question.

I give him the smallest nod, assuring him I’m okay, and I watch as some of the worry bleeds from his shoulders.

Sloane slides into the seat beside me as Jace strolls up a moment later, his hand grazing my shoulder as his way of checking in, making sure I’m grounded.

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Told you that dress would make you forget the rest of the world,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin.

I don’t answer, just shift my focus to Sloane as she gracefully accepts a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. I settle deeper into my chair, the tux strangling me less than it did thirty minutes ago.

Because they're all right here.

thirty-one

Public Record

The gala has settled into a different rhythm now, the sharp edges blunted by alcohol and conversation.

I’m standing at the edge of the dance floor, halfway through my second glass, when I feel a presence behind me. Close enough that I catch the scent of sandalwood and Angels' Share cologne.

Jace stands close behind me, his chest nearly brushing my back as the band shifts to something slower, sultrier.

“Dance with me, Sugar.” The way he says it, teasing, that Cuban lilt turning every word into something filthy, makes it feel like a dare.

I turn my head just enough to see his profile. The candlelight catches the gold in his skin and the slow, confident curve of his smile, like he already knows what I’ll say.

“Sorry, I don’t dance.”

“Oh, really?” His voice deepens, a conspiratorial rumble. “Because if I remember correctly, you dance quite well. Or is that only reserved for the tops of tables?”

My breath stutters, and I glare at him as try to hide my smile behind the press of my lips.

“One dance,” I say, placing my glass on a passing tray.

Jace’s hand finds mine and he leads me toward the center of the floor, and I’m way too aware of every eye that tracks us.

The music wraps around us as Jace's hand finds the small of my back. He's playful from the start, spinning me out before drawing me close again, flashing that wicked grin whenever I stumble trying to keep up. To anyone watching, we're just two colleagues having a little fun.

Then he turns me straight into Elias's waiting arms.