“I’m gonna say hi, real quick,” he told Sierra, pasting on a smile that he hoped looked genuine enough as he made his way over to her. “Hi.” He pulled out his most charming smile, which wasn’t reciprocated. Cherisse kept blinking at him as if that would make him disappear. Her open body language from before vanished.

Cherisse tugged on her ponytail, wrapping the ends around her index finger as she frowned at him. “Are you here to make trouble?”

“Why would I do that? Sierra invited Dale and me. We worked on her album. Why do you always think I’m crashing something just because we end up in the same place?”

“I didn’t say you crashed.” Cherisse fiddled with the cupcake stand, moving the remaining cupcakes around, so they closed up the spaces left by cakes that had already been taken by guests. She kept at it even after all the spaces were filled. Anything to not look at him, it seemed.

He snatched up the cupcake she was pushing around, and finally, her head jerked up. She yanked the cupcake from his hand and plunked it back on the cupcake tower. This was getting ridiculous.

“Where’s Jerome? Not as interesting as you’d thought?” He sounded like a jealous fool, which he had zero reason to be, especially knowing Jerome had no real interest in Cherisse, and just because they kissed, he had no claims on her. Cherisse’s gaze sharpened like a predator scenting a weakness in her prey’s armor. Shit. Distract, distract, distract. “You can’t keep ignoring this. We’ve talked around it all week.”

“Sierra’s request was last-minute, so I didn’t extend my plus-one to anyone. Also, we have more important things to discuss than that.”

He couldn’t agree more. Like the way she’d gripped his head to deepen that kiss, that said she wasn’t shy about going after what she wanted. And she had wanted to turn up the heat level. He didn’t doubt that for a second. They could definitely discuss that. His eyes dropped to her glossy lips, remembering the feel of them against his.

“Stop.” Her voice sounded strangled, pleading. He was playing with fire here, but he took his time sliding his eyes back up to meet hers. “Stop looking at me like...like you...” She swallowed, fiddled with the cloth that covered the cake table.

“Like what, Cherisse?” he whispered.

Her chest rose and fell. “Like you’re thinking about it. Like you want to kiss me. Now. Again.”

He leaned in. “I am, and I do. Seems you want to, as well.”

She shook her head, jaw tight, eyes suddenly ablaze. Like she was telling him he wasn’t going to get to her with his blunt confessions. Like she wasn’t having any of his shit. This Cherisse—the one who wasn’t all smiles and calm, modulated friendly tones, the one who looked like she was thinking about kicking his ass—really got him going. He relished sparring with her.

“Please, you couldn’t handle me kissing you again. You think I’m all shook up by that kiss? Well, lemme tell you something, Mr. King, you’d be weak if I really put my back into a kiss.”