“Then, do it.” He tossed her words right back at her, and what he’d realized about Cherisse was she had a competitive side, and maybe he’d be damned for always pushing those buttons to get her to that point, but he had zero regrets.

Her nostrils flared, and Keiran couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You are a piece of work,” she said. Definitely not a compliment.

“Hey, I’m not the one out here making outlandish claims,” he shrugged and secretly enjoyed the moment Cherisse snapped, grabbed his arm, and dragged him away from the chatter and music.

He wasn’t prepared for being pressed to a wall in the dimly-lit corridor that led to the bathrooms. Not an ideal place for making out, but if Cherisse didn’t care, why should he? Her lip gloss tasted like strawberries, and her tongue tasted like wine.

She tugged at his bottom lip and pressed her body against his. Shit, she’d definitely be able to tell he was hard. These slacks weren’t hiding a thing, but Cherisse didn’t seem put off by his erection. In fact, sweet God, her hips mimicked the thrust of her tongue against his, and Keiran’s hand dipped to her ass. Cherisse arched into his touch, her moans and his steady pants the perfect soundtrack to this moment.

She pulled away too soon, the drag of her teeth on his bottom lip wrenching all the curses he knew from his mouth. She pressed a hand to his chest and said, “Point made.” She gestured to his mouth. “Might want to wipe that off. It isn’t quite your shade.”

God damn. He wiped at his mouth. It was hard to follow her after that, but he refused to remain slumped against this wall, heart racing. The tiny smirk she threw over her shoulder was enough to send him up in flames. But he managed—on slightly wobbly legs—to walk back into the main hall, eyes glued to her swaying hips until he drew up next to her, stopping her forward motion with a gentle hand on her wrist. He needed a drink, preferably water, so he could douse his entire body.

She turned, not dislodging his hand yet, allowing him to keep touching her. To keep drinking her in. She’d pull away soon enough. The guests were occupied on the dance floor, but Cherisse was too aware of public perception to let this go on for too long.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she teased.

He found words from somewhere. “If you’re calling yourself a cat, then yeah. I’ll say so.”

One beat, then two. Back to silent stares and racing pulses, he supposed. Or was the beating pulse just him? He couldn’t quite tell if Cherisse was as off-balance as he was.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” The deep, mocking, familiar voice was like a splash of cold water on Keiran’s face. They both turned to face Sean Daley. Well, fuck.