Lessons In Revenge (Daredevil Book 2)

You wanna cop a feel?

I had no idea why I'd agreed to go to another one of the damn parties, the only good thing about the stupid things was the food.

The food was great, it always was, but the company not so much. The Dashwoods were the type of people you stayed away from, not sat at tables and had champagne with.

I rolled my eyes as I watched Austin shift in his seat for probably the hundredth time, his knee bouncing up and down, anxiously. It was driving me nuts.

When his leg continued to bounce for several more minutes, my patience ran out and I gripped his knee, silently letting him know to cut it the hell out. His eyes shot to me, unfocused, and I gave him an annoyed look.

Rolling his eyes, he turned away and went back to watching his parents and sister as they stood across the ballroom talking to a group of boring, stuck up, rich, pompous assholes.

I could tell it was bothering him that they hadn't even acknowledge he was there, and that his seat wasn't even at their table.

Austin's family were assholes, that was a known fact, and as much as I didn't get along with Austin, deep down I knew that he was actually a good person. His family on the other hand were just plain assholes, and they made sure to always find ways to make him feel that he wasn't a part of their family because he refused to be an absolute asshole like the rest of them were.

They sat him at a table furthest away from their family table, forgot his birthday, never called for the holidays, and refused to acknowledge any of his achievements. Yet forced him to attend every party they threw in fear of creating any public drama that would cast a dark light on their family name in the media.

Sighing tiredly when his knee resumed its anxious bouncing when I pulled my hand away, I tapped his shoulder and stood up.

"Alright, come on, we're dancing," I told him, gathering my long dress so I wouldn't trip on the hem.

Letting his eyes slowly take me in, making my breath catch in my throat, he shook his head. "I don't dance, you know that."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't care, get your ass up. I look hot as hell and I did not spend hours getting ready to sit at a table all night."

Smirking, he stood up and held his hand out. "Well when you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

Placing my much smaller hand in his, I nodded once, and let him lead me to the dance floor.

Once on the dance floor, I turned toward him, and placed my free hand on his shoulder, while he placed his on my waist, and began swaying to the slow song the band was playing.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance," I told him, accusingly, lifting an eyebrow.

"I said I didn't dance, I never said I couldn't," he replied, smirking, before twirling me around.

I glared, playfully. "I really do hate that you're so good at almost everything. It's unfair."

He chuckled, resting his hand on the small of my back, making the skin left exposed by my dress under his hand burn. I really hoped that he never found out how much he actually affected me, because I would never hear the end of it.

We danced silently for the remainder of the song, with the temple of my head resting on the side of his jaw, his thumb brushing the skin between my thumb and index finger. It was nice. Really nice. And weird.

This was Austin, and even though we'd slept together on two different occasions, being this intimate with him was a strange feeling. It was strange because I didn't hate it, and it felt natural when it shouldn't.