It happened slowly.<br/><br/>Almost too slowly to notice, really. But bit by bit, people were leaving the immediate vicinity around Kota and I.<br/><br/>As each sentence in the conversation passed, the crowd around our little group got smaller. They were either turning away from me entirely and using a canned pick-up line on another female to try and score better than Curry, or ambling off and fading into the mist of the rest of the party-goers in search of some food or alcoholic beverage. The producers also excused themselves or faded away until just Kota was left, holding my hand, and I was sipping the water he’d given me wondering if I needed to check my deodorant or if there was something in my teeth to scare everyone off.<br/><br/>The source of the mass exodus, however, had everything and nothing to do with me. The two glasses of alcohol I’d had did nothing to dull the shiver that ran up my spine as I finally realized just what happened as I feel a pair of dominant eyes caress every inch of my form.<br/><br/>I turned, dropping Kota’s hand in the process, and found myself almost within arm’s reach of the host, Marlon Fontana. The confidence and magnetism he exuded while simply striding up to us and being himself with that practically smug smile hit me like a ton of bricks. Each one filled with more lust than the next. My body immediately shifted to face his, almost as if strings attached to my hips were tied to his. It was powerful, heady, and more potent than any drink could’ve ever been.<br/><br/>None of this, however, excused rude behavior.<br/><br/>He completely dismissed Kota – treated him more like an errand boy than a guest at his party – before turning his gaze on me and assuming the role of director. That gaze lit my skin on fire. Quicker than I could’ve thought possible, his predatory eyes were making muscles that should have never even been awake respond and tighten low in my belly. My ass clenched tight around the plug held there when he shifted his shirtless body close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his skin.<br/><br/>That physical lust voodoo didn’t mesmerize me enough though to turn me into pliable goo and kick my heels into gear to follow his whims. His words touched a flare to my temper that I knew immediately lit in my eyes. Host or no host to this party, his home or not, talking to my friends like that was a non-negotiable.<br/><br/>“Didn’t your mommy teach you any manners, Mr. Fontana?? That’s no way to treat your guests,” I said. The words were quickly drawled out with that sassy lilt before I could call any of them back. One hand on my hip, I couldn’t seem to stop the tirade. “Shots are also a waste of perfectly good whiskey.”<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://ss.cdn.ztod.com/501/3340/120527.jpg)</div>In for the penny, in for the pound, right? He could kick me out on my round ass, or he could pick up the bait. I’d pretty much just insulted and reminded him he had that power all in one breath, but watching the way his gaze practically planned his attack on how to eat me up, I very much hoped he decided putting up with my mouth was worth it.<br/><br/>Turning to Kota, who’s jaw had dropped at not only Marlon’s audacity, but I’m sure mine too, I patted his bicep and nodded my head towards the crowd. No reason for him to go down with the ship. “If you’ll check in with Megs, darling, I’ll be okay. I think Mr. Fontana and I should discuss some rules of etiquette…”<br/><br/>My eyes are back on Marlon at that point and my feet carry my swaying ass past him and towards a sitting area more off to the side in the grass than near his original destination. I wanted to be different. My temper made me want to leave my mark on this man. I shoot back at him over my shoulder one last verbal punch. I wasn’t going to be like all the other women who simply catered to his whims and fall prey to his wads of cash, pretty words, and confident swagger.<br/><br/>“You might be a little underdressed for that conversation though, Mr. Fontana.”<br/>