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Although it pains me, I reach around and loosen the death grip her legs have on my waist. Sloane drops them to the ground, complying even though the furrow in her brows tells me she’s a little confused.
“What are you doing?”
“Stopping this before we jump straight to list item number four.”
“Oh, right.” She pulls her dress down and casts an alarmed, but almost regretful, look at the erection tenting my pants. “We should head back inside.”
“Yes, we should.”
The moment the words pass my lips, Sloane starts walking without looking back to see if I’m following. She marches onto the dance floor, claims a spot, and starts to move. Her hands are in her curls, lifting them off of her neck, and the additional flash of skin has me damn near running to get to her. As soon as I’m behind her, she leans back into me, grabbing my hands and placing them on her waist while she sets a rhythm I’m all too happy to follow.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but I love every minute of it. Every roll of her ass into an erection I don’t even try to control because she’s so fucking happy to have it pressing into her. Every whiskey-laced kiss she gives me when she comes back from the kitchen with another drink in her hand. Every sultry smirk she throws over her shoulder as we work together to check off the third item on her list.
“You okay, Dom?”
She gives another swivel of her hips. The movement makes her scent waft up to me and tickle my nose. I don’t answer. I’m too caught up in the graceful curve of her neck and the curly black strands that graze her shoulders, demanding that I touch her there.
I obey. My fingers gliding over soft, creamy skin the color of honey. Sloane shivers at the touch and throws yet another lazy smirk over her shoulder. My heart does a flip in my chest as I realize why I couldn’t walk away even when I thought I wanted to: she fucking owns me.
The knot of emotions in my chest digs in deeper, making themselves at home right behind my rib cage. I can’t even begin to name them all, but I know they’re there and I know what they mean. Know it the same way I know whatever my parents had wasn’t love. I mean, the abuse and the cheating made that clear, but I also never saw them look at each other the way I know I look at Sloane.
Gripping her waist and pulling her back into a roll of my hips, I ignore the doubts running through my mind. The ones that tell me falling in love with a girl at the first college party I’ve attended is not only dumb but a terrible cliche.
It can’t be love.
The voice in my head shouts at me, searching for something, anything to explain away the thing happening to me. But no matter how hard I think about it, how long I wait, the tangle doesn’t go away.
I glance around the room. Bodies writhe all around us. Moving together to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. Every one of them can blame the shameless bumping and grinding they’re doing on the liquid sloshing around in their red Solo cups, but I’m not drunk. I never get drunk, so it has to be something else.
Something real.
Something more than alcohol-laced lust masquerading as love. And I know I’ll only find out if I get us out of here.
I brush her curls to the side, liking the way she shivers when my fingertips skim her shoulder, and lean forward to whisper in her ear.
“Do you want to get out of here, angel?”
She spins in my arms and nods. Her pupils are blown, hazel giving way to pools of molten gold that burn into me. “Yes, please.”
* * *
To my surprise, and relief, the absence of other people only seems to intensify our connection. Sloane grabs my hand, pulling me down the street and back towards the path Chris and I took a few hours ago when we walked over, which means she must stay on campus.
We take our time walking back, a slow stroll that gives me time to pull her into my side, feel the warmth of her body melting into me and notice how much the moonlight loves to caress her skin. Dancing over the elegant features of her face, illuminating the curls cascading down her back. Making her look even more like a celestial being that came down on a cloud from heaven just to capture my heart.
If that celestial being was drunk and stumbling over nothing the entire way back to her dorm.
When Sloane nearly falls for the third time in a row, I ignore her protests and pick her up, cradling her in my arms while she gives me directions back to her building, which is on the nicer side of campus near the cafeteria and student life center.
Everything around us is quiet without the gold heels she’s wearing click-clacking on the sidewalk, but I don’t care because she’s looking up at me with those soft eyes I know will bring me to my knees one day.
“What?” I ask softly, trying to hide how affected I am by the swirl of emotions I see on her beautiful face.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. You’re just a little too nice for a guy that screams trouble.”
“And you’re an exceptionally shitty planner for a girl who came out just to find it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
