3. Marvin haswaytoo many similarities to my father.
Seeing the warning signs flash in front of my eyes, I leaned into Jorgie’s ear and whispered that I was going to “weed the garden” the instant I got home. When she slid her index finger under her nose, signaling she understood my coded statement, I fled for the taxi without a backward glance.
I was still in the process of working out how I was going to inform Marvin of my decision when Hugo arrived on my doorstep. As much as Marvindemandingthat I leave Jorgie’s house irked me, I must tread carefully when it comes to him. I’m already struggling paying my mortgage payment as it is without adding exorbitant tuition fees into the mix.
When I agreed to become a partner at Gardner and Sons, part of my contract was that they were to pay for the last two years of my university fees. If that contract slips from my grasp before I officially take my position in a year’s time, I'll be required to pay back any installments they paid on my behalf. Since that is a debt I cannot incur, I will tread cautiously when it comes to Marvin.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I lift my eyes to Hugo. His lip twist as his panty-combusting eyes scorch every inch of my skin. His heavy-hooded gaze has my arousal surging through my veins and flooding my nether regions.
“Now that we have that out the way, can we continue with our night?” I squeak out, fighting the urge to squirm in my seat.
I lift my cocktail glass to my mouth, hiding my flushed cheeks. My eyes widen when Hugo places his hand on the base of the glass and tilts it higher. My nose hairs tingle when the freezing cold liquid slides down my throat to settle in my flipping stomach. Once all the scrumptious, but bitterly cold goodness is consumed, Hugo removes the glass from my grasp and places it on the countertop.
After a quiet word with a female bartender, he grips my hand in his and stalks towards the mass of people cavorting on the wooden dance floor. Halfway there, a sharp pain twinges my brain. I dig my heels into the plush carpet and lift my spare hand to my temple. Hugo angles his head to the side and eyes me curiously.
“Brain freeze,” I cringe.
“Blow hot air on your nose,” he instructs, his words muffled by a breathless chuckle.
Opening one of my squinted eyes, I glare at him. “What?”
Apparently, my ability to think straight around him doesn’t just hamper my astuteness. It also affects my hearing.
He smirks a heart-fluttering smile. “Blow hot air onto your nose.”
A small smile tugs on my lips when he demonstrates his instructions by puckering out his plump lips and fanning his nose with his breath. Deciding I can’t look anymore ludicrous than I already have tonight, I blow hot air onto the tip of my nose. The more I blow, the more my brows lower.
“I can’t believe that actually works,” I say, once the pain of a knife digging into my skull vanishes. “How did you know that?”
Hugo grins. “You’re not the only one with cool party tricks,” he says with a bold wink.
“You thought my dancing was cool?”
“Not at all,” he replies, his tone unapologetic.
My bottom lip drops into a pout. Heat blemishes my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head when his index finger twangs my protruding lip.
Drawing my lip back in, he says, “It was a little dorky andtotallyuncool, but every person in this club under the age of 21 is looking at you like Beyoncé just graced them with her presence.”
My nervous eyes peer around the space. Not quite everyone, but a large number of young adults with an under-21 illuminated band secured on their wrists are gawking at me. A few are smiling, a handful are laughing, and a group of males are winking while suggestively gyrating their hips. Their cheeky flirting halts the instant they cop the wrath of Hugo’s firm glare.
My brain freeze turns into a rush of giddiness when Hugo yanks me in close to his body so my chest is flush against his. “Are you ready to learn one of my party tricks?” he asks, glancing into my eyes.
Not giving me a chance to reply, he dips the top half of my body and rolls his hips. I stumble, unsteady on my feet, when he flips me back up and swings his hips in rhythm to the music thumping around us. Unlike many men before him, Hugo’s dance moves aren’t robotic and stiff. They are uninhibited and fluid.Captivating.He moves in a way that shows how well in tune he is with his own body.
Although we “hung out” a lot when we were younger, we’ve never danced like this. The vibe at a club has never failed to excite me. Tonight is no different. But it is even more energetic dancing with Hugo. I’ve dreamed of nights like this. I’m tempted to pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming.
When Hugo pulls me in closer to his body, I grip his shoulders and get lost in the magic of dancing with a guy whose moves would rival the likes of Channing Tatum. In a haze of pussy tingles and shaky steps, we are quickly swamped by a mass of writhing bodies in the middle of the dance floor. The crowd mingling around us are thumping with bountiful energy, spurring a cluster of excitement to trickle through my veins. The intoxicating smell of sweat on heated skins filters through my nose.
When I lift my eyes, the music fades to a hushed buzz. With the combination of the seductive scent mingling in the air and Hugo’s heavy-lidded eyes locking on mine, my libido hits a level I’ve never felt. Hugo encircles his arms around my waist, and we spend the next three songs dancing as if there are no clothes between us. The tension between us is static, like a storm brewing on the horizon, full of electric energy just waiting to combust.
When the music switches to a higher tempo beat, Hugo releases me from his grasp and takes a step backward. My body screams in protest from the loss of his contact, but my attention remains focused on him.
He dances like he is auditioning for theMagic Mikesequel. If it weren’t for the smell of sweat lingering in the air from the mass of bodies dancing together, I would’ve sworn I’d ordered my own personal strip-a-gram. Except, unfortunately, this stripper keeps his clothing on.
Catching my lust-filled gaze, Hugo’s eyes roam over my face before they run down the length of my body. When his gaze returns to mine, my breath hitches. His pupils are wide, his eyes have darkened, and the undeniable look of lust is beaming from his heavy-lidded gaze.
Like they could get any more seducing, his dance moves become more provocative and entrancing. Pussy-thumping good. Fighting the urge to dig the dollar bills out of my pocket and tuck them into the waistband of his jeans, I close my eyes, lift my arms into the air, and let the music overtake me.
