“We need to clean up. There’s a room behind the kitchen that Laurent uses to crash.”
I grab both our shirts.
As we sneak into the hallway, I glance back at the empty dining room. A shadow flickers through the pink neon light. I take Tom’s hand and tug him after me.
“Run, Sapphire. Fast.”
He laughs, squeezes my hand in answer, feeling that same sweet thrill. Shirtless and breathless, we sprint down the corridor. We don’t stop until I punch Erin’s birthday into the keypad beside the door to Laurent’s crash pad. It clicks open, and we tumble inside.
The door barely shuts before I press Tom back against the wall, covering his mouth with my hand. Footsteps approach, then pause.
I look through the darkness, barely able to make out his face. Our noses touch. His breath heaves against my knuckles, lashes flickering as we wait.
Ten seconds feel like an eternity.
Ten seconds for our bodies to remember exactly where we’d left off.
Finally, the footsteps fade.
I release him and draw in a slow breath, oxygen filling my lungs again.
“That was a close call.”
Tom’s mouth curves into a dangerous smile, his growing hardness coming in contact with mine. A subtle tilt of his chin guides me into place.
It's not an invitation, it’s an order.
I drop down to my knees because he asked without asking, and I'm too far gone to pretend I'm not carved from the same sex-driven impulses.
We step back into the party like we never left. We weave through the crowd toward the dance floor and spot Tiffy, Naomi, and Baby, with her bodyguard making camp at the bar. The blonde hulk balances a tray while the girls line up a rainbow of radioactive shots on top of it.
How the hell did they—
Oh. Right. Calvin. I glance toward the stage. He’s deep into his set. Thank God.
Tom turns to me with that golden-retriever glint.
“This is insane. Looks like my best friend is friends with your best friend.”
“Small world.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Like a magnet, Baby spots him instantly. They crash into a full-body hug, and Tom forgets I exist.
Great. Third wheel.
I step back and join Tiffy and Naomi at the bar.
“Ordered yet?”
“Not yet.” Naomi rises onto her toes, waving for the bartender’s attention.
Tiffy jabs my side. “You’re the hottest guy on the island. Be useful.”
“I can do better.” I catch Erin at the far end, working the soda gun. Psychiatrist by day, club owner by night.
I lift my hand, the hard focus on her face softens the second she sees me. I lean over the bar and greet her with a quick kiss to the cheek.
