“I’m pretty sure I met him at Red Dress Run. Right before Ben went apeshit.”
“Ahhh,” said Jolie. “I see now why Ben was so…intimidated.”
“I’m gonna do a walk-by to see,” said Ophelia with a wink to Jolie.
As she walked past the front of the bar on her way to the restroom, she noticed his tall, lean frame with broad shoulders. Ophelia’s heart fluttered. She was almost positive that it was him, but she needed a better look.She kept walking, turning down the dark hallway that led to the restroom. Suddenly, memories of the concerning dream she had about him was whisked away to the back of her mind.
Scanning herself in the mirror in preparation for a potential encounter, Ophelia used her ring finger to wipe under her eyes, smoothing out her makeup. She was practically glowing in the dark, lighting up the dingy bar bathroom. Her golden-brown tresses matched her short flapper dress that showed off her toned runner’s legs. Turning her head upside down, she zhuzhed her hair, bringing in a bit more volume. With one more look in the mirror and a deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom. While passing the bar, Ophelia casually gazed in the man’s direction on the way back to her friends.Bathroom guy.It was him. What were the odds?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It took Herculean effort to ignore the magnetic pull from the mystery man at the bar, but Ophelia did. Her focus needed to be on Eva, ensuring she had a great night. The bar was starting to fill up, and the friends took their place against the stage railings, using their elbows to block off enough room for dancing.
Time passed quickly, and the dance floor was packed by the time Ivy Savage and the Drifters took the stage. Ivy was stunning in a skintight nude leotard and a rose-gold crystal-studded mini skirt that caught the rays of the stage lights. Her long-braided hair trailed like a cape as she took the stage, stomping on five-inch heels that accentuated her long, black legs and curvy hips. A vision of feminine power and sex.
Ivy’s raspy voice exploded throughout the room, wrapping the crowd in a bluesy, earthy melody that crescendoed into an electric guitar-driven rock anthem. Ophelia danced, whipping her hair around and shaking her hips, so the fringe of her dress twirled around her torso. She hadn’t felt this alive, this passionate, in a long time.
She used to chase this feeling in her early twenties, looking for the next energy high from a group of people, whether it was dancing at a club, meeting a stranger, partying at a concert, orseeing a new place for the first time. She loved that rush. Since then, she’d mellowed out a bit, still appreciating the rush but not staying out till four in the morning to find it.
Ophelia watched as Eva’s bright smile and sparkling dress radiated through the crowd. She was having just as much fun.
Unexpectedly, Ophelia felt a strong hand slide around her waist as she was spun around. Her eyes widened in surprise. It wasbathroom guy.
“Need a dance partner?” asked the smooth stranger as he placed both hands on her hips.
She grinned and shrugged. “I suppose.”
She didn't want to be rude, even though she knew she shouldn’t dance with him for long. One…or two songs wouldn't kill the girls’ night vibe. The mystery man began to dance, moving Ophelia gracefully in the crowded space. He grabbed her hand and spun her under his arm, then pulled her back into his chest. His scent fanned over her as he danced. He smelled like clay earth, nectar, and something acidic she couldn’t quite place. The combination was foreign and unique to him.
While they danced, the stranger pulled her to his chest for a couple of beats and expertly stepped away, allowing them to dance by themselves to the faster part of the song. But that didn’t last long. The sensual stranger reached for her again and again, and midway through the song, they were glued to each other.
Both of his hands gripped her hips as he held her tightly to him. Ophelia’s arms wrapped around his neck, and her hands hung loose, unsure if she was ready to touch him so intimately on his neck. Her instincts told her to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, but she held back. He, however, did not. As he rocked her hips back and forth with his, he slid his leg through hers and pulled her hips to him, forcing her to sit flush against his thigh. The move reminded her of that one scene fromDirty Dancing,and she was half expecting him to dip her all the way back and wrap her leg around him as he dry-humped her a la Patrick Swayze. But no, no. Ophelia was the one doing thedry-humping. The mystery man continued to grind Ophelia’s hips on him with his strong hands, and that familiar feeling zipped through her core, sending tingles all over her body. The sensation was building, and it felt so good, so intoxicating. She was losing herself…in front of her sisters.
In front of hersisters.
Opheliaaaa, her brain screamed.Snap out of it. Cool it down, girlfriend.
The band announced they were taking a break. So with much effort, she stepped out of the stranger’s embrace and slowly came out of her lust-filled fog, only to see the entire bachelorette party staring with mouths gaped open.Oops.
“I think I’m scandalizing my sister and her friends,” Ophelia said, giggling.
He huffed a laugh and stepped closer to her again, running his hands over her arms. “Yeah, can’t say I’m all that sorry about it. I’m Mateo, by the way.” His full lips smirked to the side, revealing a perfectly placed chin dimple, reminiscent of Elvis.
Ophelia took a moment to really look at him. She was floored by the full force of his gaze. It was apparent that he was also studying her as his eyes darkened during his full-body perusal of Ophelia. He was magnetic. Smoldering. Sex on legs. The man was devil-made purely to tempt women.
Done with her survey of Mateo, Ophelia smiled playfully and said, “I’m Ophelia. I think we met in the bathroom at Red Dress Run.”
Mateo extended his arm in a friendly handshake. As Ophelia placed her hand in his, Mateo leaned forward, lightly brushing Ophelia’s perfectly curled tresses from her left shoulder, and purred, “I remember well. It’s nice to formally meet you, Ophelia.”
He said her name, enunciating each syllable as if he was saying a filthy word.O-phe-li-a.
His finger grazed over the inside of her wrist. She was still holding his hand. Embarrassed, Ophelia dropped it and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
“How are you? The last time I saw you, a friend, or perhaps boyfriend, was yelling at you,” he said leadingly, running a hand over his sharp jawline.
“Ah, yes. Well, thatfriendis an ex-friend now.”
His right eyebrow lifted. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
