Yeah. Fuck no.
I reach her within seconds, shoving the man away who’s barely paying attention to whichever body he wanted to grind on.
I’m gritting my teeth, my jaw clenched so tight that I probably look raw with rage.
Unfortunately for me, that’s when Cece decides to turn and face me, her coat fully off, showing that creamy, glowing skin in her black tank top.
Unable to resist any longer, I circle my arms around her waist. Her skin damp and cold with sweat. I imagine that the sweet, delicious sheen is traveling all the way up from her belly. Because I can see the dewy skin glistening on her chest. Her throat.
And there’s a different kind of sheen on her lips.
Christ, I’m going to throw away all of her matte lipsticks when I get home.
Don’t mess with her makeup, moron.
“Levi.”
I see those red-painted, gleaming lips form my name. But the sound doesn’t reach me. Maybe she didn’t even say my name, just mouthed it.
But I’m fucking desperate to hear whatthisCece sounds like, so I lean forward. My ear tingling when her lips brush against it.
“Are you going to dance or just stand here?”
I barely make out her words as they drown under the music. But a startled laugh escapes my throat when I turn to look at her face forming a scowl that is probably near-identical to mine.
My shoulders move first, then my hips try to mimic hers, because this woman didn’t even pause her dancing. Not even when she saw me glaring.
Soon, we’re moving as one, jumping as one. My heart pounding in my chest with the sheer force of letting go.
Letting go ofeverything.
Not just my mission to find her here and bring her home. Not just the pressure of fixing things under the guise of a sacrifice she never demanded from me.
But the exacting expectations our last names brought.
The constraints we put around ourselves for staying in a box where no blemish or taint can reach our reputations—and by extension our businesses.
We’re not Astor and Wentworth heirs here.
We’re Levi and Cece. The versions of ourselves that we were never allowed to be. And I kind of like the way my chest loosens up at the thought.
She’s twirling around me, her body still keeping contact with mine like she needs the assurance of my presence.
Or maybe I’m deluding myself because I need that touch. I need to feel her muscles coiling and moving in my embrace. The vibrations under my palm when she laughs and squeals as her third ‘this-is-my-song’ comes on. When she screams the lyrics that I try—and fail—to sing along to.
Because she’s so far from the Cece that I’ve been witnessing these past few weeks. So I need a little movement to wash away the numbness that had enveloped her—as silly as that sounds.
Both versions have my love. But this one has me…unleashed.
So I tell her exactly that, pulling her tighter against my chest and nearly shouting over the music as I bend down while she stretches up toward me “We’refucking unhinged!”
She looks up at me, neon lights flashing across her face in shifting colors.
Then she laughs. The sound hits me harder than any drink ever could.
A cheeky grin spreads across her face as she hooks her arms around my neck and proceeds to grind her whole body against mine.
My cheeks ache from smiling so much, but I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
