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The image of Lex’s hand resting on my chest, inches away from the curve of my breast, flashes before me. Argh, I need to get drunk. The tequila can’t come fast enough, the bartender lining up shot glasses and pouring the liquor into them accordingly.
After we knock back our first round, I order a second, ignoring the burn lingering inside my throat. They need to keep coming if I want to erase this entire night and every image of Lex touching my body.
By the third round, Eric abandons us. As predicted, some hot guy steals him away, and for all I know, he’s probably tied up in the back room. Not complaining, of course, Eric is kinky when he’s drunk, and he is never afraid to share the details the morning after.
“Look, Charlie, I don’t want to upset you, but if you ever need to talk you know I’m here, right?”
Emma’s offer is genuine. I know I can confide in her without the biased judgment. Plus, she’s a great listener.
“Thanks, Emma, but all I want to do is forget tonight ever happened. How did I go from no men in my life to a fiancé and ex-boyfriend?”
“Maybe it’s fate. Have you thought about that?”
Emma is a believer in fate, love, and destiny. It wouldn’t surprise me if she attends those finding-love seminars and writes affirmations on her bathroom mirror. Great for some, definitely not for me. Love has always screwed me sideways, and we didn’t have a great relationship until Julian came along.
“Or maybe it’s just the universe wanting to fuck me up big time,” I holler, throwing back another shot.
We laugh so hard, and for the first time tonight, my tense muscles begin to relax, and the world feels like a chilled place. The tequila is just what the doctor ordered.
A young, good-looking guy comes up to Emma and starts chatting with her. There goes my drinking buddy. I order another shot, but this time there’s no counting down. I down the shot, the burning no longer apparent.
“Hi, baby, can I buy you a drink?”
My skin crawls as the words linger. Oh God, what a loser. The man beside me looks like he stepped out of one of those muscle magazines, wearing a shirt that reads, ‘I Love Ass.’ Seriously, do guys think that will get them laid? I’m just about to tell him where to shove his drink and T-shirt when another voice stops me.
“She’s with me.”
I don’t have to turn and look, that familiar pull, the familiar scent forever engrained in my memory like a permanent fixture unable to move.
Sliding to my left, Lex is standing beside me, still in his suit but sans his tie. His chest is slightly exposed, revealing his tanned skin. He looks just like Eric had described him—drop-dead gorgeous. My walls are breaking, unable to deny how much I crave him, but the rational Charlie is now controlled by alcohol and is trying her best to wave her flag—the one with the poison symbol on the front also marked danger.
Mr. Muscles appears amused. “I wouldn’t leave her wandering the bar alone. A sexy little thing like her can really do some damage.”
Lex’s lips pull back, baring his teeth with an icy glare. The guy, a coward, backs off with his hands raised in the air calling defeat. I want to laugh, given the size of the guy, but I’m distracted by Lex’s presence. Suddenly, I’m aware that once again, Lex thinks he can control me. Inside my chest, my heart pounds loudly as I clench my fists into a tight ball.
“You didn’t have to do that. I can take care of myself!”
Just as he opens his mouth, Eric practically throws himself between us.
“Lex, thank you so much for sorting the door for us.”
What? How can Lex get us in, and when did Eric become best buds with him? I remind myself to grill him later, unable to think straight right now. I need to escape this torture, and scanning the room in panic, my thoughts to exit via the back door are foiled when Eric grips onto my arm, predicting my escape.
“Charlie, did you know Lex owns this place? I mean, seriously, how hot is this club.”
A wide smirk appears on Lex’s face as Eric continues, rambling on about every detail like the suck-up he is. I’m ready to kill Eric with my bare hands. Didn’t his parents teach him not to play with fire?
“Good evening, Mr. Edwards.” The bartender is quick to attend to Lex. “What’ll it be?”
“A round of tequila shots, Dylan. Can you send them to the VIP area?”
“Coming right up, sir.”
The bartender grabs the bottle and starts pouring the shots, aligning them on a tray.
Lex grabs my hand, much to my disapproval, and weaves me in and out of the crowd. Perhaps the earlier shots worked to my detriment, the room is spinning as we walk past people dancing. Eric, Emma, and her new boy-toy follow close behind us as we take the stairs up to another level.
The hostess greets Lex, practically throwing herself on him with her tits out on show. Stupid whore. He still holds onto my hand, burning through my skin like fire, yet I’m unable to pull away.
