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CHAPTER 5
∞∞∞
The dance floor is more crowded when we step on it again. I like a bit of personal space and wouldn’t have gone back out here again by myself, but Dean uses his magic again so there’s room for us to dance. It’s not like we’re using a whole lot of it, but it’s nice to not be stuck between the bodies of a bunch of sweaty strangers. Now don’t get me wrong. I see the irony in that. I’m very much stuck against the sweaty body of someone I would have considered a stranger only a week ago.
He pulls me against him before starting to move again. We’re front to front while we both try to hold a drink in one of our hands. My free hand is on his shoulder. Which once again does things to me. My chest feels light and my pulse is quickened. I like men with broad shoulders and firm arms, and Dean ticks off all of the above. I barely register which song is playing when we dance some more. I get lost in the sensation of being close to Dean and moving, and the rest of the club seems to disappear. Suddenly going out again next week doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. I can give up my book boyfriends for a night of dancing.
“This is more fun than I thought it would be,” I tell him as my hips do a thing I didn’t know they could do.
“You’re not really a club tiger is what you’re saying?” Dean asks.
“Not my regular scene, no. I’m more of a dinner and a movie kind of girl.” I look up at him as he stares down at me. The height difference between us is absurd. I’m not small by any means, but Dean is just very tall. Now that we’re both bringing our heads near the other, our lips are almost touching and it’s distracting me from our conversation.
“I want nothing to do with dinner in my free time,” he says earnestly while his hand moves from my ribs to the small of my back. “Dinner is work, not playing.”
I nod in understanding. If I would be working with food all day, I’d want to do something else to unwind as well. I startle when suddenly someone is pressed against my back again. The person is pressed so closely to me, I’m too stuck to turn around and see who’s it is. Going by Dean’s lack of reaction it’s one of the guys.
When I hear Jonah say my name, my body relaxes. My temperature rises significantly however. The club is hot all by itself but having two men dance against me makes it even warmer. Being halfway through my second alcoholic beverage isn’t helping as well. I always get warm from drinking.
Dancing with Dean is easy. He just takes over my body and I go along with it. But now that there’s two men both moving in different directions, I get a little motion sick. I wonder what we must look like from the view of a bystander and this visual of a big mess of tangled limbs makes me laugh.
“What are you laughing about?” Jonah asks as his hand shifts to my stomach.
“I’m imagining what our dancing must look like for the people out there.”
“That’s assuming they can even see you,” Dean says. “For all you know it looks like Jonah and I are dancing together.”
My head falls back against Jonah’s chest as I laugh. His chest is just as firm as Dean’s is and I bask in the feeling of being held by these men. While I write stories for a living and see a lot of plot twists coming from a mile away, I somehow hadn’t thought that moving back home after breaking up would have me end up between two men dancing in a nightclub. I’m not complaining though. Not all surprises are bad.
Dean pushes a loose strand of my hair away from my face. It’s stuck against my skin. The touch of his fingers against my cheek seems almost electric. When I look up, I find him already looking at me and every muscle in my body tenses in a tingling anticipation and my breath catches in my chest. Before the moment can lead anywhere, Jonah says Dean's name. He breaks eye contact and nudges his chin at him.
“Cherry is causing a scene over at the bar,” he explains and Dean sighs. He looks back down at me and stops dancing. “I’ll go help,” the tall blond says while I reluctantly let go of his clammy shirt. He points at Jonah and says he owes him, which Jonah agrees to.
“What’s happening?” I ask as I see Dean walk through the crowd, and go to the bar. I see an arm that’s full of bracelets which I figure belongs to a girl with some people around her, but the dancing crowd around us makes it difficult to see. I mostly see the backs of the people that stand nearby.
Jonah takes my empty glass and hands it, along with his own, to one of the waiters who walk through the crowd. With both hands free, I’m suddenly very conscious of what to do with them. Do I make fancy dance moves too? I kind of liked having my glass to hold onto. I settle on holding one of my hands in Jonah’s while his other hand is on my hip. He brings his mouth to my ear and starts explaining what’s happening.
“Cherry is… Well, Cherry. That isn’t even her real name. I have no clue what her real name is. She went to high school with Dean. She earned the name Cherry there since she was known for taking guys’ cherry if you catch my drift. The name stuck. As far as the story goes, Dean is one of the only boys she went to school with who didn’t sleep with her. Somehow it made her respect him and she listens to him. I can tell you, there’s not a lot of people out there who she listens to. I didn’t see the beginning of what’s happening, but from what I’ve gathered another girl caught the attention of the guy Cherry was flirting with all night. She doesn’t take rejection very well, and she’ll probably try to take it out on the other girl. Dean will talk some sense into her before I need to call in security.”
I listen to him and both the sound of his voice and the air he moves with his breath so close to my ear are giving me shivers.
“That’s sweet of you, fixing it without calling in security. You really turned into a sweet guy, didn’t you?”
He laughs. “Not even close, Mor.”
“Oh, don’t try to act all tough. I saw the umbrellas.”
He twirls me around so I face him, and I place my hands on his pecs. “The fact that I care about getting people home safely, and that I don’t want Cherry to get kicked out if I can prevent it, doesn't make me a sweet person.”
His hand lands on my lower back and he gently starts moving it lower. I lift my gaze to meet his and find his green eyes staring at me. The dancing has turned into a gentle grinding as he pushes one of his legs between my knees. I see the look in his eyes darken and the sweet fun-loving boy I was dancing with mere seconds ago turns into a wild temptation. My mouth actually runs dry. I’ve read about that happening, but I’ve never experienced it myself. It leads to me licking my lips though, and I see how his eyes follow the movement of my tongue. He lowers his hand until he is cupping my ass, and body parts that aren’t involved in this conversation respond to his touch.
“So how bad do you want me to be?” he says in a low voice that I swear resonates all the way to somewhere in my toes. I’m at a loss for words, just wanting him to use that growly voice again. The whole atmosphere changes and I’m convinced I can see electricity sparkle if I look any closer. My hand rubs small circles on his pec and I watch myself do it. It’s mesmerizing.
I remember Jonah in high school. Right around the time I fell in love for the first time, Jonah started partying. There’d been enough girls who told me about all Jonah did to them. He never treated them badly, but it never lasted long between any of them either. I never understood what those girls saw in him at the time. Why would you willingly go out with a guy who you knew would be done with you in no time? But they all kept going for him. I just never realized not all girls were looking for true love at the ripe age of sixteen and for some, Jonah was exactly what they searched for. A small moment in time where he was theirs, and a lot of fun for them for as long as it would last. Now that I wasn’t hyper focusing on true love, I could see the appeal. My body was ready to give in to just being with someone for the sake of being with someone.
“Why don’t you show me how bad you could be,” I say in a small moment of bravery, in a voice that’s so seductive I don’t even recognize it myself.
“You sure?” he asks me while his lips touch my cheekbone. My heart starts pounding to the beat of the techno song that’s blasting through the club and I’m panting.
