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She grins at me, and we down our drinks together before putting the glasses on the counter behind us. I walk down the stairs in my heels, wishing they were the sensible ones I wear to the office instead of the flashy silver ones that match the skirt.
As soon as we walk into the crowd, it swallows us up, and I feel eyes on me as I pass. Judgement again. Men deciding if I’m worth pursuing. Men imagining me without my clothes on. They’re trying to decide whether I’m the kind of girl to go home with them, or if I’m only here to dance.
I close my eyes for a moment and let the music fill me up, urging me to move in time to the other people around us. There’s something about the heartbeat of a club that helps you to let go that even alcohol can’t compare to.
Then I feel Tessa’s hand on my wrist as she turns and smiles at me. She nods to a guy a few feet away with his eyes on me. He’s hot. Not like Emery, but better looking than a few of my college boyfriends. At least he’s tall, and his long black hair is pretty. He’s wearing a nice shirt and dark jeans.
He’s no Emery, but Emery’s an asshole, and this guy will do for tonight.
Our eyes meet, and I grin as I move toward him. The music is winning against my fears and memories. The crowd doesn’t want to part as much for me. It’s like pushing against the current instead of moving with it, and as I move toward the guy, bodies brush against me. Stray hands brush against my body, and I’m instantly aware of how alone I am in this place.
But I need to forget about last night.
When I get to Mr. Right Now, he’s grinning as his body moves to the music. His eyes wander over my body, and unlike when Emery watched me last night, I don’t get nervous. There’s no fire behind the look, no intensity that can’t be ignored. He’s just a guy thinking about what I’d look like naked.
I step closer to him and let the music roll through me, my body moving along with it. Mr. Right Now’s hand goes to my waist, and it’s gentle. Soft. About as sexy as Emery’s first kiss.
We’re looking into each other's eyes, and his hand slips under the fabric to touch bare skin at my waist. Any other time, I’d have pushed him away, but tonight, this is exactly what I came here for. An excuse to forget about Emery.
So, I smile. No words are needed, but he knows that I’m here for more than just dancing. I should be focused on this guy, but my eyes keep flitting through the crowd. I don’t even know what I’m looking for at this point. Maybe it’s Tessa, or maybe it’s something else.
Consciously, I focus on the guy in front of me as the music changes to a hip-hop beat. Maybe I just need to get worked up a little more, so I turn around and press myself against him. My skirt’s riding up, but I ignore it as our bodies move in time with each other.
His hand moves to my waist again, and I try to push myself to enjoy it, to do more than accept his touch. But I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I think about Emery. I think about his rough hands gripping and controlling me while the actual hand on me barely touches me, slowly sliding upward, closer to my breast.
No. I don’t want to be groped on the dance floor. I don’t even know if I want to follow through with this. Not when every touch just reminds me of what I’m missing, of the man I’m missing.
As his hand brushes against the top of my ribs, I push it down. He’s more insistent, and doesn’t take the hint. So, I step forward, and suddenly, the hand is gone.
Another replaces it, though. Strong fingers grip my waist and pull me against a body that feels nothing like the man I’d been dancing with. A body that’s built to control a woman. Hard and tight, and so different from any other man I’ve ever felt.
Emery.
I whirl around and see his smiling face looking down at me. Dressed in one of his many ten-thousand dollar suits, he looks out of place in a place like this where a pair of jeans isn’t against the dress code.
I start to ask how he knew I was here, but he puts his finger to his lips, shushing me. Then his hand goes back to my waist, and he turns me around before pulling me back to him.
What’s he doing here? My mind races with questions, but as his hand slips under the fabric just like Mr. Right Now did, the sensations finally match what’s in my mind, and the questions fade.
His body and mine match the rhythm of the music perfectly, and I lose myself in the movements and sensations. Even when his hand moves to my thighs, I don’t want him to stop.
I came to this club to forget about Emery Brooks, but now I know that he’s not a man that I can just forget. When his hand slips under my skirt, I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. All I can think of is that I want to leave this dance floor and take him back to my apartment.
His fingers brush the thong I’m wearing without losing his rhythm, and he growls in my ear, “It pisses me off to see other men touch you. I don’t want you going dancing without me.” It’s nearly as hot as the way he fucked me last night.
I’ve always been a sucker for a guy whispering in my ear, but the fact that he’s also being jealous and possessive makes it even worse. He made me want to throw things today, but he’s here now, and he never sees the same girl twice in a row. Did I misread something?
When I look up at him, he’s staring at me, and the fire in his eyes is exactly the same as I remember it from last night. The same desperate need for something, and he’s completely focused on me. Not on my breasts, which are on display for him. Not on the fact that his fingers are brushing against my soaked thong.
No, he’s focused on my eyes. Emery’s thinking about me, not just my body. Somehow, that’s sexier than when he looked like he was going to devour me last night. He may be playing my body against my logic, but he wantsme.
“Want to do something different tonight?” he asks.
I can’t hear his voice over the music, but I know what he’s saying. Though I’m sure it’s because I’m reading his lips, it feels like I’m reading his mind. Like we’re connected in a way that other people on the dance floor couldn’t understand.
“Tessa doesn’t expect me to come home,” I say, and he bends down to kiss me. His lips crush against mine, and he breathes me in as his tongue finds mine. The scent of his cologne, dark and smokey, swirls around me, protecting me from the scent of sweat that nearly overwhelmed me when I stepped onto the dance floor. His other hand goes to my breast, mauling it through my top, and I’m putty in his hands.
The music continues, but I barely hear it as my mind shifts. I don’t bother maintaining the rhythm. In fact, as our kiss deepens, I stop moving entirely. We stand in the midst of the crowd, completely still, while our tongues dance.
