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“What?” Veronica calls back.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, then take a sip of my drink. “Have you had enough fun yet?”
We’ve been here for hours, and I’m ready to go home, put on some comfy jammies, and crawl into bed with my dog, Bruce, as my heated-slash-weighted blanket. He makes for a great cuddle partner. Better than any man here could be.
Veronica shakes her head. “No! We just got here. Besides, I’m not leaving until I find someone to go home with.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. “You’re wasted. You’re not going home with anyone but me.”
“Stop worrying so much.” Her hands snake around my neck, pulling me in so that we’re dancing sensually now. She presses her mouth to my ear. “I’m barely drunk.”
“You’re insane.”
My head pounds to the beat of the music, and I take another sip of my drink. I’m not sure how this happened. How one drink turned into two, then three, and I don’t even know what number this is now. I haven’t been drunk since Ian’s wake five years ago. I refuse to have more than just a glass or two of wine at night when the kids are asleep, too scared to give into the urge, to give into the bottle and slip into nothingness.
Yet, here I am in a club, dancing in a thin dress, my body on fire as a man touches my thighs. His chest is hard against my back, and despite how crowded the dance floor is, I can smell his cologne over the body odor. And god, are the hands on this man large. He moves them to my stomach, his skin warm as one of the hands slides into my pants. The movement causes his growing dick to press right against my ass.
I made the mistake of going up to him when that pervert from earlier tried to shove a drink down my throat. He was the first person I saw that seemed like he would stop what was happening. When the other person he was with took off, I knew it was a good choice.
So why is my body humming on high alert? Why am I apprehensive that this man seems to be just as bad as the person who cornered me and tried to get me to drink a drink laced with roofies? His smile meets his beautiful ocean-blue eyes, and he appears sincere. But something deep within me tells me to run.
Maybe it has nothing to do with him, maybe it’s me. I’m not ready for this type of close contact. I’m not over Ian, and probably never will be. But this, the way he touches me, shoots pleasure through every part of my body. As much as his touch is foreign and unwelcome, I still crave it.
I close my eyes, forcing away the doubt. I’m here to have a good time. A man’s touch shouldn’t matter, if I don’t fuck him. And I won’t. I’ll go home the second Veronica is ready. We’ll get a cab and head back to the house, where my children sleep. We’ll wake up and start preparing for the hotel opening tomorrow. This will be a distant memory. One where I’ll reminisce about how a man felt, how his hands grazed my thighs and sent attraction zapping through me.
I deserve one night off from everything. One night, where nothing else matters, where I can be free and forget about the life I currently live. Whoever this man is, whatever his name is, he’s helping me to forget. So, I grab his hands and let them ride further up my thighs, beneath the hem of my little black dress.
Here we go. My one night of pretending. I’m twenty again, single, no kids. This is just a normal Friday night for me. Back in college. Before my life went to hell. Yeah, the college days weren’t filled with heartache. The only responsibility I had was getting good enough grades, so that I didn’t lose my scholarship.
God, what I would give to go back in time and hit refresh. I wouldn’t change anything. I’d only restart that day, the day he came home early to be with me.
The man’s hands squeeze my ass, and I bend slightly, resting my hands on my knees. His cock is hard now, pressing right against the crack of my ass, and I’m thankful for the barrier between us. If we were naked, he’d practically be shoving inside of me right now. This is the most action my pussy has seen in five years. It’s desperate, and I know if I slid my hands between my panties, I’d be slick with arousal.
As if to agree, my clit tingles, greedy for friction. I want more, and I’m just drunk enough to almost give in, but still clearheaded enough to know that I’m not ready for that. Still, it doesn’t stop me from rubbing up on this dude like a feral cat in heat. I tell myself I’ll walk away. Just one more song and I’ll peel myself off the floor and walk the fuck away.
I have the willpower; I know I do. And I’ll prove it to myself. One more song. We dance, and I allow myself to be free. My mind empties, while I focus on moving, understanding the feel of the tempo. Then, the beat changes. And I force myself to stop. I turn to my mystery guy, offering a smile. “Bathroom!” I yell.
He nods, releasing his grip on my ass. One of his hands moves up, gripping my wrist, and then he drags me off the dance floor. I gape at him, wide-eyed, as I stare at the back of his head. He pulls me down a hallway where there’s an insane line for the women’s bathroom, but we brush past everyone.
The club is large, so there’s a row of stalls in the women’s bathroom. The line moves quick as long as no one is puking or shitting, but the men’s line is nothing. Mystery guy kicks open the men’s room, shoves me inside, then locks the door.
“Excuse me!” I say. “What on earth are you doing?”
I glance around, noticing that this bathroom is way smaller than the others, only three urinals, one stall and two sinks. We’re the only ones in here, and it’s clean. It smells of lemon cleaner and there’s no trash or stains anywhere. So fucking different from the women’s.
He steps forward, crowding my personal space, and I step back. He’s quiet, and that scares me more than anything else. What the hell is going on? And why does my core clench around nothing, as if aching to be filled with this beast in front of me?
He walks toward me, and I take a step back, trying to keep my distance. But it doesn’t work. I just keep walking backward until my ass hits the countertop. I brace myself against the sink, gripping the cool tile to keep myself upright. His gaze remains on me, but he reaches for the paper towels hanging on the wall to the right, snatching them up into his hand.
Then he dabs at my dress, where some of my drink had spilled earlier. I push his hand away, taking the napkins from him, and do it myself, but it’s hard when I can’t remove my line of sight from him. His eyes are icy, like the Atlantic. Mesmerizing in all these weird ways I don’t want to explore.
I swallow, suddenly feeling overheated. He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing.
“You’re scared of me.” It’s not a question; he knows I am.
I don’t respond, but his lips twitch, as if he enjoys that. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, doll.” He drops his head, his lips grazing my ear. “I only bite when you beg for it.”
My eyes close, and I shake my head. No. I should not be turned on right now. I need to go home. Need to find Veronica and get us the fuck out of here before I do something I regret. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to compose myself. It’s really fucking hard to when you’re drunk.
