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“Oh.” Overcome with compassion for him, I clasp my hand over his that’s resting on the counter. “Was it the same guy?”
“No, but same MO. Your look—dark hair, dark, bottomless eyes I could get lost in, and a heart-shaped, expressive face.” He sighs. “Women who were vulnerable, sensitive, and understatedly enticing.”
I don’t know what to say about how he describes me. “Uh… That’s…”
He desperately clutches my hand in his. “I’m sorry for how this job turned out. Damn that goddess.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t this the job?”
“She wanted me to involve you, and what I had to do to him?Heridea,” he says then almost yells, “Instant Karma made me do it!”
I laugh hysterically. Maybe it’s the drug and alcohol still in my veins or maybe it’s because with the absurdity of my life, that sentence makes sense. “I need to put that on a shirt,” I joke.
After a moment, my mirth breaks his anger, and Dante joins my laughter.
When I settle a bit, I ask, “The social media hashtags are her thing too, huh?”
He nods and frowns. “I was hoping we could have more fun before the night turned…dark.”
“The party isn’t over.” I take his hand and lead him out of the bathroom to where several people are dancing.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Dance or our fake date is over, pretty boy,” I taunt.
Once we start to move to the rhythm, I realize this is either a really good idea or a really bad one. The remaining alcohol in my system is still coloring my decision-making process, so if I were to take a wild guess, I would say an incredibly bad idea.
Dante doesn’t grind into me, allowing this to be a dance among friends, but as the bass rattles my insides, I get lost in the beat. First, my hand drapes over his shoulder, then my other hand slides down his strong pecs.
His hands find a place on my waist, and we move in sync, the distance between our bodies shrinking.
I don’t dare look up into his absurdly seductive sky blue eyes. Instead, I close my eyes and let the music sweep me away.
“Tessa?” He drops his mouth down to my ear. When I don’t respond, he calls my name again. “Tessa?”
“What?” I ask without looking at him.
His hand slides up around my neck, positioning me for a kiss.
My body is wondering why I’m fighting my attraction, but my mind and spirit are holding on to past lessons learned. Love and lust never end well for me.
My hips betray me, and I press against him. His thumb traces my bottom lip, but I keep my eyes closed.
Once I open them, he will see the need in my eyes and act on it.
And I willwanthim to act on it. Our bodies are too close and yet not close enough.
A swirl of fear starts in my gut—fear of the pain when this turns out to be nothing more than a prank, or worse, when he sees the real me and rejects who I am.
Seeing his face every day after? No. I can’t deal with feeling less than all the fucking time, and so what if we might last for more than a night? Then I will have to watch him trade me in for someone else after I lose my heart.
No. I can’t do this. All these painful thoughts gain momentum, and a blast of energy shoots out of me.
A guy crashes into us, and I tumble to the floor, the impact waking me from the trance I’m in.
Dante scoops me up. “You okay?”
Fortunately, he doesn’t do the macho thing and get mad at the poor guy who I psychically shoved.
