Page 63

The Red Revolver is packed.

I can barely move as the loud bass thumps through my veins. I’ve had too much to drink, as has everyone else in the club. Casey’s to my left with a guy she doesn’t know grinding against her ass and two more in front of her.

I can feel a guy behind me, his hands on my hips, low and tight as he moves to the beat with me. I don’t know him, probably won’t ask for his name and when this song is done, we part our ways. It’s how nights like this go, and he and I both know it. I’m not taking him home, though. Judging by the way he moves, he wants me to, and he’d probably be fairly decent in bed.

Halfway through the song, I turn to face him. He’s hot, tall, built similar to Tathan, but he’s certainly not Tathan because he doesn’t make my skin flush and my heart race when I see him.

When I stare up at this guy, I can’t see what color his eyes are, though I know for a fact they’re not the brown I’ve been dreaming about.

The guy smiles down at me, his hands slipping lower on my hips pushing me into his. To my left, there’s movement and Casey squeals with what seems like delight.

Turning, I face her, hoping she’s okay and those dudes groping her haven’t crossed the line.

I’m met with someone staring at me and then the hands that were occupying my waist fall away, as if he knows he’s lost this chance for a happy ending tonight.

The man before me smiles.

I poke his chest exaggeratedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Protecting the pride.”

Right about then, a song I absolutely love comes on. “Blurred Lines.”

I reach for Tathan—more than likely the seven rum and Cokes I’ve had provoking me to do so—but that kiss and all the others he’s given me lately runs wild through my body, and lines truly are blurred. They’re fucking nonexistent right now.

The dance floor floods with people, and we’re smashed together. My arms lock around his neck, his fall to my hips, fisting the fabric of my dress between his hands.

Our bodies curve to one another, grinding to the beat, our breathing hot and heavy.

We say absolutely nothing. No words need to be said. Our bodies are saying enough.

Thinking of the kiss in the hall, I want his mouth on me, so I move my hands to his cheeks and pull his lips to mine. His beard scrapes my chin, but this kiss stops time.

He gasps, as though he can’t get enough, his tongue darting inside my mouth immediately.

Gliding his fingertips over my ass, he pushes his hips into mine, still moving to the beat.

He’s hard.

I’m wet.

Oh, the possibilities.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, gives me courage so I hike one leg up around his waist. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but we both start panting, hands frantic. We’re in a club and my friends see what we are doing and start making catcalls. The raucous shout of laughter brings us back to reality.

Goose bumps overwhelm me at the touches, but then they’re gone just as quickly because he pulls away. I can see the hunger in his dark eyes. No way did he wantthatto end, and pulling away seems to have caused him actual pain. His left hand rises and runs over the back of his neck seeming conflicted.

“Please don’t drive home like this,” he says, backing up again. He’s going to leave. I can see it in his eyes. “Take a cab.”

“Or you could take me home.” I wait to see what he’ll say next, knowing if we’re alone tonight, the deal’s off and we’re fucking.

Amalie! Don’t!

“No.” He shakes his head and leans in to whisper in my ear over the music. “Been there, done that. You’re going to be sober the next time I fuck you.”

He’s confident, isn’t he?

“Who says there’ll be a next time?” My lips move against his ear.

He smiles against my cheek. “All I need is one date. You should know that by now.”

“Cocky much?”

“Oh, I’m going to show youcocky,and youwillremember. . .” I swallow as he continues, his breath blowing over my ear in the most provocative way. “. . .it this time.”

Panties melt again.