Page 3 of Ava After Midnight (Chaos and Chemistry #2)

Chapter Three

AVA

D omingo’s hands steady me as we step into Fever, and I’m already addicted to his touch. Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life, singing, screaming for more. The club swallows us in shadow and heat, the bass so powerful it matches the throb between my thighs.

“Another round!” Zoe’s voice cuts through the haze wrapping around my thoughts. She’s waving that black Amex like a white flag of surrender to bad decisions. “Body shots this time!”

Matthew would die if he saw me now. The thought makes me grin, wild and reckless. There’s nothing Matthew hates more than whatever I think is fun, and the realization is as uncomfortable as it is sudden.

I wanted to go hiking for our first anniversary, and all he had to say for himself was that “bugs are too abundant in July, I’m not doing that.”

For my birthday, I wanted to travel to Greece. He could afford it, and my birthday is in October, which would be the perfect time to travel. It’s the off-season, and things are cheaper there when tourists aren’t swamping every cobblestone street.

He shut it down with the excuse that the beginning of the last fiscal quarter is a very important time for the firm. Instead, I got dragged on a ski trip he took with a client.

I hate the snow.

“You’re absolutely sure about this, princesa ?” Domingo’s breath is hot against my ear, bringing me back to the heat of the moment. His accent is thicker, laced with something seductive. The nickname shivers down my spine in a way that has nothing to do with the club’s air conditioning.

“I’m not sure about anything anymore.” The confession slips out, too honest, too raw. But the tequila’s taken root in my bloodstream, and his proximity is making me stupid.

The new bartender lines up the shots, and Jade hands out salt and limes like communion wafers at a church of debauchery. Someone knocks into me, and the salt against the back of my hand spills over. Grains wedge underneath the band of my ring, grating against both my skin and my conscience. I hold out my hand again, licking it first to make sure the new salt doesn’t go anywhere. I refuse to let it serve as a reminder of promises unraveling by the second.

“Ladies first,” Domingo purrs, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s shirtless and stretched out on the bar, bronze skin taut over sculpted muscle.

His body is one that would make Renaissance sculptors weep—strong shoulders tapering to narrow hips, abs carved by the gods themselves. Zoe drags a line of salt from his navel to his chest, and my mouth waters.

I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to taste his skin.

“You’re up, bride-to-be,” Mia’s voice drips with artificial sweetness. “Unless you’re scared.”

I meet Domingo’s gaze—dark pools of invitation and danger.

“I’m not scared.”

My tongue traces the salt trail from his navel upward, feeling the twitch of muscle beneath my mouth, his sharp intake of breath when I reach his chest. His skin tastes like sweat and sin, like something I shouldn’t crave but do anyway.

The shot burns less than the fire in his eyes when I straighten.

“My turn,” he growls, and suddenly, I’m the one on the bar, my dress riding dangerously high. The salt kisses my heated skin, and I arch involuntarily when his tongue follows.

Time loses meaning under Domingo’s touch. His tongue maps a path that turns my bones to liquid gold, each touch more devastating than the last. The world narrows to the sensation of his lips, the velvet darkness of the club cocooning us in something raw and illicit.

My phone buzzes against my thigh—Matthew, again.

For the first time tonight, I want to answer. I want him to hear how breathless another man has made me. I want to know how this sort of jealousy would manifest from him.

“Dance with me,” Domingo commands, pulling me off the bar and into his arms. His skin is still bare, scorching against my palms as my hands roam his chest.

The DJ switches to something I imagine I’d hear in Barcelona, if I ever convince Matthew to take me. It has heavy beats and Spanish lyrics I don’t understand but feel in my soul. Domingo moves and it’s something forbidden, teaching my body rhythms I never knew it could follow.

“You’re a natural,” he murmurs, spinning me so my back molds to his front. His hands slide down my sides and rest on my hips, possessive in a way Matthew never dares to be. “You were made for this rhythm.” I feel the tips of his fingers dig into the soft skin above my hips, and it feels good .

I laugh, wild and unburdened. “Made for rebellion, you mean.”

“Is that what I am, princesa ? A broken rule?”

I turn in his arms, hair whipping between us. “You’re every warning label I’ve been told to heed.”

His grin is wicked enough to make a devil second-guess their sins. His hands slide lower, grip tightening, voice rough against my ear. “Don’t tell me you’re the type to actually read them.”

I smirk, pressing closer. “I work in science. Throwing caution to the wind is how disasters happen—but sometimes… worth it?”

His smirk is nothing short of sinful. “Then let’s make a mess.”

A slow throb builds deep, my pussy clenching around nothing. Every brush of his skin makes it worse, my thighs squeezing tight like that’ll somehow stop the need flooding me. I’m wet. Fucking drenched, every nerve firing off like I’ve already been touched.

Like I need his mouth. His fingers. His cock.

The ache between my legs becomes unbearable, the kind that demands relief, my body already shifting toward him like instinct. I barely stop myself from grinding against him.

And then, just like that—Domingo moves. His grip tightens, strong and possessive, and it’s second nature—I lock my legs around his waist as he carries me toward a darker corner of the club.

My back presses against the wall before I can think better of it, and my breath comes out shaky, uneven. My phone buzzes again as Domingo’s lips trace fire down my neck.

This time, I answer without thinking.

“Ava?” He sounds angry that I picked up. “Where are you? I’ve been calling?—”

His controlling voice hits me like ice water.

“I need some air,” I gasp, pushing away from Domingo. My hand lingers on his chest for a moment, but I hear my fiancé’s voice through the phone, and I turn away. His eyes flicker with understanding, even as his hands reluctantly release me. I scramble towards the exit, grateful that I know how to walk in stilettos.

Outside, the night air bites at my overheated skin. My fingers shake as I lift the phone to my ear again. I can’t tell if it’s from my nerves or the chill of the gentle breeze.

“Matthew, I?—”

“Ava, where are you ? I’ve been worried sick.” His voice is tight with controlled concern.

Guilt crashes over me. What am I doing?

“I’m with the girls. We’re... celebrating, remember?”

“Just be careful, sweetheart.” He sighs through the receiver, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose as he stares at the floor. “You know how you get when you drink too much.”

Mia appears beside me, perfectly glossed lips curled in a smirk. “Tell Matthew hi for me,” she taunts, loud enough for him to hear. “Tell him how much fun we’re having.”

I give her a look and wave her away, but Matthew’s already heard.

“Is that Mia? At least she has some sense. Put her on?—”

“I have to go.” I end the call, nausea rolling through me that has nothing to do with tequila. I throw my arm toward the post of the streetlight, steadying myself as I try to regain my composure. I will not vomit outside of a club during my bachelorette party,

“Trouble in paradise?” Mia’s voice drips honeyed venom as she approaches my side. “Maybe if you’d stayed at the nice club Matthew suggested instead of following some bartender?—”

“Back off, Mia.”

I look up, and Zoe appears like an avenging angel, Jade right behind her. “Go find someone else’s life to narrate.”

Domingo emerges from the club, black button-down is back on—the top few buttons undone like an afterthought, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looks put together, but not too much—still effortless, still like trouble.

His sultry eyes meet mine. “Everything okay?”

“Just reality checking in,” I manage, forcing a smile.

He studies me, expression unreadable. “Look, my place is a few blocks away. We could grab some coffee, sober up, just... talk.”

Tempting. So tempting. But Jade jumps in before I can respond.

“Or you could come back to our Airbnb,” she suggests with a wicked grin. “We’ve got a hot tub with a city view.”

“Jade!” I chide, but I’m laughing despite myself.

“What? It’s your party.” She winks at me, assessing Domingo again. “Unless you’re scared of a little water.”

Domingo’s eyes find mine, dark with promise. “Your call, princesa .”

Mia scoffs, her nostrils flaring. “This is insane. Your fiancé ?—”

“Isn’t here,” I cut her off, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. “And neither are his rules.”

“Hot tub it is,” Domingo says softly.

As we pile into Ubers, I feel myself straddling two worlds—the safe, predictable future Matthew offers, mapped out in expectations and obligation, and the wild unknown Domingo represents, where nothing is certain except the way he makes me feel—like I’m finally breathing.

The gold band on my finger catches the streetlights, a flash of everything I was supposed to want. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel like a noose. It feels like a choice. One I haven’t made yet.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

***

This place is too much—floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek modern luxury, exactly the kind of place Matthew would book for a business retreat, not a celebration. The thought makes me want to trash it on principle.

The thought makes me want to trash it on principle.

“Ring,” Zoe demands the moment we’re inside, holding out her hand. “You know the rules. No valuables in the hot tub.”

I hesitate, fingers grazing the band that’s been weighing me down all night.

“Zoe…”

“Trust me.” Her eyes are clear despite the alcohol. “I’ll guard it with my life. But you need one night without its shadow.”

The moment the ring leaves my finger, I feel lighter. Dangerous, but lighter .

“Anyone seen my bikini?” Jade calls out, digging through her duffle bag. It doesn’t take long before she gets impatient, instead stripping down to her underwear. “Nevermind, this works too!”

“Some of us have class ,” Mia sniffs, pulling a designer swimsuit from her bag.

“ Some of us have sticks up our asses,” Jade fires back, hands on her hips. “And some of us need to stop pretending we’re here for Ava’s happiness.”

The room goes deadly quiet. I look between the two of them. Oh my god?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mia’s voice could freeze over hell.

Jade’s laugh is sharp, but there’s nothing funny about it. “Oh please. We all know you’ve been wet for Matthew since college. The only reason you’re even in this wedding is to torture yourself.”

“Jade!” I gasp, denial immediately flooding my senses. I want to defend her; Mia’s been my friend for years at this point. There’s no way she’d do that to herself—to me.

Zoe’s hand on my arm stops me. “No, let her finish,” Zoe mutters, eyes locked on Mia. “Let’s get it all out.”

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," Mia hisses, but spots of color stain her cheeks. Her gaze locks on a spot in front of her, making her look even more guilty than she already did. Oh my god.

“Don’t I?” Jade advances on her. “The lingering touches when he’s around? The little comments about how you knew him first? The way you’ve been trying to sabotage Ava all night?”

“Is this true?” My voice is quieter now, pieces clicking into place. All those times Mia insisted on joining Matthew and me for dinner. The way she always brought up their history.

“He chose you,” Mia spits, her mask finally cracking. “He wasn’t supposed to choose you.” She runs her fingers through her hair, eyes locking on mine again. “You were the safe Black girl his parents would accept, the one who’d play by their rules. But he was mine first !”

The slap echoes through the room before I realize Zoe’s moved. Mia staggers back, hand to her cheek. Her eyes look like there are tears forming. I don’t feel anything for her.

“Get out.” Zoe’s voice is deadly calm. “Take your designer swimsuit and your fake friendship and get the fuck out.”

“Ava—” Mia starts.

“You heard her.” This time it’s my voice, stronger than I feel.

As the door slams behind her, I realize Domingo has been watching, silent and observant. His eyes meet mine, and the heat there makes me forget everything else.

“Hot tub?” he suggests, pulling his shirt off.

Miami glitters like scattered diamonds beneath us as we slip into the water, and I take a second to tie my hair up, securing it high enough to keep it from getting wet. Steam curls between us like phantom touches.

Jade and Zoe make a show of taking the far side, giving us space while pretending not to watch.

“You okay?” Domingo asks softly, arm sliding around my bare shoulders.

I lean into him, letting the heat and his touch strip Mia’s words from my skin. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

His fingers trace slow circles beneath the surface of the water, each stroke a question my body aches to answer. “Looks like you’re exactly where you need to be.” He presses a gentle kiss against my forehead, his lips soft against my heavily made-up skin. “And I think,” he murmurs, his accent thicker in the steam, “this suits you. Almost as much as that bikini.”

“Almost?” I arch an eyebrow, shifting closer until our thighs touch underwater. Two can play this game.

“Mmm. Though I bet you’d look even better without?—”

“Keep it PG-13, kids!” Jade calls out, splashing water our way. “At least until I get more tequila in my system.”

“Since when do you need tequila for these things?” Zoe laughs, climbing out. “But I’ll grab the bottle. Someone’s engagement went up in flames tonight—we should toast to it.”

“It didn’t go up in flames,” I protest as Domingo’s fingers move to draw slow, dangerous patterns on my knee. “I just... took a break from it.”

“Princesa,” he breathes against my ear, “breaks don’t taste like what you did to my neck back at the club.”

Heat floods my cheeks. My mind flickers back, and suddenly, I remember— the heat of his skin, the way my teeth scraped against him, the way he growled when I bit down.

“Oh.”

“You absolutely did,” Jade interrupts with a wicked grin, cutting off any attempt at denial. Zoe chuckles, poorly containing her entertainment. “That hickey’s gonna last longer than Mia’s dignity.”

I reach up instinctively, fingers brushing against the spot. It’s tender. I did that.

Domingo just chuckles, the sound reverberating through my bones, making my stomach flip.

“Worth it,” he murmurs, voice softer now, just for me. “You’re worth every mark.”

“Shots!” Zoe announces, returning with the bottle and no glasses. “Let’s play Never Have I Ever!”

“What are we, college freshmen?” I’m laughing, letting the night’s magic settle over me.

“Never have I ever,” Jade starts, eyes glinting, “wanted to climb a sexy bartender like a tree.”

“That’s targeting!” I splash her, but drink anyway. Domingo’s hand slides higher under the water, each inch stealing the breath from my lungs.

“Never have I ever,” he joins in, voice like silk against my skin, “wanted to taste every inch of a bride-to-be.”

Our eyes lock as he drinks. The tension crackles between us, electric enough to power the whole city below.

“Never have I ever,” I whisper, turning to face him fully, “wanted someone to ruin me this badly.”

Bottle forgotten, Domingo’s hands cup my face. The world narrows to his eyes, his lips, the breath between us?—

A phone shatters the moment. It’s not mine this time; it’s Zoe’s.

“Shit,” she hisses, checking the screen. “The club called. Mia’s there making a scene, threatening to call Matthew.”

Reality slams into me like a freight train. Domingo’s hands fall away, but his eyes promise this isn’t over.

“You should go,” I tell Zoe and Jade. “Damage control. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Zoe hesitates. “Because leaving you alone with Tall, Dark and Dangerous here…”

“Means I’ll behave,” Domingo cuts in smoothly. “Scout’s honor.”

I shoot him a look. “Why do I feel like you were never a scout,” I guess, making him grin. Mischief dances in his eyes.

“No,” he admits, “but I am a gentleman. Most nights.”

“And tonight?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

His smile turns wicked. “Tonight I’m whatever you need me to be, princesa .”

Jade whistles low. “And on that note, we’re out.” She tugs on her jeans, cursing at the friction her newly-dried legs create. Once they’re on, she throws a t-shirt over her head. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Once she’s also dressed, only throwing a skirt on over her bathing suit, Zoe looks over her shoulder at us one more time. “That leaves a lot of room for bad decisions,” she mutters, but she’s smiling as they leave.

In their wake, the city lights flicker like whispered secrets, and in Domingo’s eyes, I see the kind of promises I’ve only ever been too afraid to make.