Page 4

HARLOW

“Have you just stolen my Brit?” Brooke asks after pulling me into the middle of the packed dance floor. Along with a group of other Vipers employees, we left the VIP section in favor of bumping and grinding with the rest of the club.

“We were just talking,” I say innocently, trying to forget the tingles that erupted within me every time he looked at me, or the way my temperature spiked at his touch.

“Oh yeah, just talking,” she mocks. “You didn’t see the way he watched your ass as we walked away from him. I told you that dress was pure gold.”

“I’m not interested, B. You know I don’t need a man.”

“Who said anything about needing one? No one needs a man; we’re all perfectly capable without one. But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t do with one to help us let our hair down every so often … before he pulls on it as we scream his name.”

“I don’t want that, either,” I argue, hoping it’s dark enough down here that she doesn’t see the color staining my cheeks as the image she’s just conjured up takes over my thoughts. His strong, tattooed arms, his fingers threaded in my hair as I climb toward…

Nope, don’t go there.

“You’re only lying to yourself, and you know it. Give yourself a night off. Let go of the tension. Trust me; you’ll thank me for it in the morning,” she sings.

“What about you?” I ask, hoping to get the heat off me.

“What about me? I wanted him, yeah. Especially now I know just how hot he is. But I don’t think he’s all that interested in me.”

“I’m sure he is. You bulldozed your way into our conversation. He was just a little shocked, is all.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Her eyes focus on something over my shoulder, but, assuming it’s just a guy who’s caught her attention, I block her out in favor of losing myself to the music.

Brooke is right about one thing: I do need to let my hair down.

As the beat of the music flows through me, I immediately feel lighter. I allow the stress of work and the pressure I put on myself to do a good job to fall away before attempting to forget about everything else, if only for a few minutes.

With the alcohol flowing through my veins, I forget that I’m surrounded by hundreds of people who are potentially watching me and lose myself in the movements of my body.

My eyes close and my head falls back as I raise my hands above my head and move my hips. It’s the freest I’ve felt in a long time.

I still the second hands land on my hips. I drop my arms immediately, ready to push away whoever it is who thinks they’ve got the right to touch me, when a familiar voice rumbles in my ear.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” His familiar deep voice drags me from my own little world, and I immediately relax back, allowing the tingles his touch creates to flow around my body. “Dance with me?”

I don’t bother replying. Instead, I just move with him when he presses the length of his body against my back. His touch burns as he pins me against him.

“I was watching you.” A groan rumbles up my throat. “The way you move. It’s intoxicating.” His fingers clench against my skin, and I welcome the slight bite of pain as my body takes on a life of its own. “I don’t dance, but I couldn’t bear to watch someone else take my place.”

Oh God.

My head spins, and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or just the effect he has on me.

Our hips move in time with the music, and I shut off everything but the beat and the heat of him surrounding me. With my eyes closed, I rest my head back against his chest and just … feel .

I have no idea how much time or how many songs pass, but eventually just dancing must get too much for him. I’ve been able to feel his length against my ass almost since we first connected, and I can’t deny that it hasn’t sent a little thrill or two through me.

Releasing one of my hips, he lifts his fingers so he can sweep my hair from my neck before placing his lips to the sensitive skin below my ear. My body shudders with the contact, and his lips curl into a smile.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby.” I melt in his arms and give in to temptation.

Spinning so we’re facing once again, I look up into his eyes. The blue is significantly darker compared to when I first looked into them earlier this evening.

His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and I can’t help but watch its journey. His eyes bounce between mine before he lowers his head.

Time seems to stop as I wait for us to connect, but the second his lips brush mine it’s like someone hits fast forward on my life.

He kisses me softly, just an innocent brush of lips, before his hands slip up to my waist and his tongue teases my lips. I press myself into his body, and my lips part, eager to accept what he has to offer.

The second our tongues collide, something explodes between us.

My fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, and I cling onto him for fear that my knees are going to buckle as our tongues explore and our teeth clash.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed, but fuck, I don’t remember it ever being like this.

One song blurs into the next, but eventually we part in favor of dragging some air into our lungs. Although, Corey doesn’t go all that far as he runs kisses along my jaw and down my neck.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs into my ear when he gets there, making me shiver with delight.

“I … uh …” I stutter, now feeling a little awkward, seeing as we’re standing in the middle of a massive crowd, having just made out like teenagers in front of them all.

In front of my colleagues and an entire hockey team.

Both our chests heave, and when I look into his eyes, I find them almost black with desire.

Lust hits me right in the core, knowing that I can cause that kind of reaction in a man like him.

It’s usually Brooke who does this kind of thing.

I wonder for a moment what’s come over me.

It’s been years since I’ve pushed everything aside in favor of the type of pleasure only a man can offer.

I tell myself that it’s either the tequila or the dress—possibly a mix of both—giving me a bit of the confidence I used to have in my younger years.

Blowing out a breath, knowing that I need to put some space between us before this goes too far, I stand back.

I don’t look up at him again for fear of what I might find on his face.

“I … uh … need to use the bathroom.” I step around him and squeeze between the bodies dancing beside us. I’m almost at the edge of the crowd when his arm slips around my waist.

“You don’t need to run. Let me walk you.”

I want to tell him no, that he should go back to the party and leave me to do my thing, but as I open my lips to say the words, they die on my tongue. Having him beside me feels too good to ignore, so instead, I allow him to walk me to the bathroom.

“Thanks,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, which is crazy seeing as I was basically dry humping him out on the dance floor not all that long ago. “You should go back up to the party. Milo might be looking for you.”

“Why do I get the impression you’re trying to get rid of me?”

My eyes go wide—I don’t want him to think that. “No, not at all. I just didn’t think you’d want to hang around the bathrooms like a loser.”

“You think I’m a loser?” One side of his lips curls into a smile.

My cheeks heat and my breath catches. “No, that’s not what?—”

“I was joking.” He lifts his hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “Don’t look so worried.”

I nod, unable to say anything with the way he’s looking into my eyes.

Thankfully, someone jostling him from behind breaks our connection.

“I’m just going to …” I trail off, gesturing behind me.

“I’ll be upstairs.” He winks before turning and leaving me with the space I need to breathe.

After standing in line for what feels like hours, I eventually manage to get to a stall to do my thing.

I’m standing at the sink, reapplying my lip gloss, when a familiar flash of blonde appears over my shoulder.

“Sooo … is he as good a kisser as I predicted?”

“I don’t know what you’re?—”

“Oh, no, no, no. I watched you two going at it on the dance floor, so don’t even think about lying to me. You don’t get to steal my man and then kiss and not tell.”

“I didn’t steal?—”

She waves her hand in front of me, brushing aside my argument. “Was he good?”

I sigh, wondering how to describe him.

“Forget it. That sigh and the goofy eyes say it all.”

“It says nothing, B. He was a good kisser. It was fun. But that’s all this is.”

“Why?”

“Because in case you’d forgotten, I have no interest in dipping my toe into the dating world. I’ve got too much other stuff to worry about. I don’t need the whole ‘does he like me, doesn’t he? Is he going to call?’ thing adding to my stress.”

“But he could be the perfect stress relief.”

“Men always come with drama.”

“Only if you allow them to. Think about it … one hot night. Let him banish the tension that’s been pulling your muscles tight and then allow him to walk out the door, knowing you both got what you needed. Bam. He’s happy. You’re happy. You can continue with your life. End of.”

I sigh once more, but this time it’s not with memories of how his kiss felt.

It’s heavy with the regret of my past. I know what Brooke is saying is right, but I’ve been there and done that.

I know that one night of passion, of pushing my problems aside, isn’t going to help in the long run. Hell knows I’ve tried.

I know she’s just trying to encourage me to enjoy myself, but she has no idea what it’s like for me.

She might have been there with me through most of it, but still, it’s not the same.

I’m always terrified of falling back into old habits and returning to a side of me that I never want to visit again.

“Thanks, B. But I know what I’m doing.”