Page 16 of Emmett

“I love you,” Ro tells me quietly as Mariah leaves us, “but this is a bad idea.”

Yeah, she’s probably right.

SIX

Emmett

Arcane is packed by the time we pull up, and I check my watch – it’s only a little after ten, and there’s already a line out the door. There are six of us here tonight, all of us somehow connected through work, aside from Logan and I. Logan probably wouldn’t count himself as a colleague to the girls, because he’s ‘just’ our contractor and security guy, but he’s been my friend for years and he literally built the bones of several Fowler Enterprise businesses with his bare hands, so he gets at the very least an honorary title.

Mariah wraps her hands around my bicep as we move forward in the line, inching closer to the door, leaning her head on my shoulder.

She looks good tonight; she always looks good, but tonight, especially so. Her black hair is piled on top of her head in a messy knot and a tight, light blue dress hugs her body with diamond-shaped cutouts carved through the middle that show off glimpses of her summer-sun-kissed skin underneath as well as the gem dangling from her pierced belly button. She’s a nice girl. We have fun together and I could probably take her home tonight, if I wanted to.

After another fifteen minutes of slowly inching forward, we finally pass security and make our way into the packed club. As soon as we walk through the doors, loud bass poundsthrough my ears and a rainbow of neon lights flash in rapid succession to the beat, painting the entire space in color.

I approach the bar and flag someone down to order our first round of drinks, and I find myself closing my eyes, using my index finger to pick at the skin on the side of my thumb while I wait. Rowan was right; I shouldn’t be here, I’m not ready for this. To go from nearly three weeks of solitude to having someone’s shoulders squishing into me from all directions because it’s so heavily packed in this place is nothing short of overwhelming.

As the drinks make their way across the bar top, I stuff down my anxiety and slap on my best megawatt smile before walking the glasses back to everyone and handing them out.

The girls have already started dancing, forming a circle among themselves as they reach for each others’ hands and jump around to the rhythm. Logan stands off to the side, sipping on his beer while he scans the crowd – both strangers and our friends – for someone he’d like to make a move on.

Rowan leans against a table next to him, activelynotparticipating in the lurking, sipping at her water and cheering on her friends. Every now and again, she reaches over to fiddle with her wedding band, and I have to stifle a laugh knowing that she would rather be anywhere but a busy nightclub. She would probably be having a thousand times more fun if she were curled up on the couch with my dad watching a corny movie or something.

When I finally get a good buzz going, I shimmy my way into the dance circle, pushing up the sleeves of my henley as I squeeze in between Mariah and...I swear to god, I know her name.

I brush a hand through my hair and pull Mariah closer until her ass is right up against me. She picks up on the cueand presses into my lap, grinding to the beat of the music as my arm snakes around her waist, her hand covering mine.

My mouth finds its way to the crook of her neck and I nibble and suck at her skin as we move together, and I feel her buckle, just a little bit. When she turns her head to take my mouth with her own, I slip my tongue past her lips and feel her let out a whimper into my mouth.

We dance – and make out – for a handful of songs before I step away from the group and head for the bathroom. The hall leading to it is like a soundproofed chamber, blocking out almost all of the music along with the flashing lights, and it’s completely disorienting.

Tapping my fingers on the wall as I walk, I make my way toward the empty mens’ room and step inside, greeted with the sound of grunting. A man’s voice comes through one of the stalls.

“That’s right,” he growls to someone else in the stall with him. “And you’ll take every fucking drop of it.”

My body goes rigid, my eyes flying open as I press myself against the wall – as if they’re going to see me standing here. As if I’ve somehow interrupted a private, intimate moment. As if they’re not doing this in a very public, very busy space.

“Christ,” I breathe to myself.

The grunting from the stall becomes desperate and full of need as whoever is in there reaches the edge, and liquid heat runs down my spine as the man’s breathing grows heavier.

“Give me your tongue,” the man in the stall orders, his voice strained, and I don’t have to wonder why that is.

I should turn around and get out of here. I really don’t even need to pee that badly, it can wait. This is intrusive andreallyuncomfortable; I don’t eavesdrop on other peoplehaving sex. That’s not my thing. I should leave – but my feet force me a couple of small, curious steps closer to the stall as the man giving the orders moans through his release. My mouth goes dry, my lips parting as my breath turns ragged.

“Swallow it,” the man in the stall orders his partner.

Silence hangs in the air before the stall door opens. It throws me out of the moment and I jump back, trying to figure out how the hell I can make it look like I wasn’t just listening to some guy getting his dick sucked.

I barely have time to turn toward the wall and pretend to casually inspect the paint job when I see Nash Montgomery step out of the stall, tugging up the zipper of his white slacks, looking satisfied.

Another man follows behind him and heads straight for the sink, where he turns on the faucet and ducks his head down to fill his mouth with water.

A taunting smirk spreads across Nash’s face as he steps closer to me, needing only a few long strides before he practically has me trapped between himself and the wall behind me. He plants a hand against the wall next to my shoulder as he locks his hazel eyes onto mine.

“You’re not supposed to be here, pretty boy,” he growls. “You should have been paying attention in that little meeting that we had. What did I tell you about being so easily distracted?”

I lock my eyes onto his, staring just for a second before my gaze drops to his angled jawline; the heavy stubble covering it, neatly lined and well styled, just like the rest of him. My stomach flips at the sudden thought of what that stubble might feel like against my skin and I swallow hard.