Music boomed from the sound system as Jay mixed another rum and diet coke for Sahara. The alcohol was definitely doing its job. He didn’t even mind watching Em and Mason laugh over something he’d said. She was beautiful when she laughed. Head thrown back, dark hair cascading over her shoulder, smile lighting up her face. She didn’t do it nearly enough.
“Jay, sweetie, can you help me with something?” Sahara tripped over her heels into the bar opposite him, giggling all the way.
He’d lost track of how many he’d made for her, too. From the looks of things, it was a lot, and she could definitely use some help. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Come here. Come here.” She beckoned him closer, hushed like it was some kind of secret mission.
If it hadn’t been for the beer goggles, he might have noticed the gleam in her eye, or the fact that she was leading him down the hall toward the bathrooms where she couldn’t possibly need his help with anything besides possibly wiping her ass. The thought made him laugh. Yeah, he’d definitely had a few too many. His tolerance had been legendary back in high school, but a few years without drinking and it was shot all to shit.
“What are we doing?”
“I need you.” Sahara turned around, prowling back in his direction when Jay came to a standstill.
“What?”
“I need you, Jay. I need you. Now.”
Sahara stepped in closer as Jay shook his head trying to clear it. What the hell was happening here? He took a step back and she matched him pace for pace until his back came up against the wall. Before he could blink, she’d closed the space between them entirely, rubbing her body against his.
Her soft, warm curves pressed into his chest. “Sahara . . .”
Nails raked through his hair sending sharp tingles down his spine as she ground her hips against his. Shit, that felt good. Jay pressed his hands firmly to the wall behind him, fighting the growing urge to grab onto her and not let go. His mind railed against what was happening even as his body responded . . . “Wait. Stop.”
She didn’t stop. Her hand traveled south and a deep groan bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. Fuck. The whole building seem to whirl in a dizzying spiral as though it had been picked up and tossed around by an unexpected tornado. Sahara smiled and it made Jay sick. Wrong. This was all wrong. This wasn’t what he wanted. Besides the fact that it seemed to be exactly what his body was craving, his heart and soul belonged to someone else.
Her hand gripped him hard through his suddenly too tight jeans at the same moment her tongue snaked into his mouth.
“Shit.” Jay hissed, his head flying back to collide with the wall behind him at the very moment a quiet gasp filled the hallway.
Chapter Twelve
Em
Em stood at the end of the hall desperately trying to recall when and where she’d fallen asleep because surely this must be a nightmare. Jay was pressed up against the wall with Sahara practically melded to his body. And he was kissing her.
“Em!” Jay shoved Sahara away. “It’s not what it looked like.”
“Oh, really? That’s good because it looked like you were kissing that tramp. Is that not right? Please, tell me how that wasn’t exactly what it looked like.” She shocked herself with the vehemence she possessed, but she’d never felt so hurt in her entire life as she did in that moment and she lashed out like an injured animal.
“Em . . . I didn’t . . . I’d never . . .” Em stood there, waiting patiently as he stumbled through the English language. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Kiss her?”
Jay nodded miserably as Em started the tiny rocking motion he knew she used to sooth herself when she was really upset. Of all the things that had happened recently . . . “I’m not sure how you could call that an accident.”
Tears clogged her throat and she knew there couldn’t be any more said without causing an even bigger scene. As the case was, they’d already managed to bring the party to a screeching halt.
The music continued to play, but conversations had cut short. Everyone stood around awkwardly aware of the sudden drama unfolding. A few gawked openly like they were watching some kind of reality TV, while others made a valiant effort not to stare. Mason sat on a barstool, drink clenched in his hand, making no such effort.
His eyes flicked between her and Jay as she made her way across the restaurant toward Ashlyn who already stood near the door with her car keys in hand. They held concern and a fair amount of anger, but the one thing she didn’t see—the thing that surprised her—was not an ounce of satisfaction. Mason took no enjoyment from what had just happened.