I’m trying to piece together something to strike back with, but nothing is coming to me, so in an act of complete stupidity, I turn and stomp over to the bar. I know he’s watching me, and I know Kate is, too, but it doesn’t stop me from ordering and downing a fresh glass of wine before returning to the floor.
“What are you trying to prove?” Kate yells at me. “Because if it’s that you’re a fucking twat, then you’re succeeding.” Her words would probably hit a nerve if the alcohol wasn’t getting in the way. I don’t care.
I’m distracted from Kate’s wrath by Tom’s squeal, his eyes lighting up when the DJ launches Rob D “Clubbed to Death.” He pounces on me. “Get me a whistle, shove me in some hot pants, and put me on that podium! Ibiza!”
I shut my mind down, canceling out all thoughts of my infuriating man, and let the music take me, my body falling into sync with the track, my arms rising above my head and my eyes closing. I’m in a world of my own. My only awareness is of the loud music and me at the center of it.
I’m lost.
Numb.
Silently devastated.
But he’s near.
I can sense him. I can smell his fresh-water scent closing in, and then there’s his touch. My arms slowly fall as I feel his palm slide across my stomach, his groin pressing into my lower back, his hot breath in my ear. I’m surrounded by him, and even though I should be pushing him away, I can’t. My blank mind remains blank, and I start moving with him as he kisses my neck, his hardness pushing into my back. I’m powerless to stop my head from falling to the side, giving him better access. My throat’s taut, making me hypersensitive to his firm tongue, which is trailing straight up my vein until he’s at my ear, breathing heavy, hot, controlled breaths. The music seems to get louder, his handling of me more severe, and before I can open my eyes, I’m being dragged from the dance floor. I could try to stop him, but I don’t. I follow his lead until I’m being pulled through the corridor toward the toilets, everything around me seeming slow and slurred as I focus only on his broad back in front of me. As we approach the end of the passageway, I glance back and see Jay watching us, and then I look to Jesse and see him give the doorman a nod before opening the door to a disabled toilet and pushing me inside. The door is swiftly shut, the lock flipped, and within a second, I’m pushed up against the wall by his body. The music is louder, and I look up, seeing integrated speakers in the ceiling, but my face is soon yanked back down. Our eyes meet. His greens are dark, completely smoked out, and his lips are slightly parted. I’m panting as he takes my wrists and pulls them up, pinning them on either side of my head before he leans in and takes my bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, then pulls away, dragging it between his grip. I’ve lost all control of my bodily reactions. My belly is turning, shifting the thump that’s hammering away inside of me straight down to my core. I’m desperate for him, but the placing of my hands and his hard body compressed to mine is preventing me from moving anything but my head, so I reach forward with my lips. He ducks my aim. This is going to be on his terms. His lips hover over mine, only millimeters from my reach, his hot, minty breath heating my face, but then he pulls away. He’s teasing me.
My husky voice breaks. “Kiss me.” I’m begging. I’m aware of it, but I don’t care. I want and need him all over me.
His face is completely impassive as he flexes his grip on my wrists and increases the pressure of his body against mine. He slowly moves his face forward, his green orbs penetrating me completely, and tickles my lips with his. I moan and try to capture them, but he pulls away again, still poker-faced, still completely controlled. Not me, though. I’m about to go crazy with desperation.
“Kiss me,” I demand harshly.
He ignores me and shifts one of my arms across to meet the other, then takes both of my wrists in one grasp. With his other hand, he reaches down and places his fingertip on my knee, and slowly, lightly, starts a painfully tormenting trail up my thigh, over my hip, across my ribs, my breast and up, up, up, until he has my neck completely encased by his palm, his thumb resting on the hollow of my throat, his fingers splayed at my nape. My pulse has accelerated, my heart is bucking wildly in my chest, and my knees could give at any moment. And all of the time, he is burning holes through me with his addictive eyes. I could scream with frustration, which is no doubt his plan. I lean forward again, but he dodges my lips stealthily and homes straight in on my chest, nudging my dress down with his chin and latching onto my breast. He’s freshening up his mark.