The dance floor is a humid mass of bodies and I’m more than a little drunk.
Once I decided I didn’t want to take things slow, something snapped inside me and pushed me to wake the hell up. I saw my life from a new perspective, and I saw that I was working as my own worst enemy. I refuse to do that to myself any longer.
On that note, I ordered vodka for my first drink at the club even though I was still tipsy from the drinks we had before blackjack. I pounded the first glass and started on my second, and now my inhibitions are shot. All I can think about as Brian’s hips grind with mine is what it would be like to share a bed with him tonight.
When the familiar sounds of Mark Ashton’s smooth voice pump through the speakers as Vail’s current chart-topper plays, I’m tipsy enough that the song doesn’t make me cry.
Just like when I wore the gold dress to my first dinner with Brian as a way to replace old memories in it, I think I need to make some new memories to this song.
“I love this song,” I say, and then I throw my head back and start shouting out the words I know so well. Brian leans forward to nuzzle my neck as I do, the stubble along his jaw burning a trail on my neck and igniting a blistering passion in my chest.
I’m thankful for the alcohol. It’s helping me make decisions that my sober mind wouldn’t agree with, but this is what I need. It’s like I’m finally thinking clearly, finally stepping out of my good girl persona and into the hidden minx that’s always been dormant inside me.
I lower my head and he’s centimeters away. I do what feels natural. I lean forward and press my lips to his.
I’m tentative at first despite the alcohol. His lips are firm and soft, a contradiction that feels absolutely right, but I’m leading here. I’m the one who kissed him.
I may be tentative, but he’s not. He’s hot and assured, pushing his hips harder against me to show me that he wants this…wants me. His arms tighten around me as our tentative kiss escalates.
His mouth opens to mine, and that’s when the music stops—or it keeps going, I don’t know, because all I’m aware of are my primal instincts. I meet his hips as they push to mine, our bodies pressed together as passion takes over. My hands trail up to feel his hair. It’s soft and thick, and I luxuriate in rolling a few strands around my fingertips. His hands grip my back, fingertips digging into the exposed flesh, as if it’s the only way he can prevent himself from getting me naked in the middle of a crowded dance floor.
He breaks our kiss first. He’s a bit breathless and I’m a panting mess.
He leans into me, pulling me into a hug and nuzzling my neck. He turns so his lips are near my ear. “I’ve wanted to do that since that morning you ran into me when you got off the elevator.”
I think to myself that I’ve wanted that, too, but I was scared, too caught up in my own head, too stupid to see what was right in front of me. He’s a catch, and I’ve been pushing him away because I can’t stop thinking about a pipe dream.
But I won’t allow myself to continue to be stupid.
“So much for taking things slow,” I mutter.
He chuckles then grabs my hand. “Come with me,” he says. “I want to show you something.”
He leads me through the mass of sweaty bodies and into another room of the club. A security guard waves us in almost as if he knows Brian. This room is much less crowded than the dance floor, and it’s quiet—exclusive. It feels more private even though we’re definitely not alone.
The room reminds me of a library. I follow Brian toward a wall of bookcases filled with books. We pass a long, walnut bar, wooden pool tables with burgundy felt, and some soft, sexy leather club chairs surrounding smaller coffee tables. It’s warm and cozy in here, like I could curl up in one of the cushy leather chairs for hours with a book. You’d never guess it was part of a nightclub—in fact, I can’t even hear the music next door unless someone opens the door.
Brian leads me over to the wall with the books. “What’s your favorite book?” he asks.
I shrug. “How do you pick just one?”
He chuckles. “I like anything by Steinbeck. My favorite is probably East of Eden.”
“Why?”
“I learned a lot from it. Steinbeck’s work has so many layers.”
“I find that book a little dark.”
“Why?”
“He said love makes people suspicious.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” He lifts a shoulder. “He also said something about evil, ugly things growing inside us all.”
“And here I was about to tell you my favorite book is an erotic romance.”
He chuckles. “You like the ones with the dominants and submissives?”
I shrug nonchalantly and pretend I don’t feel the heat creeping into my cheeks. “Sure. I’ll read anything.”
“You feel the same way about sex?” he asks, his voice low and gritty.
Thank God I’m drunk for this conversation, because I don’t think I could sober talk about sex so easily with someone I hardly know. “Are you asking if I want to be dominated?” I’m not exactly sure how to answer. I’m far from submissive, but I also don’t mind when a man wants to take charge. “Not as a lifestyle.”
“But on occasion is okay?” he asks. His voice is husky and warm.
I laugh nervously. “Why, are you a dominant or something?”
He laughs back, but there’s no trace of nerves there. “No, I’m not, but I do enjoy calling the shots.”
I raise an eyebrow, grateful for the low lights in this room to cover my burning cheeks. “I like it that way on occasion, too.”
“Sounds like we’re a match.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“We will?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He laughs. “I like you, Reese.”
“That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned that.”
“If I say it enough times, maybe you’ll start to like me back.”
“Yeah. Or maybe I’ve already started.”
He shoots me a smile that’s hot enough to melt my panties right off, and it’s confirmed. I’m smitten.
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. We don’t make out like we did on the dance floor just a few minutes ago, but something is definitely different between us. It’s the start of something new—butterflies, excitement, nerves, tingles. It’s the feeling you hope lasts forever even though you know it’ll fade with time.
I follow Brian over to the bar as hope blooms in my chest. He gets us each a fresh drink. We find an open club chair, but just one. It’s by itself off to the side of the room, sort of in a quiet back corner. He sits and pats his lap, and I carefully position myself on his knee. I’m in a short, tight dress, after all, and we barely know each other. He chuckles before he pulls me closer, and I’m careful to keep my legs pressed together so I don’t flash everyone in the library room.
I remind myself that this is Reese’s Big Summer of Sin. I throw caution to the wind as I purposely grind my ass across the erection that’s digging into it, and I take a sip of my drink, trying my hardest to act like this is all good and normal, like we’ve known each other for ages.
I lean into him, and I feel the hard planes of muscle hidden beneath his shirt as they bow and flex beneath my arm. He leans over me and nuzzles my neck, and then his fingertips start a slow ascent up my thigh until he reaches the hem of my dress. He keeps going, and my eyelids flutter closed at his touch. I lean more heavily into him and let out a low moan as my legs automatically fall apart and the ache that’s been clawing at me all night starts to blister with an unbearable fire.
I turn my head to catch his lips against mine, desire raging through me as the ache becomes agonizing. He kisses me back with firm assurance, deepening our connection with his tongue as one of his fingers tugs on the side of my panties, like he’s going to finger me right here in the middle of the club in a chair where anyone can see us.
It’s terrible of me, especially considering I feel like I’m too old to pull off this dress and I’m terrified I might run into a student’s parent…but I want this. I want him to shove his long finger right inside of me, to thrust in and out, to drive me to an orgasm. It won’t take long. He’s been pushing me toward it all night.
It was only a matter of time, and the club around us fades away as all my sensations direct their focus onto his mouth, his hand, his fingers.
“There you two are!”
The interrupting voice is familiar, cutting into a moment meant for privacy behind closed doors, not meant for the middle of a nightclub.
Our kiss breaks, and my eyes flutter open. Brian’s face looms large in front of me, inches from my own, and his eyes are as disappointed and frustrated as I feel. He presses another soft kiss to my lips and casually lowers his hand before turning toward the offending voice.
“I want to dance with you,” Tess says, shaking my shoulder. “Let’s go find Jill.”
“I’m pretty comfortable right here,” I say, but it’s useless. She pulls me up off Brian’s lap and tugs me back toward the main room.
I turn around and mouth sorry to Brian.
“What’s going on with you two?” Tess demands as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Nothing now since you interrupted us.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “The straight and narrow Reese Brady was going to get nasty in the middle of a club? I don’t buy it.”
She doesn’t need to buy it as far as I’m concerned, but a part of me is glad she interrupted us. As much as I wanted Brian to take me right in that chair, it wouldn’t have been right.
Not when I can’t stop thinking about another man, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.