Later that night, Callie and I dress up. I’ve got on a skimpy red dress that ends midthigh and scoops down low in the back, exposing most of my shoulder blades. My high heels are delicate, strappy Louboutins that Callie scored for me from a high-end consignment store in L.A. My hair is loose and I’ve curled the ends, although I don’t know how long it will last in the humid ocean air. Callie’s got on a short, tight black skirt and a silver strapless top with matching silver heels. Her hair is half up and teased and she has on heavy black eyeliner. She looks like the perfect rock-’n’-roll party girl, which I’m sure is what she’s going for.
We meet the other girls in the lobby. Jessie looks sexy as hell in a short, sparkly dress that scoops low in the front and gives her major cleavage. Ashleigh is wearing a tight, strapless blue dress and I notice she’s lost a lot of weight. She looks painfully thin now. Ashleigh and Jessie have added a bachelorette sash to Leah’s white ruffled dress and a giant fake tiara perched in her wheat blond hair.
We go to a sushi place for dinner and get tipsy on sake. From there the rest of the night is a blur. We hit up a casino, Callie wins five hundred dollars at blackjack and I win two-fifty on penny slots. Jessie has written a list of weird things Leah has to do, like sing a song to a stranger, get a guy to give her his socks, and other random stuff. It’s hysterical and Leah charms the pants off everyone. We grab drinks or shots at every casino or bar we hit up. By midnight we end up at a huge dance club a few blocks from our hotel. I don’t even know the name but it doesn’t matter. The music is loud and good and, according to Callie, there are a lot of hot men.
She starts talking to one—a tall, handsome brunette—at the bar. The rest of us slip into a booth and order a round of drinks—and that’s when the night starts to go south for me. Ashleigh, Leah and Jessie start talking about Devin, Cole and Jordan—and they don’t stop. It’s all “he’s so adorable when he does this” and “does Devin do this, because Jordan totally does” and “did you know when they were little…” Blah blah blah.
I have nothing to add to the conversation, which makes me painfully aware that I wish I did have something to add. Before I start to get too melancholy I decide to excuse myself. Two minutes later, I’m in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by strangers and I’m dancing like my life depends on it. It’s such a release—from my life and all the drama. I need this. Out here there’s nothing but music and movement and my brain just enjoys the swing of my hips, the sway of my arms, the bounce of my hair—and the looks from the boys. Dancing makes me feel like I’m pretty, I’m desirable and someone will love me—someday.
I feel someone’s body brush mine. It’s been happening all night—every time we danced at a club or bar. That’s what drunk boys in nightclubs do—rub up against pretty, drunk girls. But this time, for some reason, the feel of this stranger is exciting.
I don’t turn around as I feel him brush me again, this time pausing—keeping his frame against mine, moving his hips with mine. The back of my head brushes a broad, hard, flat surface—his chest. That means he’s tall. I like tall. I love tall, actually. And then there’s a hand on my hip. It’s light but still possessive—and I feel a thigh behind mine, between my legs. That football field of chest is up against my back again, like I’m leaning on a wall. I put more sway into my hips, making sure to brush him completely in the process. I wonder what he looks like. Please be beautiful, I think to myself. I need someone beautiful to think I’m beautiful. Someone who can wipe away my incessant need for Luc.
I feel something brush my hair—it’s his other hand, and it sweeps my long hair off my neck and around my shoulder. Then I feel breath tickle the back of my ear. He’s matching my dance moves now. His hips are pushing forward as often and as hard as mine are pushing back. Suddenly, I need to know who this is. I start to turn.
My eyes land on the wide expanse of blue shirt in front of me and float up.
Caramel brown eyes stare down at me in a face I have seen so many times before but with a look I don’t recognize.
Luc looks… predatory. Hungry. Like he’s a starving lion and I’m the gazelle that’s about to become his meal. I’ve never seen him look like this—it’s been close but he’s always held something back—but tonight he’s not and it makes my panties damp.
I don’t say his name or acknowledge we even know each other—maybe it’s because I honestly have never met this Luc Richard before. I just stare at him, my body still moving to the music, somehow unaffected by the shock and turmoil inside my heart.
He cups my elbows gently, guiding my arms up until they’re resting over his shoulders. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against him. He’s got one leg in between mine and his knees are ever so slightly bent. I keep moving my hips, grinding against him. It’s impossible to stop—and I don’t even want to try.
He splays his big hands flat against my bare lower back. I cross my wrists behind his head and my fingers can’t help but scrape through his hair. His eyes are barely open now. I lower mine to watch our pelvises push and pull and roll against each other.
I want to ask him what the hell he’s doing, but it’s a stupid question. I know what he’s doing—he’s dry-humping me within an inch of my life and pretending it’s dancing. I just can’t believe he’s doing it to me.
His hands leave my lower back, heading in opposite directions. His right moves up to my neck, his fingers traveling through my hair at the base of my neck. His left hand moves downward, and he very obviously, very aggressively, cups my ass.
Luc Richard is cupping my ass.
Sweet mother of God.
Now I can’t look up. I don’t want to. Is he joking around? Is he doing this just to make sure no one else does—as one of his typical overprotective tactics?
My head turns sideways, my cheek grazing his shirt. My hands slide from his neck and rest on his wide, solid shoulders, gripping the muscles there—God, he has so many muscles. His hand on my ass pulls me into him and I grind harder. God help me, I want this contact so much. I’ve wanted it forever.
Then his neck bends forward and his head dips and I feel his lips brush against my cheek and head toward my ear. He’s going to speak. I feel his lips part. He’s going to say something—it’s going to be light and jovial and stupid and it’s going to ruin everything. This whole charade will come crashing down and I don’t want it to.
So before a word leaves his mouth, I spin. The movement is fast and unexpected and he stumbles a little as our bodies bump in an effort to reposition themselves. And then I try to walk away. I don’t want an explanation or an excuse for what we just did. I don’t want to know why he did it because his reasons won’t be the same as mine. He’ll say it was a mistake. He’ll say he was joking around. I just need to leave before he can break my heart and my ego—again.
But I only get three small steps before one of his thick arms wraps itself around my rib cage, just below my breasts, and he’s like a brick wall smashed up against my back again. This time his lips press up against my hair and he gets his chance to speak.
“I’m not done with you,” he growls, his normally slight French accent more prominent.
I stop. I’m stunned into immobility for just a second, and then I start to move against him again. If he wants dancing, I’ll give him dancing. I push my ass out and grind right into his crotch. My hands rise above my head and my eyes close as I absorb the feel of Luc—the love of my pathetic life—against me in a way I have always wanted but never had. He pushes into me, one hand on my hip, the other still flat against my rib cage. His head is low, pressed into the side of my neck; his stubble would be tickling me if my skin wasn’t on fire with desire. I drop my hands and reach behind me, running them along the massive solid expanse of his thighs. I arch my back slightly and push my ass into his pelvis again.
And then his head moves, ever so slightly, and I feel something else on my skin. Just above my collarbone—his lips. The contact isn’t accidental. His lips aren’t grazing or brushing; they’re pressed firmly to my skin. They part ever so slightly and then he pulls my tender flesh up into his mouth, sucking softly for a long second before his head moves slowly away. His lips brush my ear lightly and I swear to God his tongue teases my earlobe. I start turning around.
I don’t know if he’s turning me or my legs are acting on their own, but suddenly we’re face-to-face and his head is still bent and his lips are half an inch from mine. I nervously slide my tongue across my lower lip, and his mouth parts slightly. At first the contact is so light I’m not sure it happened. Just a brush, a whisper of his lips against mine, and then there is nothing but the muggy air in the room around us.
Luc holds me around the waist and once again pulls my body into his. Now something else is pushing back into my lower abdomen—something long and solid from between his legs. He’s hard.
I let out a little gasp. I can’t help it. Luc’s hard. For me. I made Luc hard. And as his lips pass by mine again, I tilt my head and stop them. Capture them with my own in a solid, scorching kiss. Our mouths open simultaneously and our tongues reach for each other hungrily.
I’m so overwhelmed by the sensation of his firm lips, his smooth tongue and wet mouth—I feel faint. I grab at his shirt, pulling him to me like there is a gap between us I need to close, but there isn’t. His hand on my lower back moves back to my ass and pushes me into him, holding me against him. His hard length is shamelessly pressed right into me, and I just as shamelessly rotate my hips, purposely rubbing it against my lower abdomen. Someone bumps us and I have to step back. Our lips disconnect, our eyes meet and reality crashes down around us.
He looks startled. Maybe terrified is a better word. I wish I could grab him and slip back into the erotic dream we were just living, but I know I can’t. So I do the only thing I can—I turn and escape.