“They’re not even my students anymore and it still stresses me out.”
“I mean, they’re the ones underage drinking, I think we’re good.”
“Yeah?” she asks as he downs the amber liquid in his cup.
“Yeah,” he agrees, just as the lights go down and a hush full of urgency and anticipation washes over the crowd.
She turns toward the stage and feels him move in behind her as the crowd surges forward around them, straining toward thegates and line of security guards in the gap between them and the biggest star in the world.
Bianca’s happy to stand back and just take it all in as the beat picks up from the speakers, buzzing over her skin, deep and resonant, and then Mari marches out on stage, all glitz and sparkles, her voice sultry and absolute fire.
The energy is palpable, an exchange back and forth from the songstress to the crowd and back again, and there’s no stopping Bianca’s hips from twisting, her arms rising to the rafters as the music takes hold.
And Xavier’s there, behind her, her shoulders pressed into his chest, as his hand comes up around her waist, settling low on her belly, holding her to him.
There’s plenty of space in the VIP section to dance.
She’s facing away from him, singing along with Mari’s lyrics, but her back is up against his front and it’s easy to just let him wrap his hands around her hips and move with her. One of her arms goes back around his neck when he leans down. The song starts to fade and his breath is warm against her cheek as he murmurs against her ear while he tugs her back against him, firm and insistent.
“You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
The words shoot straight through her as she grinds into him, feeling just how much he wants her.
It’s too much, the need coursing through her, too much to contain.
Spinning in his arms, she says, “We need to go.” Looking up into his eyes as they register the words, his expression shifts from intense lust to true concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a hand rising to cup her cheek, and she leans into the contact. “Do you feel sick?”
“No,” she says, grasping the front of his shirt to pull him in closer, pushing up on her tiptoes to press her mouth against hisear so he’ll hear her loud and clear as the music kicks up again, “but if we don’t leave right now, I’m going to suck you off in the middle of this crowd and then we’ll end up in jail and I can’t . . .”
He pulls away as she falls back onto her heels, his eyes wide, that sparkling green almost entirely taken over by the black of his pupils, pure fire pouring out of them as her words seem to fully register.
“Let’s go.”
Nothing has ever threatened her near-perfect Uber passenger rating more than the drive from the arena back to her apartment. She presses herself into the corner of the car, as far away from Xavier as possible, and he respects the distance, but eye contact is enough to keep the electricity crackling between them as their driver weaves in and out of LA’s typical nighttime gridlock, as if she can sense that if she doesn’t hurry, she’s going to get one hell of a show in the backseat.
The Uber’s taillights are headed down the street away from them and they walk as fast as they can back up the stairs and down the hallway and through her door and suddenly, they’re back.
And things feel different.
“Are we really doing this?” he asks as she takes his hand and leads him across the living room to her bedroom door.
She leans against the doorframe and pulls him closer, letting go of his hand and reaching up to twist her fingers into the bottom of his shirt.
“If you want to.”
“Oh, I want to. I’m just waiting for the inevitable knock on the door. You’re not hiding any more friends anywhere, are you?”
Laughing softly, she shakes her head. “No, no more friends, but . . . just so you know, it’s been a minute,” she admits, looking up into his eyes, and there’s surprise there.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
Bianca lets out a soft snort of disbelief. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”
