It takes every ounce of my self-control not to pull him down so I can bite it, too.
God, whoamI?
There isn’t even a breath between us anymore. His hands mold over my ass to swivel me to the rhythm of the music. His cologne invades my senses, and his dick is hard against my belly. I’m pushing into him, way more than I would if I were dancing with a complete stranger. But despite the fact that I haven’t seen Noble in nine years, I know him. I saw him every single day from sixth through twelfth grade. And while we’ve never been this close, never touched like this or moved like this,there’s something familiar about him all the same, something that draws me in. The beat thumps in my blood, making me feel hot and a little reckless.
Maybe alotreckless. Time will tell.
The next song has a slower rhythm. I step back and take a moment to fan my face, catch my breath, look away from the fire in those hypnotic green eyes. Somehow, my attempt to beguile him backfired, and now I’m the one in his thrall.
Before I can say something to erase the intensity of the moment, Noble grips my elbow and propels me toward the bar.
“Come on,” he grinds out. “Let’s get you that drink.”
Chapter 4
Gideon
I flash the bartender a hundred-dollar bill between my fingers, and we receive our drinks immediately. Thank God, because I need to cool the fuck down.
Three songs. That’s all it took to make me wish Torres and I were alone, instead of in a crowded club. To make me wish we were different people with a less complicated past.
It started out innocently enough, but with her soft breasts pressed to my chest and her tight butt filling my palms, I got hard and couldn’t hide it. She didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, she pressed closer, her dark eyes glued to mine with desire simmering in their depths.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.
There’s a small seating area separate from the dance floor, and it’s blessedly devoid of strobe lights and humans. We carry our drinks to a vacant table in the corner with two battered wooden café chairs.
Torres perches on one and crosses her legs. My eyes follow the line of her boot up to her bare knee. I imagine tugging down the zipper and sliding her boot off, closing my fingers around her delicate ankle, spreading her thighs, and—
Fuck, I need to get a grip.
She eyes me over the rim of her vodka cranberry as she toys with the tiny straw. “So is this where we sit and reminisce about the good old days?”
And with that, my arousal plummets.
“Shit.” I take a slow sip of my whiskey. “Nothing good about them.”
She raises her eyebrows, like she’s surprised by my answer. “No?”
I shake my head and change the subject. “What have you been up to?”
We’re both lawyers, it turns out, which gives us something easy to talk about. But whereas I’m working in finance, she’s an environmental lawyer.
As we chat, I recall the last time I teased her. We were around fourteen. I came across her in the school library, sitting alone at a table with a laptop open in front of her, surroundedby books and papers. I can’t remember what I said, probably something tired and trite. She didn’t even look up from her notebook as she declared, “Go fuck yourself, Noble. I’m busy.” Her dismissive tone struck me and made me realize—for the first time, I’m ashamed to admit—thatIwas the asshole in this situation.
After that, I might’ve tried to talk to her a few more times, innocuous comments about class or homework, but she’d responded with the same bored indifference she used when I’d been mocking her, and my fragile teenage ego couldn’t handle it. I barely talked to her through the rest of high school. There was one moment of weakness at graduation, and then ... nothing.
Until now.
She’s telling me about a project involving the Clean Water Act, when a crowd of scantily clad North Pole elves piles into the room. Torres is forced to scoot her chair closer to mine, and I get a clearer whiff of the sweet citrus scent that so tantalized me on the dance floor. I lean in for a deeper inhale and pitch my voice over the raucous laughter coming from Santa’s helpers.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, bringing the conversation back to the present moment. “Doesn’t seem like your scene.”
Her lips purse. “No?”
“Not unless they’re hiding theBeauty and the Beastlibrary in the basement.”
She tilts her head back to chuckle, and I stare longingly at the line of her throat.
