Kirby: When are we hanging out? I need a Brie fix.
He’s signed his text with a winking face, and my heart swells at his words. Maybe there is hope for us yet.
I reply with a smiley face of my own.
Brielle: How about this weekend? I’m at Dazzle getting drunk right now.
Kirby: Long week?
Brielle: Something like that.
Kirby: Let’s hang out soon. I promise to cheer you up.
Brielle: Sounds good.
All at once, I feel better and more in control. If Hale’s taught me anything, it’s to let go of my self-consciousness and go with the flow. And right now, all I want is another cocktail, and the DJ to play that hip-hop song I love.
Lifting my hair off my neck in an attempt to cool down, I approach the bar and signal the bartender for another vodka cranberry. Soon, I’m stuffing a dollar into the tip jar and downing the bitter pink liquid in a long gulp.
When I feel a hand at my waist, I turn to find a man with messy dark hair and friendly blue eyes is smiling at me.
“I would offer you a drink, but I see you already have one.”
I raise the glass. “Yes, I’m all set.”
“How about a dance then?”
I open my mouth to refuse, but then the song I’ve been waiting to hear all night starts, and a surge of recklessness bubbles up inside me. I grab his hand, tugging him toward the dance floor.
Glancing back, I see him smile and set his beer down on a table as we pass. When we reach the center of the dance floor, I throw my hands up in the air and twist my body, dancing with my back to his front, wiggling against his groin and loving the way his hands skimming over my hips make me feel sexy and alive.
My mystery dance partner and I keep up our pace through three or four songs, until my bladder demands to be emptied. I lean in close to his ear, the intimacy of our dancing for the past fifteen minutes making me feel a false sense of comfort near him. Just as I’m about to whisper-shout that I need to use the restroom, a cool, firm grip latches onto my wrist and tugs me back into a broad male chest.
Black currant and sandalwood.
My body responds instantly, my nipples tightening in my bra, and chill bumps break out along my nape.
I turn and to come face-to-face with Hale, noting his features are twisted. He’s mad, but I have no idea why.
“What are you doing here?” I shout over the music, not understanding how he knew where I was tonight. Or maybe it’s nothing more than a coincidence, but a flicker of awareness claws at the back of my mind until the alcohol and the angry man in front of me trump it.
He curls one hand around mine and tugs me from the dance floor. We’re heading for the back hallway and the bathrooms, thank God, so I don’t protest.
Hale continues tugging me down the dimly lit hallway, past the restrooms and supply closets, until we’re standing near the fire exit. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, when his mouth closes hot and hungry over mine.
He assaults me with passionate kisses, and all my questions die on my lips. Nothing matters right now except his touch. His hands slip under the edge of my shirt, tickling the flesh of my stomach, stopping just below the lace of my bra.
I’m immediately transported back to earlier today when he withheld my orgasm. My body, primed and ready, flexes toward his, my hips pushing forward until I feel his thick erection.
He bites my lower lip, barely enough to sting, and I can’t help the moan that escapes at his rough contact. Then he pins me to the wall—hard—and my breath whooshes out of my lungs in a gasp.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks, pulling his mouth from mine.
Me? He’s the one who showed up here acting like a Neanderthal.
“What do you mean?” I ask, breathless.
“I denied your release earlier, and now you’re out getting drunk at a nightclub, dancing with a man who’d happily take you home and fuck you. What am I supposed to think?”
His eyes are blazing on mine and his hair is messy and out of place, both indications he’s out of control in a way I’ve never seen him before. I don’t know if I love it or hate it.
My brain snaps into comprehension as all the puzzle pieces drop into place. “Are you jealous?”
His hand grips around my hip, and he squeezes. “You’re supposed to be mine for the next six weeks.”
“I am yours.” The words have an undeniable truth to them that makes me feel like weeping. God, how did I allow myself to get so wrapped up in a man I can never have?
“Then let me ask you again, Brielle. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m trying to get drunk and let loose. I’m sorry if you failed to notice, but this is fucking confusing.” I gesture between me and him. The liquor has loosened my tongue, and I don’t care. Suddenly, I want Hale to feel every bit as confused and out of control as I do.
He presses closer, his hips brushing mine as he asks, “What’s confusing about it?” His mouth is mere inches from mine, his warm breath feathering over my lips.
“Why did you ask to kiss me that first night?” I whisper.
He’s quiet for a moment while he watches my eyes as if he’s contemplating how to answer. “I needed to see how you kissed. I needed to know if that was a skill we needed to work on together.” His voice is composed and confident. But the pulse ticking in his throat, and the way his eyes strayed from mine when he answered…something feels off.
“I don’t believe you.”