Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
A friend of his joined us a few minutes later, and that led to us getting coupled into dance parties for two. The guy with me wasn’t trying to grope me or anything, so I kept dancing. I closed my eyes and swayed to the music, but a hand snaking around my waist from behind spoiled the moment. My eyes flashed open. I assumed it was the guy I’d been dancing with getting too friendly, but he was still right in front of me. I whipped around, preparing to tell some asshole to get his hands off me, but halfway through my first word, I realized it wasn’t just any asshole. It was my asshole.
Weston.
He tightened his grip and leaned over my shoulder to speak to the man in front of me.
“She’s here with someone.”
It was a total alpha move, but somehow he pulled it off without seeming obnoxious. The guy I’d been dancing with looked at me for confirmation, and I sighed but nodded. He politely disappeared without a scene.
I turned around to face Weston. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Dancing. What does it look like?”
“Here? You just happened to feel like dancing tonight?”
He grinned. “Nope. I was invited by Scarlett.”
I searched through the crowd to find my friend. When our eyes caught, I glared at her. She grinned and wiggled her fingers.
Cute. Very cute.
Weston took the opportunity to slip his hands around my waist again. His hard chest pressed against my back as he started to sway. Leaning over my shoulder, he lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Relax and dance with me. You already know we have good rhythm together.”
I didn’t really have an opportunity to say yes or no. Weston just started to lead from behind, taking over the same way he did when we had sex—the same way I loved so much. It felt good, and our bodies really did move well together. So for once, I didn’t bother to fight it. I shut my eyes. One of Weston’s hands trailed possessively down my side as we moved, tracing its way from my ribs down over my hips to caress the top of my thigh. I lifted one arm and hooked it behind his neck, where his other hand held it in place.
We stayed that way for a few songs, and I could feel him swelling against the top of my back as time went on. Heat built inside of me, and I wondered to myself if the VIP bathroom was soundproof.
Weston leaned down and spoke into my ear again, “Want to take a break and get something to drink?”
I nodded. The music on the main floor made it virtually impossible to communicate unless there was a mouth right next to your ear. So we went back to the VIP table upstairs where we could hold a conversation.
The waitress came over the moment we sat down. She used tongs to pluck a chilled face cloth out of a basket and handed one to each of us. I used mine to wipe off the back of my neck, while Weston cooled off his face. We dropped them back into the basket and the waitress asked, “What can I get you to drink? Would you like more champagne?”
I smiled. “I’d love some. Thank you.”
“Just a water for me, thanks.”
I’d completely forgotten until that moment that Weston didn’t drink.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
Weston shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m the only one who needs to remember.”
“Isn’t it hard for you to be in this environment?”
He shook his head. “I avoided clubs and bars for the first six months. But now I’m okay with it. At least when it’s early. I loved the three-AM crowd when I was drinking. The later it got, the crazier the shit that happened. To me, that was the witching hour. I sometimes wouldn’t go out until one in the morning, so I could get shitfaced by three and be ready for the action. It’s funny, the first time I was in a bar at that time sober, I realized the people I’d thought were so much fun were really just a bunch of obnoxious assholes.”
“You had beer goggles on.”
“More like rum goggles, but yeah.”
I was so warm from dancing. I gathered the back of my hair into a ponytail and fanned myself to cool my skin.
“Hot still?”
“Roasting.” I looked down at the time on my phone. “I think Scarlett and I were on the dance floor for close to two hours.”
Weston nodded. “You were.”
My brows drew together. “How do you know?”
“I watched you from up here for at least an hour. Do you have one of those hair ties in your purse?”
I shook my head. “I wish.”
The waitress returned with my champagne and set down Weston’s water. “Can I get you anything else?”