Chapter 132
Something in the way Miles looks at me begs me to stay, even though every logical thought in my brain is telling me to run away and not look back. We can’t do this here, with Selena, bright and beautiful, sitting beside him.
All the articles I’ve read, I thought hurt me. Seeing the two of them in the flesh hurts even more.
Miles turns away from me then and slings his arm around Selena’s shoulders.
He doesn’t care about me like I care about him, or he wouldn’t flaunt what they have so much, right in front of me.
Ugly jealousy crawls up my throat. Stubbornly, I plant my feet.
Cynthia, noticing my sudden shift, abruptly stops as well. “What is it?” she asks me. She has to shout to be heard over the techno beat. “Aren’t we leaving?”
“I need a drink,” I tell her.
She gives me an uncertain look. “This is a terrible idea.”
“I’m not going to let him ruin this for me.”
“There are other clubs,” Cynthia tries to say, but I’m already turning back around and heading for the bar. She hurries to keep pace with me.
Maybe there are other clubs, but this one has a good vibe and a good group of people that I’ve already started to sort through. Who knows what the clientele of the other places might look like? This is as good a spot as any.
Cynthia flags the bartender down. “Two margarita on the rocks, and two extra shots. All top shelf tequila please.”
The bartender grabs an expensive looking bottle off the shelf and shows Cynthia. She gives him a thumbs up.
“Do I want to know what this bar tab is going to be?” I ask.
“A hundred dollars a shot. Savor it.”
The bartender returns with our tequila shots right away. The margaritas take a while longer. Tequila shots are not usually my thing, but this expensive stuff goes down so smoothly, the shot glass is empty before I know it.
“Wow,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” Cynthia says. “Now. Tell me which one of these men you are going to dance with.”
With another shot and half a margarita, I feel bolder. I point out a man our age. “That one.”
“Please,” Cynthia snorts. “He’s dressed like he’s taking his kids to soccer practice.”
“That’s something I want,” I say, the tipsiness definitely kicking in.
Cynthia rolls her eyes. “At least pick someone not wearing socks and sandals.”
Okay… maybe that is a strange choice for the club. She might have a point. With that in mind, I cast my net a bit wider, looking over the room – although I pointedly avoid looking where I know Miles and Selena to be.
“There. How about that one…?”
Cynthia glances where I’m pointing. The man in question is older than us, in his forties probably, judging by the bits of gray in his hair. He’s wearing dark slacks, nice shoes, and a deep blue shirt that brings out his eyes… I think. It’s hard to tell from here.
“Not bad, not bad,” Cynthia says. “Going for that silver fox tonight?”
“I want something different,” I admit.
“Oops, he caught us looking. Here he comes.”
The man indeed approaches us. His smile is a bit strange, a bit awkward, and it doesn’t quite match his eyes, which are hazy with drink.
He’s drunk. But then, so am I. Who am I to judge?
We introduce ourselves. His name is Chuck and he works as an insurance salesman. That’s a perfectly normal kind of job. He seems like a perfectly normal kind of man.
“Should we dance?” I ask him.
He eagerly nods.
As the more sober of the two of us, I take his hand and lead him out toward the dance floor. Soon as our feet touch that illuminated floor, it’s like a switch flips on inside of him. Curling his arms around me, his hand immediately goes down to grab my ass!
“Hey!” I say, smacking his arm.
He laughs like it’s some big joke. “Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Don’t do that again,” I snap. As his hands are now back on my waist, I can ignore that temporary lapse of judgement on his part, especially since he’s so drunk.
Quickly we fall into a rhythm, dancing with one another. As he turn he tugs me closer, sliding his thigh between mine for me to grind on. This isn’t typically my style, but I’ve drunk enough to try it.
I’ve also drunk enough to dare looking at Miles back at the bar.
He’s staring straight back at me with such an intense focus that it sends a delightful shiver up my spine.
This, unfortunately, gives Chuck the wrong idea, and his hands dip lower again. He grabs my ass with both hands this time. Furious, I try to push him back, but the drunk asshole just holds on tighter.
“Don’t be that way, baby. Let Daddy have his fill.”
Repulsion fills my stomach so fast, I’m going to be sick.
Yet just as I open my mouth to scream, a hand clasps down on Chuck’s shoulder and his is physically ripped away from me.
Miles throws him down on the ground outside of the dance floor. Turning to me, this close, I can see the furious rage burning in Miles’s eyes. He’s positively seething.
“Miles…” I start to say.
Before I can explain myself, he grabs my hand and drags me farther into the sea of people on the dance floor. I glance back at the bar, confused. Aren’t we going the wrong way?
When we are in the center of the crowd, Miles stops, turns to me, and then puts his hands on my hips. Dragging me close to him, he slots his thigh between mine, just as Chuck did, though this is much more welcome.
We shouldn’t be doing this, but the alcohol has lowered my inhibitions enough that I can’t totally remember the full reason why.
Miles feels so good against me, his hard body pressed against my curves. His hands holding me firmly, safely. I’m safe with Miles, so much more so than with Chuck.
Relaxing, feeling the music, I lower my head down onto Miles’s shoulder as we sway in rhythm with the song.
This is a stolen moment. A flash in the pan that’s certain not to last.
I try to hold onto it – onto him – as much as I can.
Miles lifts one hand and cupping my jaw, coaxes my face up towards his.
His eyes are dark in this light, deep and dark as an oceanic trench. He’s still seething, lips curled downwards, but there’s something else in that expression. In those eyes.
Something that hurts to look at, since I know I can never claim it as my own.
Especially as he is engaged.
What am I doing, dancing with him like this? With Selena in the same room?
“We can’t…” I start to say, start to pull away.
Then, as the beat drops in the song, the lights go out.
In the dark, Miles’s mouth crashes down onto mine.
Hands on my hips, tongue in my mouth, he kisses me like it’s the last time.
When the lights come back up again, he pushes me away. Leaving me in the center of the dance floor, he walks back to the bar.
