We grab one another’s hands and plunge into the crowd, making room for ourselves on the dance floor.
For the next hour we laugh and dance together, swinging our hair and shaking our asses to the music. Guys dance up behind us, trying to get in on the fun. As long as they keep their hands off our butts, we let them stick around. As soon as they get too comfortable and start pawing at us, we link hands and shimmy our way to another spot.
“I’ve seen you on TV,” some guy says in my ear. “Aren’t you the chick on that sports show?”
I smirk over my shoulder at him. “Chick?”
“Woman,” he amends with a grin some girls might find sexy. “You probably hear this all the time, but you’re hot as fuck.”
I just laugh and twirl around to face him, lifting my arms over my head and closing my eyes to lose myself in the music.
Halfway through the song, I feel a prickling heat on the back of my neck, a sensation of being watched.
Opening my eyes, I look around and then up toward the second floor.
My breath escapes me in a gasp.
Reyes and a bunch of his new teammates are standing at the balcony reserved for VIPs. Surrounded by beautiful girls in skintight dresses, the players are laughing and drinking while observing the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor.
Reyes looks sexy as all hell in a black T-shirt, black jeans and black shit-kicking boots.
He’s watching my dance partner and me, his eyes hard and glittering with barely leashed violence. The intensity of his glare causes my stomach to flip and my knees to wobble.
“Holy shit,” a voice squeals in my ear. “He looks fucking pissed!”
I glance around to find Zoe dancing beside me. There’s an excited gleam in her eyes as she looks from Reyes to me.
“Do you see the way he’s staring at you?” she exclaims. “You have got to tell me what happened between you guys!”
I frown as a buzz of excitement sweeps through the crowd. My dance partner and many others are pointing up at Reyes on the balcony.
Someone starts chanting his name. The chant grows into a roar, drowning out the loud music.
My friends beam at me, thoroughly delighted about all of this.
I feel hot and flustered. When I look up at the balcony again, Reyes is gone.
We ditch the guys and return to our table to order fresh drinks.
“Oh, my God!” Teagan squeals, grinning excitedly at me. “Did you and Reyes hook up after the press conference yesterday?”
I frown. “Of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because the way he was staring at you just now—”
“He wasn’t.”
“He totally was,” Zoe asserts.
As Teagan divides a look between us, it’s all I can do not to jam the pointy heel of my shoe into Zoe’s shin.
“God, he’s gorgeous,” Daisy breathes. “I wanna meet him so bad.”
“Me, too.” Teagan stares longingly toward the balcony. “I wish we could sneak into the VIP section.”
“Maybe we don’t have to sneak in.” Daisy eyes me hopefully. “The manager gave us this awesome private table because he’s a big fan of yours. You’re a celebrity, Em. Can’t you get us into VIP?”
I chuckle. “I don’t think so.”
“C’mon, Em,” she wheedles. “You’re on a first-name basis with every professional athlete in town. Last year you were invited to an NBA player’s birthday party.”
“And that wasn’t the first time,” Teagan points out.
I sip my drink. “Just because I’m friendly with some athletes doesn’t mean we’re friends. I have to maintain professional boundar—”
Daisy and Teagan interrupt my spiel with loud groans.
I frown and swallow another mouthful of margarita, glancing surreptitiously at the balcony. It shouldn’t bother me that Reyes is out clubbing with his new teammates. I know how important it is for them to build chemistry, and partying together is certainly one way to bond. I just wish they’d chosen some other activity. One that doesn’t involve booze and groupies. Especially groupies.
Zoe leans toward me and grins, a conspiratorial curl of lips that has her gray eyes sparkling with wicked mischief. “I dare you to go up there and ask Reyes to dance.”
I shoot her an are-you-crazy look.
She stares challengingly at me, not backing down.
I narrow my eyes. What the hell is she up to? Is this her way of punishing me for not telling her about Reyes?
“Well?”
I hold my ground. “No.”
“C’mon, Em,” she cajoles. “Just ask him.”
“I don’t want to. Plus I’m all sweaty from dancing,” I say, pulling at the top of my dress to fan myself. “I probably stink.”
Daisy leans over and sniffs me. “Nope. You’re good to go.”
I scowl at her. “I’m still not—”
“Well shit,” Teagan says, starting to get up. “If you don’t wanna ask him to dance—”
“No.” Zoe puts her hand over Teagan’s to stop her. “Let Em do it.”
“But she said—”
“I know what she said.” Zoe holds my eyes with hers. “But it has to be her.”
I swallow hard. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. There’s a sadomasochistic part of me that wants to take her up on her dare. I know I shouldn’t. But the pull is strong.
Daisy and Teagan begin chanting, “Do it! Do it! Do it!”
Zoe joins in, banging on the table.
“Okay, okay,” I finally relent. “I’ll do it.”
They whoop excitedly and cheer me on as I chug my drink, needing all the liquid courage I can get.
After slamming the empty glass on the table, I stand up and smooth down my dress.
Daisy winks at me. “Go get him, tigress. Rawr.”
The girls’ laughter follows me as I weave through the crowd and head up a spiral steel staircase to the roped-off VIP section.
The bouncer at the entrance breaks into a huge grin when he sees me. During football season he works security at Renegades games. I’ve known him for years. He’s good people.
“What’s up, gorgeous?” Garry leans down to wrap me in a bear hug. “How long you been here?”
“Long enough to wish I’d worn sneakers,” I retort jokingly.
“Nah. Not with this outfit.” He gives me an appreciative once-over and smiles. “Came to hang out with the fellas?”
“Just for a little bit.” I wink. “I need inspiration for my next article.”
“Gotcha.” Garry grins and lifts the velvet rope to let me into the VIP section.
Plush black leather couches hug the walls. There’s a curved bar and a small dance floor that’s currently unoccupied. The lighting is dim and the music is quieter.
The players are lounging around with half-naked groupies draped all over them. Some are receiving lap dances and God only knows what else.
I stand at the entrance, looking around until I find Reyes tucked away in a private corner. He’s holding a drink in one hand. The other hand rests on the hip of a stunning brunette nestled on his lap.
Unnerved by the sight of him cozied up with another woman, I take a deep breath and start toward him, making my way along the wall. Several players call out friendly greetings to me. I smile and wave without breaking stride.
Reyes watches me approach with the stillness of a predator poised to attack. It’s positively nerve-shredding, but I force myself to keep going.
By the time I stop in front of him, my heart has practically battered its way out of my ribcage.
He looks up at me, his face like a mask.
As I stare back at him, I’m struck by how completely different he is. The warm, playful boy I once knew has been replaced by a grown man—brutally male, breathtakingly virile, powerfully self-assured.
“Emerson.” His voice is a low, sexy rumble. “What can I do for you?”
“Dance with me,” I blurt out befo
re I lose my nerve.
His eyes darken.
The brunette’s face twists with indignation. “Excuse you?”
I ignore her as Reyes slowly looks me over, taking in every curve of my body. Those penetrating golden eyes seem to see beneath my skin, sending a wave of searing heat through me.
I hold my breath, waiting for his reply. If he turns me down, I’ll probably die of humiliation right there on the spot.
He lifts his drink to his mouth and takes a leisurely sip, his thumb stroking the brunette’s hip.
She purrs, looking at me with smug satisfaction while jealousy claws at my insides.
I watch in silent agony as Reyes lowers his glass and gives me a slow smile, looking me in the eye.
“Okay.”
My knees almost buckle with relief.
The brunette sputters in protest. “Seriously?”
Reyes barely glances at her. “We’ll catch up later.”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish until he says flatly, “Leave.”
She looks so hurt I almost feel sorry for her. That is, until she skewers me with a venomous glare and mouths Bitch!
I cock an eyebrow, watching as she struggles off Reyes’s lap. Stumbling to her feet, she yanks down the hem of her minidress and shoots me another nasty glare before flouncing off in a huff.
I stare after her, then turn back to Reyes and bite my lip. “Sorry for crashing your party.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “No, you’re not.”
He’s right. I’m not.
He downs the rest of his drink and hands the empty glass to a hovering waitress. She looks like she wants to lick the rim where his mouth was. She probably will as soon as she’s safely out of sight.
Reyes rises from the couch, his black jeans clinging to his bulging thighs. He’s so tall that he towers over me, even when I’m wearing skyscraper heels. With his massive shoulders and wide chest, he’s a mountain of rock-hard muscle.
I swallow thickly, my mouth going dry.
He takes my hand and leads me toward the empty dance floor. When some of his teammates whistle encouragingly, I blush and duck my head like a shy convent schoolgirl.
I can’t believe I let my friends talk me into this crazy stunt. I hope it won’t backfire spectacularly, but I’m not very optimistic.
When we reach the dance floor, Reyes pulls me close, his arms sliding around my waist. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive as electricity zings between us, so hot and sizzling my breath catches.
Reyes feels it, too. I see it in his darkening eyes and the tightening of his jaw.
I wrap my arms around his neck and lean into him, my cheek brushing against his. Every damn inch of him is hard. There probably isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. And he smells absolutely amazing. A mixture of shampoo, soap and the slightly spicy tang of an expensive cologne.
We dance without speaking, moving slower than the rhythm of the music demands. The first song is followed by Halsey’s “Graveyard,” which tells the story of a toxic lover leading her down a path of destruction.
“Who was that guy you were dancing with?” Reyes asks.
My body tenses. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” There’s a hard edge to his voice.
“He’s just some guy who showed up. I didn’t ask his name. Didn’t care to.”
Reyes says nothing.
I peek up at his face. His eyes are lowered, those enviably long lashes resting against his cheeks.
I find myself holding my breath until his big hands tighten around my hips, pulling me closer. Possessively close.
I can feel heat gathering between my thighs, dampening my panties. My nipples are painfully tight and my skin is tingling. The thick bulge that fills his jeans burns against my belly. I want to stand on tiptoe and rock my hips into all that delicious hardness. I want to plunge my fingers into his hair and pull his mouth down to mine. I want to kiss him and suck his tongue until he groans my name in his rough, sexy voice.
As if he’d sensed my thoughts, his hands flex on my hips. A quiver runs through me and my pulse ratchets up several notches.
“Remember our first dance?” he asks, his lips close to my ear.
I shiver before nodding. “It was at your godsister’s quinceañera. We were twelve. My mom made me wear that hideous orange dress with the big poufy sleeves. I hated it, and you told me I looked like a piñata.”
A smile tugs at his sexy mouth. “I love piñatas. It was a compliment.”
“A really shitty one,” I grumble. “Which is why I stomped on your foot and stormed off the dance floor.”
His broad chest rumbles with laughter. It makes me smile.
“I thought you were beautiful,” he confesses. “That’s why I asked you to dance.”
My heart spins. “You said your mom made you do it.”
“I lied.”
Grinning like an idiot, I lay my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. We sway together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, getting lost in the music and each other.
I didn’t realize until then just how much I’d missed him. God, how I’d missed him. I can’t help wondering if he feels the same, if he’s thought about me over the years as much as I’ve thought about him.
I lift my head when his hands slide lower down my back, resting just above the curve of my ass. Our eyes lock, the air between us pulsing with raw sexual tension.
He guides my hips into a slow grind, watching my face with almost predatory focus. “I’m curious.”
“About what?” I whisper.
Something has changed. I see it in his eyes, feel it in his body.
“Which one of your little friends put you up to this?” he asks mockingly.
The question throws me off balance. “I . . . I . . .”
He shakes his head at me, his beautiful mouth twisting with bitter scorn. “I knew it couldn’t have been your idea. You’ve never been brave enough to go after what you want.”
His words cut deeper than any knife. When I try to pull away, his arms tighten around me.
I stare up at him accusingly. “Why did you really come to Piedmont Bay?”
His eyes glitter, hard and cold as frosted glass. “Are you suggesting I came here because of you?”
“Did you?” I challenge.
Sneering, he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Piedmont Bay was my second home growing up. I have family here. Personal connections. If anyone doesn’t belong here, it’s you.”
I bristle with anger. “I got a job after college.”
He smirks at me. “Convenient.”
His arrogance pushes me over the edge.
“Let’s get something straight,” I hiss, jabbing my finger into his chest. “I wasn’t thinking about you when I accepted the job at the Gazette. Do you honestly think I came here clinging to some pathetic hope that you’d play for the Renegades someday so we could be reunited?” I snort. “Get over yourself.”
His eyes turn viciously mocking. “I’m not the one who came up here looking for a dance partner.” His cold gaze rakes me dismissively. “Now that you’ve won your childish little bet, you can kindly get the fuck out.”
Humiliation scalds my cheeks. “Sorry for disturbing you,” I say tightly. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He gives me a twisted smile. “You bet I will.”
I spin and march away from him, drawing curious stares from his teammates. My chest is rising and falling in shallow breaths and I’m embarrassingly close to tears.
Reaching the exit, I stupidly glance back to see Reyes crooking his finger at the stacked brunette he’d dismissed earlier. She leaps out of his teammate’s lap and goes running to him with a simpering smile.
Nausea twisting my insides, I turn away and hurry back downstairs.
When I get to my table, the girls stare expectantly at me. “Well? How’d it go?”
Blinking back tears, I snatch
Zoe’s glass and knock back the rest of her drink.
The girls exchange concerned looks. “You okay?”
“I don’t feel well,” I say in a choked voice. “Can we just go?”
They wordlessly grab their things and follow me out the door.
Chapter Five
REYES
It takes everything i have not to go after her, not to chase her down, grab her by the shoulders and . . . what?
Kiss her?
Yell at her?
Tell her I’m going fucking crazy without her?
“Let’s have some fun, handsome,” a breathy voice whispers in my ear.
I completely forgot about the sexy brunette straddling my lap. She introduced herself at some point, but her name totally escapes me and I don’t care enough to ask her to repeat it. I know that’s pretty dickish, and my mama raised me better than that. But she’s gone now, so here we are.
I stroke my hand down the brunette’s hip, but all I’m remembering is the feel of Emerson in my arms, the way her curves molded to my body like she was custom-made for me.
Once upon a time, I would have sworn on my life that she was specially created for me. I was so convinced of it that I almost married her. What a sad fucking joke.
“You’re so hot,” the brunette purrs seductively, nibbling my earlobe.
I close my eyes and bury my face in her neck, but it’s Emerson’s skin I’m smelling, that intoxicating mixture of citrus and honeysuckle that makes my mouth water. I press my nose into the brunette’s neck, but no matter how deeply I inhale, she’ll never smell like Emerson.
With growing frustration, I pull away and run my hand through her long hair. It’s beautiful but it’s the wrong color. The strands sliding between my fingers are nearly black, not the glossy reddish waves I’ve seen in my dreams for the past eight years.
I feel like I’m losing my mind.
I can’t sleep. I can barely eat.
Every time I close my eyes, all I see is her.
I’m obsessed. Fucking obsessed.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The brunette is whispering dirty nothings in my ear, letting me know in the most graphic terms that she’s up for anything. I could fuck her right here in full view of my teammates. I could tell her to get down on her knees and suck my cock. I could shoot a load down her throat, and she’d swallow every drop and thank me with a smile. Just like every other groupie I’ve ever banged.
Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1) Page 4