by Brynley Bush
I love to dance. I took formal dance classes for years when I was younger, so it doesn’t take long for me to give myself over to the music and enjoy dancing with a guy who knows how to move. We start out facing each other as we move to the beat of the music, but before long his hands are on me, resting on my hips or occasionally skimming over my butt as we dance together. His arm goes around my waist, pulling me against him so our bodies are pressed together, and we shimmy in unison as we snake down towards the ground and then back up again. Our foreheads touch, and his face is so close to mine I can see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes as he smiles at me—a lazy, sexy smile that is as contagious as it is brilliant. He grabs my hand and spins me, expertly draping my arm around his neck as I complete the rotation and face him again. I let my fingers trail slowly down his chest as he watches, his eyes hooded, before I pull away.
We dance, our bodies communicating on some primitive level as we move together and then apart, his hands constantly touching some part of my body, igniting my skin. My head is spinning, but I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or Griffin, who’s just as intoxicating. He grasps both of my hands and turns me so my back is to his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist before moving his hands to my hips as we gyrate in time with each other. He takes my hand and wraps it around his neck, holding it captive there with a firm grip as we grind together in a slow circle. It’s erotic as hell, feeling the hardness of him against me. I feel a distinctly feminine satisfaction knowing I’m the cause of it. He spins me again, bringing me back to face him as our bodies press together again, but this time his hand rests at the back of my neck, the pressure of his fingers forcing me to look up at him.
My eyes widen at the unexpected intensity of his touch, but before I can react his mouth is on mine. My lids flutter closed. His lips are soft and warm, and I can’t help but kiss him back. He lightly licks my lips and they part involuntarily, giving him the access he clearly wants. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I can taste the alcohol on it like metallic sparks. In some distant part of my somewhat fuzzy brain I’m aware of his fingers tangling in my hair, holding me still as he ravages my mouth. I’m a willing participant and I kiss him back hungrily, my tongue tangling with his as I feel my stomach drop the rest of the way to my toes.
His tongue slides out of my mouth but he keeps his lips pressed to mine, completely still for a moment, as though he’s memorizing the imprint of my lips against his. I pull away and out of his embrace. The song is over and my heart is beating fast.
“Thanks for the dance,” I say breathlessly and walk away, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor.
Chapter Two
“What the hell was that?” Olivia demands, catching up with me at the bottom of the stairs.
“What was what?” I say, turning to face her.
“You just left arguably the most attractive man I have ever seen, who obviously has the hots for you, standing by himself on the dance floor!”
“So?” I say.
“So? So? So are you insane?” she cries. “Go back and dance with him! Go kiss him again! Go home with him! Anything! Don’t just walk away from the most sensual kiss I have ever seen in public between two people with their clothes still on!”
“The kiss didn’t mean anything,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her. “It was just a dare. Besides, I’m sure with a face and body like that he’s used to girls throwing themselves at him. I don’t plan to be one of them.”
Olivia rolls her eyes at me and places her hand on my arm. “You work harder than anyone I know. You’re smart. You’re gorgeous. Why are you so dead set against having a little fun with a guy on your birthday?”
“I’m not opposed to having a little fun with a guy on my birthday,” I protest. “Just not that guy,” I add stubbornly.
“You’d be pissed if someone judged you solely by your face and body. You should at least get to know him before you make assumptions about him based on his looks.”
“You get to know him if you think he’s so great,” I say vehemently. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Fine. I will,” she says flippantly, walking back toward the dance floor.
I walk slowly up the stairs. What is wrong with me? While there is definitely some sort of crazy sexual chemistry between us, it’s not like I’m actually interested in Griffin. It was just a dare. So why do I feel so miserable that Olivia is going to dance with him?
Back upstairs in the safety of the brightly lit, boisterously loud pub area, I find Brooklyn, David, and Simon still sitting in our booth.
“Where’s Jenna?” I ask.
“She went downstairs with Olivia to spy on you,” Brooklyn says. “What happened with Cute Guy?”
“I think he’s with Olivia,” I say off-handedly. “Anyone want to go upstairs and play pool?” I add, making it clear the discussion is closed.
The three of them exchange a look and then Simon says, “Sure.” He shoots a pointed look at Brooklyn and David, who nod and follow us upstairs to the pool area.
Simon has just finished an amazing run on the table, which culminates in him sinking the eight ball in a difficult shot for the win, when Olivia shows up with Griffin in tow.
His presence is palpable. My body turns to him like he holds a rope tethered to my waist and is slowly reeling it in.
“This is Griffin,” she says brightly to the others. “We’ll play the winners.”
I shoot daggers at her. I would bet my entire month’s paycheck on the fact that Olivia has absolutely no interest in Griffin. But while I appreciate her attempts to play matchmaker, it’s just not going to happen.
Brooklyn looks from Olivia to me and says slowly, “As much as I would love to stay, David and I have to head out. Jenna’s meeting up with us downstairs.”
Simon quickly says, “You guys want to give me a ride, too?”
In less than a minute I have been deserted by all three of them, leaving me alone with Olivia and Griffin.
“You guys will have to play by yourselves,” I say with a shrug. “My partner left.”
“You should try this drink,” Olivia says cheerfully, sidling up to me. As she hands me the glass, she leans over and says under her breath so that only I can hear her, “You said you weren’t opposed to having a little fun with a guy on your birthday. So prove it! Why don’t you go ask that guy if he’ll be your partner?”
I follow her gaze to the group of five guys playing pool at the table next to us. The one who’s not currently playing is cute in a nerdy sort of way in his brown Dockers and hipster, black-framed glasses. He looks sweet and earnest and is about as far from my type as a guy can get, which Olivia knows full well. She looks at me, the challenge in her eyes.
“Fine,” I say airily.
I walk confidently over to the pool table next to us, aware of the guys sizing me up appreciatively.
“Do you guys have any chalk?” I say flirtatiously. “We seem to have lost ours.”
Two of the guys, including the sweetly nerdy one Olivia singled out, stumble over each other as they reach for the square of chalk on the side of the pool table. Nerdy guy wins and hands it to me shyly. I can feel Griffin’s gaze boring into the back of my head.
“Thanks,” I say, letting my hand brush his as I take the chalk from him. His hand is warm and smooth, but I don’t feel even a spark of electricity, and definitely nothing like the shock of current that coursed through me whenever Griffin touched me on the dance floor.
“Listen” I say, lowering my lashes for a split second before I go in for the kill. “My friend had to leave. Is there any way you’d be willing to be my pool partner?”
“Sure,” he says eagerly. “I’m the odd man out here anyway.”
“Great,” I say brightly as he follows me back to our table. “What’s your name?”
“Jack,” he replies.
“This is Jack,” I say to Olivia and Griffin as we rejoin them. “He’s graciously agreed to be my partner.”
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Griffin looks like he’d like to kill Jack with his bare hands, and I can’t help but suppress a small smile.
“Hi, Jack,” Olivia says warmly. “I’m Olivia.”
Jack smiles back at her. Although he looks a bit terrified, he tentatively shakes the hand Griffin offers him. “Griffin,” Griffin says curtly, shaking Jack’s hand.
Jack looks back at me. “I didn’t catch your name,” he says.
“It’s Mila,” Griffin interjects, apparently trying to make a point.
“So, who wants to break?” I say brightly.
Fifteen minutes later, there is one stripe and one solid left on the table. Jack is surprisingly good, but not so surprisingly, so is Griffin. Olivia and I aren’t terrible, but the game definitely hinges on the skill of the men. There’s been casual banter between the four of us as we play, but Griffin hasn’t said anything to me directly, although I can feel his eyes on me every time I take a shot. Thanks to Olivia’s nosiness thinly disguised as flirtatious interest, I have learned that Griffin is thirty-four, grew up in Texas but now lives in Ocean Beach, and works in the security business. Although Olivia volunteers that she’s in marketing, neither man asks me what I do for a living and I don’t volunteer the information. I‘ve learned the hard way that once you tell a guy you’re a lawyer, they treat you differently. For tonight, I’d just as soon be another pretty girl at a bar.
Olivia has been equally flirtatious with Jack, who is thirty and an accountant originally from the Bay area. If I’m not mistaken (and I rarely am when it comes to Olivia and men), she likes him. He is totally her type. Although she’s a blonde bombshell, Olivia is a nerd at heart. It’s one of the things I like best about her.
Jack seems just as interested in her, and Griffin’s attitude toward Jack slowly thaws as he notices it too. I’m certain I’m right when Griffin sinks the five ball, followed by the eight, and Jack says nonchalantly, “Let’s change it up and switch partners for the next game.”
“Great idea,” Griffin says, winking at me. Ka-thunk. My stomach drops back down to my toes.
“Ummm,” I stall, trying and failing to think of some way, any way, to get out of this.
“Are you scared of me?” Griffin says, his voice low so that only I can hear him. He has come around the table and is so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off of his powerful body.
“Of course not,” I fib. “Why would I be scared of you?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his voice deceptively casual as he runs his thumb lightly over my knuckles. The charge of electricity leaves me breathless. “Why would you be scared of me? But you ran away after I kissed you, and people have a tendency to run away from things they’re scared of.”
“I’m not scared of you!” I protest, trying to convince myself as much as him.
“Prove it.” He says it softly, but the challenge in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Fine!” I say, downing the Crown and Coke the waitress has just brought me in one gulp. I’d switched to water before Olivia and Griffin showed up, but I have a feeling I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get. Looking Griffin straight in the eye I say, “I’ll break.”
Griffin leans back against the bar stool, smiling broadly. “That’s my girl,” he says approvingly, and I feel an inexplicable warmth spread through me at his praise.
Once Jack has set up the billiard balls, I move to the end of the table, pool cue in hand. “I’m not that great at breaking,” I say apologetically. I lean over to position the pool cue and feel Griffin behind me, his chest hard and his t-shirt soft against my bare back as he leans his body over mine. His arms cage me as he places his right hand over mine, pulling the cue up and back.
“You want to pull farther back to get a powerful shot,” he says softly near my ear. “And don’t rest the stick on the table. You want to make a closed bridge with your fingers like this.”
He demonstrates, but with his arms around me I’m having trouble focusing. The physicality of his nearness is completely and utterly distracting. I nod and he moves away. I pull the cue back like he instructed and somehow manage a decent break, sinking two solids.
“Woo hoo.” I pump my fist in the air and smile at Griffin. “That actually worked!”
He winks at me again. “Of course it did. Now take your next shot, sweetheart.” The slight southern drawl in his voice, combined with the endearment, makes my knees weak. It’s a good thing I’ve never lived in the south.
I lean over the table. “How does this look?” I ask, lining up my shot.
“It looks great from here,” he says appreciatively, staring pointedly at my bottom, and I blush. I miss the shot, but it doesn’t matter because it’s quickly becoming apparent that the game Griffin and I are playing has nothing to do with pool.
“I’ll sink the rest of our balls if you’ll kiss me again,” Griffin says as I hand him the cue, his eyes sensual.
He takes a predatory step closer to me until we’re face to face, the sexual tension between us palpable.
“I have a boyfriend,” I say indifferently, looking away.
His fingers on my chin force my gaze back to his. “Break up with him.”
“Maybe I’m just not interested,” I say, hoping my racing pulse doesn’t give me away.
“Bullshit!” he counters, tilting my chin up slightly to meet his smoldering gaze. “You’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”
I look at Olivia, hoping she’ll bail me out, but she’s engrossed in conversation with Jack. With her blonde head bent close to his darker one, she’s oblivious to my plight.
“Whatever!” I bluff flippantly. Lowering my voice to a stage whisper I say, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re just not that attractive.”
“No?” he says, quirking one eyebrow at me, his eyes laughing.
“No,” I say, shaking my head sadly. “It’s kind of sad really. You obviously need to work out a little more, and really, you have a face that only a mother could love.”
He laughs out loud, and I notice again the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. He is freaking gorgeous. Not that I will ever admit it to him.
“You at least have to admit I can dance,” he says, his eyes still dancing with laughter.
“Oh,” I say, biting my lip. “Is that what you call it?”
He throws his head back as he laughs again and then says, “Well, then. Surely you can’t deny a poor ugly guy like me who can’t dance a pity kiss.”
“Alright,” I concede. “One pity kiss. I seriously doubt you can sink five balls in a row anyway.”
He gives me a cocky look and I watch, flabbergasted, as he effortlessly clears the table of solids, leaving the eight ball perfectly lined up with the corner pocket. He deliberately sets his pool cue down and perches on the edge of the bar stool.
“Come here.” The command does strange things to my insides as arousal shoots straight to my core. Oh yeah, he’s exactly my type. I take a step toward him.
With one hand on my hip, he draws me closer until I’m wedged between his legs. “I saved the eight ball for you so I can admire your ass when you bend over and put it in,” he says huskily. “Now kiss me.”
I lean in to kiss him and he meets me halfway, his hands on both sides of my face. If anything, this kiss is even more sensual than the last, gentle yet insistent, and full of promise. Our tongues move together, tasting and exploring, until I finally pull away, breathless. I’m sure the desire and need I see in his eyes are reflected in mine.
“Go sink the eight ball so we can finish this,” he says hoarsely, and I know he’s not talking about the game.
This time there is no pretense, no denial or protestation. Tonight, he and I are as inevitable as the sun coming up in the morning.
I call the pocket, line up my shot, and sink the eight ball.
Chapter Three
“Are you sure you’re okay to get a cab?” I ask Olivia for the umpteenth time.
“I’m fine. Go wi
th Griffin.” She smiles an uncharacteristically shy smile at me and adds nonchalantly, “Jack said he could give me a ride to my car.”
I smile and hug her, and then Griffin’s hand is on the small of my back, guiding me through the bar as we make our way down the stairs, through the throng of people still gathered on the main floor, and out the big glass doors into the night. We walk hand in hand down the street to where Griffin’s car, a bright red classic Corvette, is parked. He opens the passenger door for me, waiting for me to get settled in the leather seat before closing the door. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, I’m suddenly tongue-tied. Completely at ease and oblivious to my sudden attack of nerves, he smoothly shifts the car into gear and merges into traffic.
“I don’t go home with guys from bars,” I blurt out.
He glances over at me. “Do you want me to take you home?”
There is no judgment or anger in his eyes, just naked desire. I know the feeling. I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
“No,” I exhale. “I really don’t.”
“Good,” he says with the hint of a smile as he looks over at me, his gaze lingering on my lips before traveling down to the expanse of my thighs revealed by my short dress. Reaching across the seat, he places his right hand just above my knee, sliding it upward possessively until it’s resting on my upper thigh. I feel my breath catch at the thrill of his warm, firm touch on my heated flesh. Yes, I definitely want more.
Although it’s a short drive to his place, it feels like a lifetime. We’re barely inside the door before he’s pressing me against the wall, his muscled arms on either side of me, caging me as his mouth possesses mine. My fingers tangle in his hair as I meet his searing kiss with all of the want and need that has been building up in me all night. His kiss is just aggressive enough to turn me on. I’m a sucker for a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it, and despite his easy-going manner, there’s an edge to Griffin—a tightly controlled steeliness—that I find incredibly attractive.