Penelope, who I elbowed when he showed up, studies him over my shoulder. She recognizes him too. “Ah, Blaze. He’s not the same, you know. I mean, I see him smiling, but Ryker says he’s moody.” She frowns and looks back at me. “I feel like we haven’t talked much. Are you doing okay?”
I toss back my drink. “I will be as soon as I get another one of these in me.” It has been difficult sitting next to him in class. How am I going to be able to finish the semester?
Her eyes take in my face. “You aren’t seeing anyone. You won’t even entertain the idea of me setting you up. There’s a cute guy in one of my classes. I think you’d like—”
I stop her with a pointed look. “I have a date coming up. I’m fine.” I consider telling her about Mike, but I don’t. The truth is, I’m not looking forward to it.
She sighs, clinking her glass with mine. “Fine, I’ll shut up. I’ve missed this with you.”
“Well, good thing Ryker wanted to study.”
She blushes. “He’ll see me later at the house.”
I exhale. Of course. Glad I got earplugs.
We order another round, and I’m acutely aware that Blaze hasn’t moved from a spot near the fridge. I refuse to look at him head-on, in case I’m not incognito enough for him. I keep facing the bar, but my ears strain to hear him talking.
And why? Hasn’t he made it plain he doesn’t want me anymore?
FTS.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I say, and we head that way.
The basement is dark and we take the steps carefully, passing people with different styles of masks. I take in every person, and it’s easy to recognize a few. Dillon, shaved head and all, is on the dance floor with a girl in his arms. I recognize some Thetas and keep my head down. You can’t go to school here and be Greek and not know other Greeks, but with my pink hair covered, I’m feeling confident, especially when we breeze past the Theta president and she doesn’t give us a second look.
Margo drifts away to check out the back sitting area where a group of Thetas are talking—eavesdropping, probably. Penelope darts to the restroom, and I lean against the wall and watch the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.
A few minutes later, a tall guy appears in front of me. Broad and muscular, he’s dressed in a black long-sleeved fisherman-style sweater. His mask fits smaller on his face, plain and simple.
My heart dips as I take in the way his free hand taps his leg.
I’d know him anywhere.
He could be in a football stadium with no number on his jersey, and I’d be able to point him out.
Being nonchalant, I move to walk around him, but there’s nowhere to go. People block me at every point.
“Hey there, great party.” He sips on his beer, eyes on my face. “Think I’ll stand here a sec and let the place clear out. You mind?”
“Sure. Great party!” I squeak. Crap. It sounds like I’ve been sucking helium. I clear my throat and try to ease the tension in my shoulders.
He’s right here in front of me and he looks…sexy as fuck. His hair is swept back, and my eyes graze over him, lingering on that spot of bare skin I see around his wrist, how the dark hair curls, how strong his fingers look as he holds the cup and takes a sip of his drink. All it takes is a wrist and fingers and I’m hot and bothered. SMN. Shoot me now.
“This your first party of the semester?” he asks me.
“Yeah, freshman here,” I say, smiling as I throw some Southern in my voice. At least it’s not squeaky.
His lips kick up. “Nice. Me too, go figure. You look familiar. Have we met?”
I shake my head no.
“Really? Huh. Guess not.” He glances around at the people milling past us, and I wait with bated breath to see if anyone recognizes him, but it seems we’re blending in for the moment.
Someone pushes against him from behind, and he’s jostled forward. He bumps into me, his chest pressing into mine before he steps back. I inhale his scent and it washes over me, making me shiver.
His hand takes my arm when I lose my footing. “Did I step on your toes? I’m sorry. These parties are ridiculous.”
We look down at my newly painted red toes. He did give me a good crunch, but I mumble a no.
“Let me see.” He bends down to take a look at my feet, and my breath hitches.
“I’m fine,” I say, still overdoing the accent, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
He comes back up slowly, his eyes tracing my curves, lingering on my breasts before rising to my face. He stays there a long time, looking at me over the rim of his Solo cup. “Hmmmm. Nice shoes, by the way.”
“Why did you come if you thought it would be ridiculous?” I ask, surprised at the question coming from me. I shouldn’t invite conversation. I should get my ass out of here, but it’s him, and my body has other ideas. I want to draw this moment out, talk to him and pretend we don’t have a past. I really do, so much.
He huffs out a laugh and leans in. The music has gotten louder, and the only way to talk is to stand close. “Thought it might be fun if no one recognized me. Plus, there’s this girl. Thought she might show up.”
“Did she?”
He lowers his gaze on me in the dark room, searching my face. His lips curve up. “I don’t see her yet.”
Ah. I swallow. “Maybe any girl would do. No need to wait for just one.”
“Hmmm, you think? I really want to get to know her better. Crazy, right?”
“What makes her special?”
“She’s hot. Like fucking amazing.”
“There’s a plethora of those around.” I wave my hand at the darkened room.
He laughs. “Who says words like ‘plethora’?”
“Smart girls.”
“This girl…she’s smart. Smarter than me. She’ll be somebody cool someday.”
“Good. You should lock that down.”
His eyes flicker with a penetrating look as he reaches out and touches the corner of my mask. I stand immobile, letting him trace the outline. “Thought about it. Wasn’t worth the pain.”
Wasn’t worth the pain.
He drops his hand when Penelope shows back up, looking harried. She comes to a halt in front of me, does a double take at Blaze, then leans over and whispers, “Came out of the restroom with Margo waving at me. She’s cornered. Theta inquisition time. You good if I dash over and help then come right back?” Her eyes sweep from me to him. “I can’t leave her. You know how she mouths off when it comes to them, and we don’t need a war with these girls.”
I send her a pleading look—to not leave me or leave me, I don’t know—then she pivots and quick-steps it away from us.
“She ran off fast. She seemed super familiar too,” he muses, smiling.
“She’s a freshman. I doubt you know her. She doesn’t get out much. Neither of us do.”
“Ah, I see. You gonna leave too?” he says.
“No.”
He mulls that over. “Thought you might.”
“Well, I’m not.”
It feels as if our words are layered with more meaning, but I brush them off.
The DJ switches to a faster song and a strobe light kicks around the space, flashing over his face before bouncing off. It’s a funhouse on steroids, and the buzz from the tequila warms my blood.
People squeeze by us, and he maneuvers closer to me, pressing a hand on the wall behind me to keep a few inches between us. Shit.
He stares down at me, and I avoid his gaze.
“Man, this place is nuts,” he murmurs in my ear. “It’s better upstairs. You want to go?”
I lick my lips. “What about this girl? Are you like, in love with her?”
My breath holds tight in my chest, and I don’t move a muscle as we stare at each other.
“I don’t know what love is, actually.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, straightening and pulling away. “Do you?”
“I think it’s when you can’t think of a person without aching to see them.”
/> “I see.”
I nod. “The person you love can hurt you, though. You have to be careful.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be careful anymore. Sometimes you just have to let go, right?”
“Maybe.”
He leans in closer, and my body trembles.
He looks down at me and whispers in my ear, his lips barely touching the top. “I don’t want to be careful tonight, babe. Are you with me?”
Several seconds pass as neither of us speaks.
I should walk away. I really, really should.
He gestures to the drink I’m holding at my side. “You gonna drink that or just stare down at it all night?”
“Why do you care?” I laugh, looking up at him, my mind circling back to his comment about love.
He doesn’t know what it is.
How is that possible? Hasn’t he ever been in love? He wasn’t with me, but surely at some point…
He touches a piece of my hair from my ponytail. “I want to dance. Finish it. Let’s see how good a dancer you are, freshman.”
I drink it down. “I have skills that will blow your mind.”
“Oh, I bet you do. ” He takes the cup from me, his fingers touching mine, and puts it on the floor next to my feet along with his own.
The music changes to a slower one, “I Hate U, I Love U” by Gnash, the lyrics low and sad, a dichotomy of opposing emotions mixed together.
Frowning, I pull back. “No. Maybe another song.”
“This one,” he insists. “I like it. It reminds me of someone…” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to think about her. Come on.”
But…
I’ve listened to this song on repeat for hours, and I…can’t. I cried my eyes out over the lyrics in my bed. I don’t want to go back to three months ago.
But there’s a determined set to his face, and when he says come on again in a teasing way and gives me that smile I can’t resist, I take his hand. He leads me out to the dance floor, his broad shoulders maneuvering through the crowd. He places us in the center of the room.
We don’t move for a second, both of us unsure. There’s a hesitant look in his eyes as he watches me, a reserve, as if he’s not certain what to do next, and for a second I think he’s changed his mind and might walk away.
He doesn’t. His arms curl around my waist slowly, slowly as he takes his time, savoring every slide of his hands as he palms the curve of my hips then moves them to rest at the top of my ass. He inches me forward in my heels, pulling us close. Butterflies flutter when his gaze warms, a slow, almost knowing smile on his lips until we’re aligned, our legs brushing.
I start slow, my hands on his chest, trying to keep a small bit of distance between us, but I’m into it. The speakers blare, the lyrics and piano from the song throbbing in the air. It wraps around us, settling inside me, beating. My hands curl up around his neck.
We’ve danced before, but this is different. New.
He doesn’t know me.
We have no past.
Who would he be with a new girl?
How would he woo her?
His head dips and his breath skates across the skin exposed on my neck. “You smell fucking good,” he whispers. I barely hear him over the music, but I can’t hide my shudder when his nose glides up toward my ear.
He leans back to stare at me, and even though it’s dark out here, I see his eyes glow, low and heavy, a question there.
I press my nose to his chest.
“Shy?” he says. “I can’t imagine it.”
“Sometimes,” I murmur back in his ear, my hand brushing at the hair there.
His finger tilts my head up. “Me too.”
I didn’t know that.
“It’s hard for me to say how I feel sometimes,” he adds.
“Well, you seem to be doing great right now.”
“It’s the mask. I can pretend.”
Swallowing, I take in his angular face, the way his eyes glint—his lips. They’re pouty and full, like two fluffy pillows, and I can’t stop studying the way they curve.
“You feel like heaven,” he says on a little groan, and his hands are lower, splaying out across my ass.
“Same,” I reply breathlessly, melting into his body.
God, I’ve missed this. The feel of him under me, the way his hands know just how to hold me and make me feel safe…
We’re swaying, and I feel light.
The song ends, blending into a faster one, but neither of us lets go. Bodies gyrate and twirl nearby, bumping into us. We don’t waver an inch. He shields me, his muscular frame our protection as he wards off random people who veer too close. Nothing could get between us. His hips brush against me, friction sweet and sharp between my legs.
The bass from the speakers booms underneath my skin, as if it’s in tune with the rush of blood that’s coming from my heart. My fingers dig into his shoulders. I can get lost in this for a little—
“Mmmm,” he says, and his thigh moves and slips between my legs. I close my eyes and clutch his nape. “Take your mask off and tell me your name, little freshman,” he murmurs.
My head rises and our eyes lock.
“This is a masquerade—no.”
His tongue darts out and he licks that bottom lip, painstakingly slow. “Chicken.”
“Am not.” I take a breath, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, but I say it anyway. “Everything else is yours.”
He pauses, his head down and close to mine. “Everything?” Wariness crosses his face, a ghost of pain flashing before disappearing.
I nod.
He slips his hand around to my ponytail and pulls until my hair spills out and flows down my back. His hand slips underneath and palms my scalp. He kisses the sensitive area below my ear, his tongue stroking the surface. “Is this mine?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He sucks on my skin, and I hold his head, pressing him closer. His thigh slips between my legs again, seesawing back and forth.
We’re not dancing anymore, and maybe we haven’t been for a while, but it’s dark and no one is noticing. A couple next to us kisses, their hands roaming over each other. A quick glance tells me everyone is either lost in their partner, the music, or the free alcohol.
“This?” His hand massages my ass then moves up my body, his palm following my curves. He presses me against his cock through his jeans.
“Yes,” I mumble, my senses are overloaded with his touch.
“This?” He brushes his thumb against my vest where my piercing is.
“Yes,” I hiss.
He leans down to place a kiss on my neck, his lips taking and taking, sucking, getting harder, probably leaving a mark. I lean into it, writhing, clenching around his leg.
My lips part, a tidal wave of sensation pooling, drenching my panties. Music and people surround us, and I can’t tell where I am anymore.
“I’m gonna make you forget you ever had a name,” he says, staring down at me.
“Try.”
He puts his hand between our bodies, cups me through my leggings, and then presses down with his heel on the top of my cleft.
My lashes flutter, and I can’t breathe, pulsing against him. My leg hitches around his thigh, rubbing like a cat.
More, more, my eyes say before I lean my head on his chest, wanting to hide, afraid he’ll see the power he has.
“Look at me.”
I raise my gaze.
His eyes are brilliant, bright and gleaming as he takes me in, molten with need. His expression is searching, as if he’s waiting for something, needing something from me.
“Is this mine?” His hand strokes down, rubbing my mound, but not enough—not nearly enough.
“Yes,” I moan.
“Thank fuck.” He slips his hand inside my leggings and past my panties, a lone finger inside me, dipping and exploring the folds, the already wet skin. My head falls back.
His cock strains out, bulging against his jeans as he applies that tort
uous pressure with his palm, rotating against me then sliding back inside my panties, two fingers this time, taking the cream and massaging me. He circles me, playing, teasing. He tightens his arm around my waist when I feel like I might fall.
He never lets me look away, and I can’t anyway, caught up in the way he’s losing himself too. Sharp need etches his face, his jawline drawn with desire and lust and need.
Does he still think about us…
“All the fucking time.” I think he says, but it’s loud and I didn’t speak. Did I?
One song glides right into another as his fingers slide in and out.
My chest rises up and down. My hands tug on his nape, pulling up close until I can see the flecks of white in his ice-blue eyes.
Smoldering eyes land on my mouth, his breath warm and smelling of beer as he puts his forehead against mine. “Come while I’m watching you, baby.”
His tongue licks at my lips, just barely a touch as I go over the edge, my heart and body crashing into tingles and vibrations that shake my body. I close my eyes and pulse around his fingers, stars detonating behind my lids.
God. This, him, him. How I’ve missed his touch, craved it.
“Just like that,” he says, not letting up, and I move, riding him, getting every bit of that nirvana, every single ounce of that gaze on me.
He…he stares at me like I’m a girl he wants to worship.
Another song comes on as I come back to myself, woozy and warm and still turned on.
His breathing is labored, and my hand reaches out to palm him through his jeans, wanting him to receive what I did—
He eases us apart and holds me a few feet away as we stare at each other.
My hand cups his cheek, and I’m past reason when I nod my head toward the corner under the stairs, to the lower exit that will get us out of here.
He shakes his head, his lips parted as he pushes up on his mask until it sits on the top of his forehead, tangling with the longer hair there. Bright and glassy-eyed, he looks at me.
I’m frozen in place when he touches my mask and pushes it up off my face.
“Hey,” he says softly.
I can’t speak. He’s beautiful, so much that I ache.
“Didn’t fool you, did I?” I say.
“Knew the moment you walked in. Always do.” He touches my cheek and lets his hand fall. He sticks his hands in his jeans and looks away from me. “Was starting to think you…forgot what we had, Charm. It was always hot with us—was all I thought about for a long time.”
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