by L. S. Pullen
Tonight, I just want to forget about Shaun. Pretend I didn’t try and change to please him and his fucking ego. Be free and unapologetically me. And if one thing can help me forget, it’s dancing. I sway, slowing and pulling my hair off the back of my neck and locating my hairband on my wrist, ready to tie it up when sweaty hands grip my waist.
I tense, dropping my hair and try to step forward, but the fingers tighten, one hand moving around to the front of my stomach. Spinning to face whoever it is, I find a guy smirking. He continues inching toward me, closing the gap between us. I try to back away but bump into someone behind me and receive an elbow in my back as a reward.
The guy invades my personal space, which I appreciate is easy to do when the dance floor is oozing with people. Trapped within the wall of bodies, I shake my head and mouth the word ‘no.’ His response is to offer up a sleazy smile that makes my skin crawl. I’m ready to physically push my way past people to get away from him when another pair of hands rest on my hips gently.
“There you are,” a deep baritone voice says in my ear, causing my body to prickle.
I move slightly and look up into the same brown eyes that caught my attention for a fleeting moment back at the bar. The stranger leans in and plants a soft kiss on my temple, before turning his attention to the handsy guy in front of me, eyebrow raised.
“I suggest you leave my girl alone,” he says loud enough for the guy to hear.
Sleazy guy’s lips turn down into a scowl before he mutters something under his breath and slinks away back into the crowd.
The stranger lets go as I face him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, making it appear a little wild before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. His broad shoulders are relaxed, and I don’t have to see what is under his shirt to know this man is ripped. A smile graces his tanned, handsome face, highlighting one very cute and prominent dimple.
I move closer to speak in his ear. “Umm, I guess I should thank you.” And I’m hit with a warm aromatic scent.
He leans down enough for me to feel his soft breath on my neck before he replies. “I noticed his attention was unwanted. I apologise for kissing you,” he says, stepping back a fraction.
I tuck my sweaty strands of hair behind my ear, not even sure how to respond; maybe chivalry isn’t dead?
“Can I buy you a drink as a thank you?” I ask, hoping like hell he says yes.
His lips curve ever so slightly, and he shrugs. “Okay, why not.”
I weave through the dancers, heading to the bar. Whilst peering over my shoulder to make sure he’s following, I stumble over someone else’s foot. His hands go to my hips, holding me upright, and he doesn’t let go until we reach the bar.
“Back already?” Vi says, noticing the hot as hell stranger beside me.
“Just buying this guy a drink,” I reply nonchalantly. “What are you having?” I ask him and watch as he props an elbow on the bar.
“Ladies choice,” he says.
Vi laughs loudly and points to him. “I like this one,” she says, giving me a wink. I want to roll my eyes but refrain.
“Sambuca,” I say, and Vi nods, filling four shot glasses with the white spirit. I’m not a big drinker and avoid dark spirits. For some reason, I always end up sick on those.
She slides two to me and two to my hot saviour.
He flicks his eyes to mine, and I shrug. Fucking Violet.
I raise one of the glasses, and he does the same.
“Cheers,” we say in unison, and each down the liquorice flavoured shot.
I shudder whilst he smacks his lips together, and I find myself having to refrain from wiping a tiny drop on his upper lip when his tongue sweeps over it.
He pulls his wallet from his pocket, but I cover his hand with mine and shake my head.
“No, it’s already on my tab,” I say.
I left my clutch behind the bar with Vi and had her just run a tab on my card. It’s easier that way––not that I drink much.
I pass him the second shot and we down them just as quickly. Vi hands us both a bottle of water, and I step up on the foot rail and lean over the bar, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll see you later,” I say, and she nods, already serving other punters.
I unscrew the lid and down half the contents before I notice my dark, mysterious stranger watching me with a look I can’t quite decipher. It causes me to swallow hard.
“Don’t suppose you want to dance?” he asks, surprising me.
“Actually, I’d love that,” I reply honestly.
Without another word, he sets his untouched bottle of water beside mine. He takes my hand and weaves us back through the sea of bodies and onto the dance floor.
I let out a small gasp when he pulls me to his body and begins to move to the beat, and damn if he doesn’t have rhythm. I get lost in the music as we move together. Feeling myself relax, I turn my back to him and sway my hips. I close my eyes; this guy is solid muscle, and damn if the way he looks at me doesn’t make me want to melt into a puddle right in the middle of the dance floor. My body is more reactive to this man I’ve only just met than it was with my own boyfriend. Again, red flag––if sex is a chore, then something is seriously lacking.
His hands reach around my waist, pulling me closer, and his lips skim my ear.
“Is this okay?” he asks me loudly, so I’m able to hear him over the music.
I nod. The fact he asked for my consent to touch me whilst dancing gives me butterflies. Most men wouldn’t think twice about using it as an excuse to feel you up. Something is exhilarating about this entire scenario.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his lips so close to the soft spot just below my ear. I break out in a wave of goosebumps.
“Charlotte,” I reply, peering up into his eyes. Maybe it’s the light, but I swear they’re smouldering with desire.
“Beautiful.”
I clear my throat. “And you are?” I ask, my voice coming out a little huskier than I expect.
“Ethan.” His mouth turns into a devilish smile, and it’s hard not to notice his full, kissable lips––ones I feel an overwhelming urge to taste.
Chapter Four
Ethan
It's hot and crowded, but being so close to this woman is mesmerising, and I'm grateful I've only had the two shots with her because this isn't an encounter I want to forget anytime soon. The way she moves, the fresh scent of berries as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, exposing the column of her throat, is mesmerising. The beads of sweat between her shoulder blades, where her thin top sticks to her flesh, is intoxicating.
I pull my groin back, breaking contact with her body. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable with my body's reaction to her. I'm not some creep, but I also can't ignore the mixture of sensations currently fighting for my attention. My fingers trail down her arms to her hands, and she links her fingers with mine, pulling me closer. I sincerely hope she can't feel my boner straining in my jeans.
We continue to dance, and it's as though there's an invisible ward around us, a bubble keeping everything else out but the two of us. It doesn't last. Some guy wobbles, falling over himself with his entire glass of beer splashing down his hand and arm, and before I can swing Charlotte out of the way, the glass slips from his grip. Its contents splash down her front, and I manage to spin her just as the glass shatters on the ground.
I move us away from the carnage.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my eyes roaming over her chest.
She's laughing so hard, and it's infectious. I laugh too.
"Shit, I'm drenched," she says as she tries to pry the sodden material away from her boobs.
I realise the top she's wearing is now very see-through. She holds her arm over her chest, her cheeks even redder than they were mere seconds ago.
Glancing around me, others have paused, trying to cop an eyeful, and without thinking, I unbutton my shirt and pull it off.
"Here," I say, and s
hove it into her hand, but her eyes are focused on my bare chest, and now I wonder if she thinks that was just a move to half strip in front of her.
She clears her throat. "Shit, give me two minutes," she says, spinning on her heels as she rushes off.
I stand there with my hands stuffed into my pockets when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to find a bouncer in front of me.
"Sorry, mate, you can't be in here without a shirt."
Staring down at myself, I nod. "Yeah, shit, I'm sorry, the woman I was with just got soaked in beer, so I gave it to her. I'm just waiting for her to come back."
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, man, but you'll have to wait outside."
It seems ridiculous. They have a dress code, they wouldn't have let me in otherwise, but I also don't see the point in giving the guy a hard time. He's just doing his job.
I nod and quickly look to see if Charlotte is coming back before I make my way outside.
Thankfully, it's a warm night, but my nipples still pucker as the light breeze hits my bare chest. Leaning against the wall, I flick my wrist to check the time when wolf whistles––followed by cackles of laughter––come from a group of women wearing hen party sashes head my way.
"Hey, Magic Mike," says a woman wearing a penis lolly necklace.
"Ohh, are you a stripper?" another one asks, and I want the ground to swallow me whole.
This is awkward.
I shake my head. "Nope, sorry, ladies," I reply, holding my hands up.
Another pushes to the front, her friend stumbling as she brushes past her.
"Shit, aren't you an MMA fighter?" she asks.
Again, I shake my head. "Not anymore, but I used to be." I try to ignore the old ache that surfaces when I think of my short fighting career.
"Oh, you're the twin. The one who got injured," she says.
Internally, I cringe. It's not something I want to discuss with a group of intoxicated women. Especially standing outside of a bar… shirtless.
"Hey, do you mind if we get a photo with you?" she asks, and I nod—anything to move off the topic of conversation.
Holding the phone out on a selfie stick, they all crowd me.
When they're happy with the number of photos taken, a few head to the club's entrance. Unfortunately, the one who called me out as an MMA fighter stays back.
"I'm sorry about what happened to you. It wasn't right," she says, squeezing my bicep, her eyes roaming over my chest, and I have to fight the urge to cover myself. Instead, I clear my throat and take a step back and out of her reach.
"There you are."
I let out a sigh of relief and glance over the top of the woman's head to see Charlotte walking towards us.
"Sorry, I got kicked out. Dress code," I say, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
I can't help but check her out. She's tied my shirt into a knot at her waist, the sleeves rolled up, the first couple of buttons undone, and fuck me if it doesn't enhance her breasts perfectly.
She waves the clutch she now has in her hand towards me.
"Yeah, I thought as much."
Walking right up to me, the other woman long forgotten, she chews on her bottom lip, and I can't help but watch as her teeth dip into the plump flesh.
"Do you need me to call you a cab home?" I ask, even though I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
A soft breeze blows a few strands of her hair, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch it.
"I'm not far, fancy walking with me?" she asks.
I cock an eyebrow. "Do you normally walk on your own with strangers?"
She laughs, the sound soft and feminine, and I wish I could bottle it for a rainy day. She shakes her head. "No, and no. But I figure a guy who would save me from roaming hands and one who protects my modesty most likely isn't a psycho. Besides, I can change and give you your top back. It's not far, and I wouldn't want you being accosted on your way home. You saved me, now let me save you," she says.
And it's my turn to laugh.
She grabs my hand and links our fingers together.
"Come on," she says, tugging me as she checks both ways before stepping out into the road to cross to the other side.
"Do you live far from here?" she asks, her hand still in mine as we walk, the streetlights highlighting the path.
"About a twenty-five minute drive," I reply. "My cousin wanted to check the club, but something came up and he had to leave."
"And yet you stayed?" she quizzes.
"Yeah, someone caught my eye," I reply.
I feel her fingers loosen, but I squeeze, tightening my hold.
"It was you. You caught my eye," I say, making it clear.
Her lips curve into a smile, and I wonder if she thinks this is all just a cheesy pickup line, but if she does, she doesn't counter my comment. Instead, we start talking about random things as we walk hand in hand, something I am more than comfortable doing. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.
Chapter Five
Charlotte
This is totally out of character for me, but there’s something about him I trust, and I can’t even pinpoint it. Never would I walk alone with a guy I don’t know. When I grabbed my clutch, I told Vi I was going to see if I could find him, and she told me to text her the word ‘flamingo’ when I got home so she’d know I was safe.
“This is me,” I say, coming to a stop at the small set of steps outside our flat.
“Huh, you really don’t live far.” The rich baritone of his words does wicked things to my lady parts; I can’t remember the last man who had that effect on me, ever.
“Yeah, I live with my housemate, so if anything happens to me, she’ll make sure your mug shot from CCTV is all over the internet.”
“Duly noted. But I promise you’re safe with me,” he says, doing a halo sign over the top of his head, and fuck me if I don’t believe him.
I start up the couple of the steps that lead to the communal front door and pull out my keys before turning back to him.
“Listen, I’ll be honest, I just came out of a relationship,” I blurt out, but omit the fact it was, in fact, earlier this evening. What am I even doing right now?
“Yeah, I feel you. I’m trying to get over someone.” He shrugs. “And for what it’s worth, whoever he was clearly didn’t deserve you,” he says, moving onto the steps so we’re eye level.
“Thank you,” I reply softly. It annoys me more than anything, knowing how much time I spent trying to please Shaun––to pacify him.
Ethan’s eyes are probing, and I swear I could get lost in those honey-brown orbs.
“Yeah, I know that feeling well,” he says, and it’s hard to ignore the note of sadness in his usually overwise jovial voice.
I turn away and unlock the main door, which leads to a corridor, and I ascend the stairs. There’s no sound from him following, so I peer back over my shoulder.
“Do you want to come up for a cup of tea, and I can change out of your top?”
He smiles and closes the main door behind him without a word as I unlock my front door. As he climbs the stairs, I enter the alarm code.
I turn back and kick off my wedges as Ethan steps through the threshold. His heavy-set build takes up the small hallway. Our flat might be small and modest, but it works. Gazing over his tanned bare chest, I can’t help but appreciate how well defined he is. Never have I seen abs like these in the flesh, leading down to the most powerful Adonis belt. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed. I’m reminded of his touch as we danced. It was innocent but full of so much promise. His eyes blaze a trail over the length of my body. Warmth infuses me straight to my core.
He takes a step towards me but not before reaching behind him and swinging the door shut. I move closer, an invisible link drawing us together until we’re practically toe to toe, chest to chest. I’m not a short girl by any means––I’m about five-six––but he still has a good couple of inches on me, easily six feet, so I need to lean back to
look up at his face.
His breathing becomes deeper, matching my own as he lowers his head, his lips hovering a beat before his mouth crashes against mine.
“I don’t normally do this,” I whisper against his mouth right before I open up to him.
“Me either.” He groans, and damn if it doesn’t elicit a wave of excitement to my nether regions.
Suddenly, he hoists me up, his hands gripping my arse as he walks me back against the wall, and I wrap my legs around him, linking my ankles behind his back. I note that his scent is warm and earthy, ultra-smooth and sophisticated as I breathe him in.
“Oh my God,” I say on a sigh when I feel his arousal press at my centre.
He kisses the length of my throat and then trails a path back to my ear.
I grind into him, and he pauses. “Maybe I should go?” he says, and I tense.
“If that’s what you want.”
He groans. “Oh, I want this, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
I let out a chuckle. “You’re not. I’m giving you the green light.”
He pulls back, studying my face. “How much have you had to drink?” he asks, and something softens deep in my chest.
“Just the two shots with you,” I reply. “What about you? How much have you had to drink?”
He laughs. “Two shots, same as you,” he replies.
I lick my lips, his eyes following the movement. “And am I taking advantage of you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. His lips curve into a smile as he thrusts into my centre.
“Hardly.”
I’m done talking. “Well then, what are you waiting for?”
A growl escapes him, and his lips crash against mine. Once again, it’s demanding and ravenous.
“Bedroom?”
“Third door on the right,” I say before my mouth closes around the soft patch of skin on his throat. He tastes like sweet salt and sin.
He pushes into my room, and I reach out my palm on the wall for the light switch before he gently lowers me to my feet. Looking past me to my bed, he takes my hands in his and walks backwards, eyes on me until his calves meet the mattress and he sits down.