Page 19 of Reckless Hearts
Personally, I don’t have a problem with guys who want to hook up with me on the down-low. Guys who want to satisfy their curiosity before settling down with a girl pose the least risk of catching feelings. And having anyone catch feelings for me is the thing I want to avoid at all costs.
I give him a smoldering smirk. “Maybe you will have the magic touch. I guess it depends on how hard you wish.”
A quick one-and-done with Liam, blowing his mind, might be exactly what I need right now.
I haven’t hooked up with anyone since that night with Seb, which is a particularly long dry spell for me. I’ve occasionally thumbed through profiles on the apps, but every time I’ve gone to message someone, the memory of Seb kissing me with such intensity has slid back into my mind. I’ve been worriedthat messing around with another guy will be like eating a hamburger after steak, which will only leave me craving more steak.
And another helping of steak is definitely not good for me.
But Liam’s hot, and the allure of being the first guy he’s ever been with might be exactly what I need to get past this little roadblock in my sex life caused by memories of my best friend’s younger brother.
Liam’s about to reply when I feel a tug on my arm. It’s Saskia, her eyes sparkling.
“Stop hogging the birthday girl’s date,” she says to Liam as she tugs me toward the dancefloor. “Come on, Aladdin. Let’s show these people how it’s done.”
As we move through the crowd, I glance back at Liam, giving him a heated look loaded with meaning. If he’s up for it later, he knows where to find me.
And where to find me is at the center of the dancefloor. Saskia spins beneath my arm, her Jasmine costume shimmering under the flashing lights. Her hands slide down my bare chest, her fingers toying with the waistband of my pants. It’s a sexy tease, one we’ve perfected over countless nights out together. People around us whoop and holler, egging us on.
I’m drinking the dregs of the champagne straight from the bottle, letting the last few drops trickle onto my tongue. I don’t recognize the group of girls nearby with their eyes fixed on me, but I shoot them a wink, and they dissolve into fits of blushing.
Most people have used the fairy-tale theme as an excuse to dress as skimpily as possible. Little Red Riding Hood seems to have forgotten her skirt, her red cape barely skimming the tops of her thighs. Someone dressed as Cinderella seems to think the glass slippers are the most important part of the outfit. She’s traded in her ballgown for a tight sexy dress, while Rochelle is wearing only a seashell bra and a fish skirt as the Little Mermaid.
My skin is slick with sweat when I finally pull away from Saskia to head to the bar to get a drink.
I’m leaning against the bar, waiting for my drink, when I feel a prickling sensation on the back of my neck.
I turn slowly, my gaze sweeping the room, and that’s when I see someone standing at the edge of the dancefloor staring straight at me. He’s dressed in gray robes, a pointed hat perched atop his head.
I’m being watched by Gandalf the Grey.
It’s Seb.
Of course it’s Seb. Who else would go the opposite direction of everyone else’s skimpy costumes and swathe themselves in robes?
And it’s kind of cute that he heard the fairy-tale theme and thoughtLord of the Rings.
But I don’t like the pulse of affection that shoots through me. It’s not what I need right now.
Seb hesitantly walks toward me. But he only makes it a few feet before he stumbles on his long robes. He manages to catch himself before he falls, but his hat slips from his head, landing on the dancefloor.
He snatches it back up and staggers the remaining few steps to the bar, stopping next to me.
Underneath the beard, he’s got a full-on blush happening.
And fuck. The memory of his blush spreading down his chest, the feel of his lips under mine, is now back in my head.
I try to push the memory away, but it lingers stubbornly. Despite how much I’ve tried to forget, details of that night keep resurfacing.
Maybe it’s because everything about it was different from my usual hookups. There had been no game playing, no hidden agendas, no calculated moves or practiced lines. Instead, it had felt raw and real, just pure…connection.
And that’s exactly what made it so dangerous.
I don’t do real connections.
I can’t.
The heady pulse of the music now seems to be keeping time to the thumping of my heart.
