Page 7 of Taylor
Taylor takes me to a club I never would have found by myself, and it’s just my kind of place—and that’s not just because it’s filled with hot men. It’s got this easy going, chilled out vibe going on. I can see myself spending a lot of time here from nowon.
“Come and dance with me?” Taylor asks for the thousandth time since we arrived. We’re on the top level of the club, looking down over the dance floor below. I’m kinda transfixed watching all the guys and girls below grinding against each other. It’s way more erotic that I thought it would be, which is exactly why I keep refusing to dance with him. I do not need his body rubbing up against mine. That, along with the shots we’ve had, will lead me down a road I don’t want to go down withhim.
He’s hot and seriously my type, there’s no denying that. And we click—we click in a way I’ve never experienced with another guy before. It makes me think stupid things, like he could be the one I’m lookingfor.
I won’t risk jumping into bed with him. I don’t want to fall back into my old life where my apartment may as well have a revolving door on it. I want more. I think about how happy my sister was in her relationship before it all went to shit. I want that. I want to know that I’m going home to someone who is waiting for me. Someone to watch old films with, to go out for meals with. I’m fed up of having to do all that stuff alone after whoever I might have just had a roll around in my bed with hasleft.
“For fuck’s sake,” Taylor declares before I feel him grab my hand and tug. There’s no point me fighting because he’s a lot bigger and stronger than me, so I allow myself to be pulled along behind him until we’re in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by hot, sweatybodies.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you think you’ll be able to say no this time?” he asks suggestively in my ear as he pulls me tohim.
“Uh…”
I allow myself to get carried away. The feel of his hard body up against mine pushes all my earlier thoughts out of my head and I move in time with him to the music. His hands roam all over me and after a while, I find mine are doing the same: discovering his body, learning that he’s a piece of artwork under his clothing. A piece of artwork I desperately want to appreciate with my eyes as well as myhands.
* * *
Iwakeup to the feeling of someone playing the drums against my skull. My mouth is dry and tastes disgusting, and my stomach feels a little delicate. I stay still for a while, trying to remember last night. The last thing I remember was dancing withTaylor.
Taylor!
I sit up way too fast for my hungover head to deal with and look at the other side of the bed. It’sempty.
Thankfuck.
I hear a snore and look up to see a body on the sofa. The sun from the small window at the other side of the room lights up his body, giving me an incredible sight to wake up to. He’s covered from the waist down in a blanket but his stomach and chest are all there for the taking. Every perfect tanned inch of skin, every line and indent all on display for my eyes tofollow.
“How’re youfeeling?”
I’m so lost in his body that his voice scares the shit out of me. I squeal like a little girl and jump up from the bed infright.
“Jesus, Taylor,” I say betweenpants.
“Sorry,” he says as he swings his legs off the side of the sofa and sits up. “How are you feeling? You were out ofit.”
“Rough. I don’t remember drinking that much though,” I say as I run through what I can remember of the night before in myhead.
“I didn’t think so either. You’re either an epic lightweight or your drink wasspiked.”
“How did we get back here?” I ask, hoping to fill in some of theblanks.
“Well, when you started to look a little worse for wear, I suggested leaving. You passed out in the taxi and I had to carry you uphere.”
“Then take my clothes off?” I ask, slightlyamused.
“It was a tough job but I thought it was for thebest.”
“Right,” I mutter as I begin to make my way to the bathroom in the hope of making myself feel a little morehuman.
When I return after having a shower, I feel a little more alive. I head straight for the kitchen to make some much neededcoffee.
“Coffee?”
“Sure.”
I look over my shoulder because the sound of his voice comes from a different place than thesofa.
“For fuck’s sake, Taylor,” I complain when I see him stood in the middle of the room stretching his arms over his head with a massive hard on tenting hisboxers.
