Page 163 of Collide
Strobe lights carve the club into shards of color and smoke. Alex bonds with some of Andrew’s friends over a few sloppy lines of cocaine, clapping him on the shoulder, shouting something I can’t hear over the bass hammering through the floor. Who knew men were so simple?
We move like a current, tangled and messy—lips, hips, my knees buckling between the shots Philippa, Riley, and I slam back. It’s wild to see my sister like this, loose and laughing in a way I’ve never seen before, head tipped back, hair clinging to the sweat on her neck.
Somewhere in the haze, I feel him. Broderick.
Leaning in the shadows with a drink, jaw set tight, watching. Brooding.
I want to go to him. My body leans that way without thinking. But the pull of Alex is too magnetic, too intoxicating, dragging me back under the crush of bodies and bass.
The night unravels fast, slipping through my fingers in a blur of heat and sound, until someone yells for the limo and we spill into the street—a mess of limbs, laughter, lipstick smudged and shoes forgotten—bringing a whirlwind of chaos back to the pristine, proper gates of Montgomery Estate.
The debauchery of the rich and uninhibited.
We clamor through the front doors, the sound of cackling echoing off marble floors, kicking off heels, jackets dropping like breadcrumbs behind us.
Alex tugs my hand, pulling me up the stairs two at a time, his mouth finding the crook of my shoulder, careless and breathless. We tumble into my room, the door slamming shut behind us.
I lock it. Learning from past mistakes.
He presses me back against the wall, hands skating under the hem of my dress, mouth teasing mine with that crooked smile he knows makes me stupid.
“Do you want to fuck?” he murmurs, voice low and rough against my jaw.
It’s the first time he’s asked for it.
I let my head fall back, eyes fluttering shut. For a second, the wordyesburns the tip of my tongue. Not like this, not while Broderick still lingers in the quiet place of my mind, not while we’re both sloppy drunk and him high on cocaine.
“Not tonight,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair, tugging gently. “But…maybe we can do other things.”
His grin is slow, wolfish. “Other things,” he repeats, savoring it.
I nudge him back with a laugh, stumbling toward the bathroom, my dress sticking to my skin. “But first, I need to get cleaned up.”
Alex leans in the doorway, lazy and seductive. “Maybe we get cleaned up together,” he suggests.
The bathroom is all marble, lit by the soft spill of gold from the bedroom. I twist the taps, watching steam swell thick in the air, clinging to the mirrors, curling around the edges of the room.
Behind me, I hear Alex, the soft tug of his shirt slipping free. When I glance back, he’s standing bare, unapologetic.
My throat tightens.
I’d seen pieces of him before—him shirtless, his cock in my mouth earlier—but this…Seeing him completely is something else entirely.
He’s a marvel.
Alex steps closer, voice low and careful. “Can I undress you?”
I nod, my body already trembling before he even touches me.
“Elena,” he murmurs, a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, “you’re stunning. Don’t hide from me.”
He turns me by the hips until I’m facing the mirror. I catch sight of myself, a wild mess. My hair is no longer sleek, my ponytail looser. Eyes burning. Lips swollen from too many stolen kisses. I should feel embarrassed. Instead, I feelalive.
Slowly, agonizingly, he drags the zipper of my dress down, the sound of it splitting the air, thread by trembling thread.
His fingers brush the straps, grazing my skin, sending a violent shudder through me as he peels the tight fabric away from my shoulders. The dress puddles at my waist, the bra unclasped with a flick of his hand, falling away.
Cool air kisses my flushed skin, the contrast biting, making me arch back into him without thinking. He pulls the dress down further until I’m left standing there in nothing but a scrap of lace, breathing hard, every inch of me bare to him.
