Page 22 of Blind Bite
I watched as a smirk curled his lips. “The idea of finding something that lasts.” There was weight to his words I couldn’t quite decipher.
The conversation flowed effortlessly. Jamie had stories about everywhere—Paris in the rain, Tokyo at night, Rio during Carnival. He spoke like someone who had lived several lifetimes.
“Dance with me,” he said as the music shifted to something slower, more sensual.
“I’m not much of a dancer.” A menagerie of memories of all the times Amelie had brought me out to the dance floor just for me to pretend like I knew what I was doing flooded my mind. I kept my moves simple, feigning to drunkenness if I felt like I was making a fool of myself. No one batted an eye at a drunk white girl at the club.
“Everyone’s a dancer with the right partner.” He extended his hand.
Against my better judgement, I took it.
The dance floor was a press of bodies, but Jamie carved out space just for us. His hands found my waist, cool through the thin fabric of my dress.
“Relax,” he murmured against my ear, “feel the beat of the music.”
My body melted against his, our movements synced to the hypnotic beat. He guided me with the calm confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. We moved like we’d danced together a thousand times before.
“You’re a natural,” he whispered, his breath tickling my neck.
The music intensified, and so did our dance. My back pressed against his chest, his hands splayed across my hips. The room seemed to fade away until there was nothing but Jamie, the music, and the heat building between us.
I turned to face him, our bodies still moving in perfect rhythm. His glacial eyes had darkened, hunger evident in their depths. They reminded me of photos I’ve seen of the arctic ocean. Dark blues swirled with hints of ice, something I was sure to drown in. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
The tension between us was unbearable—a live wire threatening to spark at any moment.
Jamie’s hand cupped my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured.
“Me?” I laughed breathlessly. “I’m the least dangerous person here.”
“You have no idea.” His gaze dropped to my mouth.
The song changed, the beat more insistent, but we barely noticed. We were locked in our own world, pressed together, each breath synchronized.
Without warning, Jamie took my hand. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere private.”
He led me off the dance floor, through a hidden door at the back of the club. My heart hammered against my ribs, equal parts excitement and apprehension flooding my system.
Whatever was happening between us, I knew with absolute certainty that after tonight, nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Sixteen
Jamie’s grip on my hand was firm as he led me down a dimly lit hallway. The music from the club became muffled, replaced by the thundering of my own heartbeat in my ears.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“My office.” He glanced back, that devastating smirk playing on his lips. “Unless you’d rather give the patrons a show?”
I shook my head. The thought had a slight shiver run through my body. As thrilling as it sounded, showing all of my bits to a club full of strangers wasn’t what I had in mind for the night.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, the walls painted a deep burgundy that absorbed what little light existed. Framed vintage photographs lined the corridor—snapshots of the club throughout different eras.
“Some of these look ancient,” I murmured, slowing to examine one. Leaning closer, I could almost see something etched on a wooden sign by the door. It was old and weathered, but I could make out a couple of curves...
“History is important,” Jamie replied, tugging me gently forward. “Even in places designed for forgetting.”
