Page 77 of The Temptation of Truth
The music changes, something sexy and slow, and then her smirk returns, softer this time. Tentative. Shy. My stomach clenches and aches. Something stirs low inside me, and I suck my lower lip between my teeth. She steps toward me, and my breath comes more rapidly. Every inhale makes my chest tight, pressing my breasts uncomfortably against the bodice of my dress. She takes the empty cocktail glass from my grip and hands it to someone beside her. A security guard. I hadn’t even noticed him. I open my mouth to say thank you, but she moves her hand to my waist, and all words die on my tongue.
She leans in, putting her mouth to my ear, and I’m entrenched in gardenia and pear. Something sweeter. Brown sugar, maybe? I want to fill my lungs with the scent of her. My head tilts on its own, my nose brushing her hair, her skin, and I inhale.
“Dance, Roar.”
Her voice tickles the shell of my ear, and my exhale trembles when she squeezes my waist. Gently, she urges me to move with her, so I do. She’s a snake charmer, and my body mimics hers on impulse. Oninstinct, despite having never danced like this before. Not with someone like her.
Mabel leans back and locks her gaze with mine, but something has changed in her eyes. There’s an intensity, a heat, that I don’t recognize. I don’t understand it, but I crave it. She smirks, then brings her lips back to my ear, this time erasing more of the distance between us. I can feel her body heat kissing my skin.
“There we go,” she purrs. “Just like that. Just move with me. Let go.”
Chill bumps coat my skin as her breath skates over my neck. I close my eyes and let my fingers trail down her arm. Energy dances over me from the contact, shooting up to my shoulders, then down my spine. My hand splays on her rib cage, my thumb and forefinger resting on the rough sequined fabric of her top while the rest press into her warm exposed torso, and it’s all I can do not to pull her closer. It’s all I can do to remember to breathe, let alone dance. Let alone stay upright.
The bass from the music pulsates up through my ballet flats. The DJ’s lights paint the backs of my eyelids in vibrant colors. One drink, just one, but I feel like I’m floating. Drunk on this moment. On the scent of her. On the closeness. A buzzing hum ofmore, more, morethrums in my veins, and a need for something I don’t understand drives my every decision.
Slowly, I lean forward and press my forehead against hers. I almost whimper when her hand wraps around the back of my neck, holding me to her. In my head, I picture her lips. I lick my own, threading my arms around her waist. She’s soft and warm and smooth. I want to run my hands over her. I want her hands on me. I want, I don’t even know.Everything.
I want everything.
Then the music changes, and she releases me.
Cool air hits my chest, and my eyes fly open so fast that I flinch. Mabel’s laughter mingles with the song, and I blink several times to bring the scene before me into focus.
She’s still here. She’s still dancing with one hand on my waist. She’s still just inches away. But now, her other hand is wrapped around someone else’s neck. Someone who is pressed up behind her with his large hand spread wide across the bare skin of her abdomen. I stare at that hand, at the way he flexes his long, thick fingers into her skin. The way the tips slip just slightly into the band of her skirt. If she’s wearing underwear, I bet he can feel them. If she’s not wearing underwear...
I force my attention to the ground, landing right on their feet. Mabel’s stilettos look so small bracketed by this stranger’s giant shoes. It’s a strange, unexpected punch to the stomach.
I take a step back, out of Mabel’s reach, and her eyes meet mine when her hand falls away from me. Her smile falters, but before she can ask, I hook my thumb toward the bar.
“Gonna get another drink,” I shout over the music. “You want anything?”
She shakes her head, concern lingering behind her smile. “I’m good.”
I nod and turn away without saying anything else.
At the bar, the guy asks for my ID. I try to remember the name of the cocktail the bartender upstairs made for me, but when I can’t, I order a vodka soda and tell him to put it onStephanie Lynn’s tab. I take one sip and regret the drink, but I squeeze the lime garnish into the glass and pretend that I like it. Then, because I can still see Mabel dancing with that giant man twice her size, I weave my way through the bodies and head back upstairs.
“How was it?” Claire grins at me from her place at a tall pub table with Sav.
“How was what?”
“Your first clubbing experience. You weren’t down there very long.”
I flare my eyes. She must have heard me tell Callie I’d never been out dancing. That or Callie told her. It doesn’t matter. I take a drink and shrug.
“It was fine. Sweaty. I don’t think I missed out on much in college.”
Sav laughs. “I’m not much of a fan, but Callie and Mabel will shut the place down if we let them.”
“Those two love to dance,” Claire adds.
I force a small laugh and let my eyes trail back toward the dance floor. Back to Mabel.
“I can see that.”
I wasn’t kidding when I said I could pick her out of any crowd. Even now, in the dim light of this club, with a hundred people dancing on the floor below me, I find her easily. I wish I hadn’t.
She’s still dancing with that guy. And while Callie is there, too, dancing and laughing alongside them, I can’t stop looking at the guy. At every place his body touches Mabel’s. His hands are all over her. His attention is only for her. She’s eating it up.
