Page 5 of Crossing the Line
Who’s That Guy?
Paisley Grove
No, Hercules isn’t watching me. He’s leering at me while Lauren stands next to him with her lips near his ear. It doesn’t look as if he’s paying attention to whatever she’s saying. He’s zeroed in on me.
My body responds to our eye contact as I succumb to the sexual trance that his staring puts me in. I’m combing my fingers through my hair as I swivel my hips seductively, picturing myself on Hercules’s cock as he bites his bottom lip. That’s when I realize that he’s chewing on his lip too. I should look away from him, but I can’t. I should release my lower lip, but I can’t do that either. It’s something I do when I’m turned on. His stare turns me on.
When Lauren slaps him on the shoulder, it’s as if she’s nudging me out of my lustful daze too. Inhaling sharply, I turn away from the couple.What just happened?And what does Lake mean by their relationship being complicated?
I want to implore Lake to please tell me everything she knows about Hercules and Lauren, but her serious cousin Amy—who’s definitely not having as much fun as the rest of us—is whispering in her ear. After rolling her eyes, Lake spins away from me and follows Amy away from the dance floor. I’m starting to think that Lake and her cousin aren’t cut from the same cloth.
I find that I prefer dancing to sitting, since the exercise gives me something to do. Fortunately, a guy slides over to dance with me. Shifting my feet from side to side, I tilt my head, recognizing him as the guy who sat next to me at the table when I chose to be a wallflower.
He leans in, guiding his mouth toward my ear. I incline forward to hear him.
“So, you do dance,” he says.
I toss my head back and laugh. I’m tempted to search for Hercules to see how his conversation with Lauren is progressing, but I keep my attention glued to my new dance partner’s face. He’s cute. If Hercules wasn’t in the vicinity, I would be thrilled that this sexy stranger had chosen to pursue me.
The guy bends toward me again, and his warm minty breath drifts across my face when he says, “I’m Clive.”
I move closer so he can hear me over the music. “I’m Paisley.” Not only does Clive’s breath smell delicious, but so does the rest of him. His cologne is citrusy with hints of sandalwood and vanilla.
Inclining my ear more toward Clive to hear him better as he tells me how good of a dancer I am, I catch a glimpse of Hercules. Arms crossed and stance wide, Hercules glares at us like he hates the world. I quickly look away from him, choosing to do the wise thing by pinning my attention back on Clive, who I suspect is single and a man whose family isn’t feuding with mine.
Good choice, Paisley.
He’s a good choice.
* * *
While dancing,Clive often leans in to ask me loads of questions. He likes being close. Although I’ve decided to forget Hercules, I can feel his eyes on us. It has taken a lot of willpower not to test my supposition and turn to see if I’m right.
“What do you do on the weekends?” Clive asks, his breath once again warming my ear.
“Not much. Work.”
“That’s no fun,” he remarks.
There’s no need to tell him that I’m the poster child forno fun.
He asks me something else. With each question, he gets closer and closer. When he steps back to shuffle from side to side, I take a good look at him. Clive is classically handsome. His hair is dark and has a windswept appearance like Hercules’s. His chin is square, and he has sexy dimples that are more pronounced when he smiles, also like Hercules. But Hercules is an inch or two taller than Clive. Essentially, if it were just his looks that drew me so strongly to Hercules, then Clive and I could skip off into the sunset. But it’s not his looks that attract me. It’s his essence. It’s everything he exudes. I can’t believe I ran into him tonight. Seeing him makes everything I ever felt for him come back stronger than when we were kids. I thought over time those feelings were supposed to diminish. Apparently, not in my case.
The song ends just as Clive says, “We should go out sometime. I’d like to get to know you better.”
Hot and sweating from dancing, I fan myself with my hand. I decide that I’m not in the market for a new boyfriend simply because it’s going to take at least a week or two or three to reset after seeing Hercules. So I put my hand on Clive’s hard chest. Mouth near his earlobe, I say, “Thanks for the dance.”
He gently takes me by the elbow. “Are you coming back?”
I force a smile. It would be easy to lie. But I’ve been taught to tell the rot-gut truth, even when the answer could shatter someone’s heart.
“No,” I say. “But again, thank you.”
Clive looks shocked. I can tell he’s one of those guys who isn’t used to being turned down. I wish I could give him my number to put him out of his misery, but the last thing I want is to be pestered by a guy I’m just not that into. So I press my lips into a conciliatory smile, put my head down, and walk away from him.
Amy’s voice blares through the speakers as I slip past partygoers focused on her. She’s repeating the date, time, and address of the first rehearsal dinner before everyone gets too drunk to remember.
I keep my eyes on the floor as Amy makes an offhand comment about how the open bar was a bad idea and if Lake had known anything about these sorts of parties, she would have toned down the night’s activities.
