Page 5 of Committed to You

He opens the door to the car and motions me in.

“Hey, Jamison.”

“Hey, Vivian. Good to see you.” Jamison leans over and kisses me on my cheek. It’s a nice, friendly gesture and feels nothing like the kiss Chase planted there.

Chase gets in and sits next to me, so I once again am flooded with his smell, body heat, and the buzz of his energy.

Our next stop is at Quinn’s, but she is waiting in the lobby and falls into Jamison’s embrace within seconds.

Quinn claims that they are just friends, just like I claim there is only a friendship with Chase and nothing more, but we both know better. Why she tries to deny it to Piper and Charlotte, I’m not sure, but she constantly does. It doesn’t take long before she and Jamison are lip-locked on the sidewalk.

“Maybe we should take a lesson from them.” Chase wiggles his brow, leaning close to my face.

I push him away and nervously laugh. I’m relieved when Quinn and Jamison finally get in the car.

We spend a few hours at Noah and Piper’s, along with Xander and Charlotte, who everyone is surprised to see show up together before we head out to Club D.

The pairing of couples naturally takes place, and I try to remind myself Chase and I are only friends. This is not a date.

But everything feels like it.

His constant attention toward me.

His blue eyes, creating so much heat in my veins, I quiver inside.

Our natural chemistry, as much as I want to deny it.

Xander and Charlotte announce they are hitting the dance floor, and Chase pulls me up. “Let’s go.”

As the eight of us make our way downstairs, we fill the elevator. Chase pulls my body flush to his. I remind myself once more that this isn’t a date, but it would be helpful if he didn’t act like we were on one. His hand is around my waist, and I put mine on top of his, to remove it, but he flips his hand on top of mine, so I’m now trapped.

The elevator stops, and we get out of it. I’ve spent the ride trying to get my breathing to appear normal and stop my insides from pulsing. Everyone piles out and moves toward the dance floor, and Chase guides me there.

As we dance, our bodies grind against the other in a perfect rhythm.

The shot girl comes by several times, and, after a few, I forget I shouldn’t be rubbing all over him. Several men try to cut in, and each time, Chase pulls me to him and shakes his head at the guys.

The third time he does it, I yell in his ear, “Stop doing that.”

“You didn’t want to dance with him.”

“Maybe I did.”

“No, you didn’t. He can’t do what I can to you.”

It’s a cocky comment. One full of fire, and I should ignore or deny it. But instead I ask, “What’s that?”

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me off the dance floor and into the elevator. It’s crowded. I’m smashed against his hard body at the back of the elevator while his thumb strokes my slit over my dress, and I tremble.

I check out the elevator, but no one is paying attention to us. Chase’s warm breath is against my ear. “I think it’s time we stop playing this game, don’t you?”

Game? I’m not playing a game. I will not be one of his girls.

He continues stroking me, and his other hand slips to my side. Nimble fingers graze my thigh, sending currents through me. When he nibbles my ear, my desire for him plows through any conviction I have left to fight him.

The elevator opens, and, in one swift move, he leads me to the VIP room, which is unoccupied. He shuts the door, sits down, and pulls me on his lap.

“Let’s try something.”

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