As we walk to dinner, Alanna fills me in on the evening’s agenda. We are meeting up with her friend Trevor from work for a bite, then hitting up some club he managed to get us into.
When we arrive at the restaurant-an upscale locale aptly named Posh-Trevor is already waiting outside. He kisses both of us on the cheeks and showers us with compliments as we walk inside. He made reservations earlier, so we don’t have to wait long to be seated. By the time I finish my meal of seared chicken and asparagus, I’ve washed it down with three Vodka Cranberry Spritzers, and I’m feeling pretty good. Trevor is flirting with me and Alanna shamelessly, which he always does.
When we finally arrive at Club HQ, I feel a little uncomfortable with the line out the door. When I shoot Alanna a look of uncertainty, Trevor reassures me with a kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ve got the golden tickets!” he waves them in the air as the bouncer pulls back the velvet ropes, allowing us to walk right through.
Trevor escorts us to a white table in the back with a reserved sign. Within a minute of sitting down, a waitress appears in a form fitting white mini dress to take our drink order. I decide to stay with the Vodka and Cranberry Spritzers, even though I know I’m going to pay for it tomorrow morning.
When the waitress returns with our drinks several minutes later, her demeanor is noticeably chillier. She sets the drinks down on the table and pauses for a moment to give me the once over.
“Drinks are on the house,” she snaps, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sashays back across the room.
“What the hell crawled up her ass?” Alanna laughs.
Trevor leans in and pinches my cheek. “Don’t worry baby, she’s just jealous of this face. I mean God who wouldn’t be?”
We all bust up laughing and pick up our drinks for a toast.
Thirty minutes and three drinks later, I’m feeling relaxed and carefree as I agree to dance with Trevor and Alanna. I hate dancing because I’m not very good at it, but I’m also just drunk enough not to care. Trevor pulls both of us to the floor, dancing in time to the pulsing rhythm. I’m a little nervous at first, but after a few minutes my body is finding its own movements in response to the music.
Soon Alanna finds another male dance partner to grind on and it’s just me and Trevor. I feel completely uninhibited by the fact I don’t have to worry if he’s attracted to me or if I’m doing it right. My hands travel up and down my body as I dip and grind into Trevor behind me. My eyes are closed and all I can hear are the lyrics of Scream by Usher. I like this song. It makes me feel sexy and as though I have some semblance of knowledge to what I’m doing. Then I feel a warm hand grasp my shoulder from behind, and a deep familiar pull of a voice that stops me in my tracks.
“May I cut in?” his tone is stiff, and I get the impression he isn’t really asking so much as demanding.
I glance at Trevor in panic, but he just winks conspiratorially and sashays over to another single girl on the dance floor. I feel a lump in my throat as I gather the courage to turn and face my new dance partner. I don’t need to look to know who it is. I could pick that rich, sultry voice anywhere. But before I can turn around he leans closer, his breath hot in my ear.
“Victoria.”
“Gabriel.” I turn into him, peering up into his stormy blue eyes. How did he even find me here? Probably the same way he figured out where I worked. I don’t even want to know.
I’m surprised to see him in a black tee shirt and blue jeans, looking hot as hell.
“That dress…” His eyes rake me from head to toe. “My little gothic princess. I’d like to bend you over and fuck you in that dress.”
“Stalking me again?” I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out shaky.
“My father owns this club, Victoria. I came in to resolve an issue with the management, and low and behold, there you were.” He gestures in Trevor’s direction with annoyance. “Dancing with some other guy.”
I can’t help but laugh emphatically at his ridiculous statement. “Trevor is gay, Gabriel.”
He looks momentarily confused and then lets out a relieved sigh as he strokes my cheek with his thumb. I savor the warmth and gentleness of his touch, craving more.
“Well, that’s a relief.” His tone is harsh and accusatory. “Because I didn’t like it. At all.”
I open my eyes and pull his hand from my face. “You don’t own me, Gabriel. You barely know me. I can dance with whomever I feel like.”
He smiles down at me and places his hand on my neck, stroking the sensitive flesh. Desire pools deep within my belly, and it takes everything I have not to throw myself at him right now.
“You’re right,” he smirks at my willing response to his touch. “I don’t own you, but I would like to.”