The Destiny of Violet & Luke (The Coincidence, #3)

“So are you going to stare at me all day?” she asks, biting on her thumbnail, scanning the crowd instead of me. “Or actually dance with me?”


I rip my gaze from her tits and focus on her eyes. “I thought you were joking about that.” I scroll over her body, taking my leisurely time, enjoying her slender frame. “You don’t really seem like the dancing type and plus you shouldn’t really be dancing on that ankle.”

“I can dance, swollen ankle or not,” she says neutrally, finally looking at me and again I’m taken back by how detached she looks. “But you don’t have to. I was just giving you an easy out from Bust-a-Move over there as a thank-you for helping my crippled ass around.”

“Who said I needed an out?” I question, concerned over the fact that I’ve actually missed bantering with her. “Maybe I was into Bust-a-Move.”

She holds up her hands and starts to back away from me. “Fine. I’ll let you be. I was just trying to do something nice, which I don’t do a lot.”

I let her take two more steps back before I reach out and wrap my fingers around her arm. She may be trying to pretend like she doesn’t give a shit, but I think she might. “I got nowhere else to be,” I say, pulling her toward me, figuring dancing with her might keep me distracted for a minute or two.

“Oh, lucky me. Luke Price wants to dance with me. Swoon.” She feigns a dreamy look, then tops it off with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that asked me to dance,” I remind her as she reaches me. I slide my hand from her arm to her side and then around to her back. Then I guide her even closer, until heat builds between our bodies. Good, fucking God. I nearly moan when I realize that her dress doesn’t have a back, at least from halfway up.

I casually slide my palm down her back, checking to see where the fabric starts. I seriously fucking lose it as I feel the softness of her flesh all the way to her waistline, where I finally touch fabric. I detect a slight shiver on her part, but her expression remains emotionless, her gaze locked on me as she places her hands on my shoulders.

We begin to move to the song together and I realize that she wasn’t lying about being able to dance. Her hips sway softly against the grip of my hands, the front of her body grazing against mine. Each time our chests brush together a small breathy noise escapes her lips and it’s sexy as hell and turning me on, my cock getting rock hard. Jesus, I’m going to lose it if I don’t calm down.

After half of the song plays, she leans in toward my ear and whispers, “So why are you here, Luke Price?”

“Luke Price?” I grip her hips tighter as I turn my head toward her. “What happened to Mr. Stoically Aloof?”

She shrugs, wetting her lips with her tongue as she traces her finger up and down the back of my neck. I wonder if she’s even aware that she’s doing it, but I’m definitely aware—too aware. “I thought I’d give the nickname a break tonight,” she says.

Our faces our inches apart and the heat of our breaths mix and make the already damp air even damper.

“Why are you here, Violet with no last name?” I maintain her gaze as I lean away just a little so I can get a better look at her.

The intensity in her expression mirrors my own and I wonder just how much I’m getting into just from dancing with her. She’s a challenge, secretive like myself, and that only makes me more curious. About her. About her secrets. About getting to know her. It gives her so much power over me, because I want to know her and she won’t let me. And I usually don’t want to know things about most people.

“For the awesome company, obviously,” she jokes and her lips quirk a little like she’s going to smile.

“Well, obviously.” I’m getting uncomfortable with the way my heart keeps speeding up every time she starts to smile and I’m debating on whether to leave or not. Yet at the same time I’m so turned on by the feel of her hips in my hands all I want to do is stay and keep touching her. My attraction to her ends up controlling me as my hand travels from her hips to her back and I press on the small of it, luring her even closer to me until her chest is pressing against mine. “How’s your foot?”

Biting her bottom lip, she glances down at her feet and I realize she’s not wearing shoes. “It’s doing okay, I guess.”

“Okay, so where are your shoes?”

She shrugs, returning her attention to me. “I had flip-flops on, but they were annoying me so I kicked them off somewhere.”

Through my irrational alcohol-filled mind I somehow rationalize thinking it’s okay to ask, “About the other night when you… you know, jumped out the window. What was that about?”

Her body goes rigid, but her expression is calm. “What was what about?”

I turn my head away from her gaze and stare out into the crowd. “Why’d you jump?”

“It’s a long story,” she says evenly and I feel her eyes on me. “Why are you asking?”

I meet her gaze again as the music switches to a more bumping song. I want to tell her the truth—that I’m worried about her. That I know the darker reasons of why someone would jump out a window. That even though I barely know her, I can’t stop thinking about her. That she’s controlling my thoughts way more than I’d like. But instead I say, “Just curious. It’s not every day a beautiful girl falls out the window and kicks me in the face.”

She doesn’t react, like she doesn’t even notice that I just complimented the crap out of her, at least in my book. “I got into a little bit of a mess. The only way to get out of it was to jump out the window,” she says indifferently.

A thousand questions tumble through my mind. “What kind of a mess?”

She chews on her bottom lip nervously and then sighs, annoyed. “Why do you care so much about this?”

I shake my head and shrug. “Because… I’m worried that… that you might have done it… on purpose.” I almost mumble the last part and I’m not sure if she heard me or not.

“Worried about me? Really?” She seems skeptical at the possibility.

“People worry about people all the time,” I say.

“No they don’t,” she insists and her eyes briefly flicker with anger. “And besides, you don’t even know me.”

“Well, this is me trying to get to know you.” What the hell is wrong with my drunken mouth tonight? It’s like it’s got a mind of its own. “Look, maybe—”

She covers my mouth with her hand and shakes her head. “No more questions, okay?” Without giving me time to answer, she spins around, turning her back to me. I think she’s going to leave, but instead she leans back against me, pressing her back into my chest.