“No. Just no.” Blane shook his head at Mo.
Demetri, the most enormous of them all, growled his agreement. “Definitely no.”
“I hear you!” Mo held his hands up in the air and backed off. “Look, I’m behaving.”
I turned to look at Blane, and he mouthed later. I guessed he meant there was a story there.
“So these are the guys—Alex, D, Mo—and I hear you met Ashton,” Blane muttered, pointing at each as he said their name.
I recognized them all from my season of clandestine basketball watching. Now I was in the middle of their party, all of them gathered around my less-than-perfect body and chatting me up as if I were a good friend.
This was not my life.
“Now if y’all will move along.” Blane took my hand and led the way until we settled near the far side of the dance floor.
We’d never collected our Phish tickets, and I’d ignored every text from Sonny. I forced myself not to think of my internship or Stanwick. Apparently, I didn’t want little things like my job or my major to get in the way of my new groupie status. In the span of a mere forty-eight hours, I’d apparently lost all direction in my life.
“Take it easy, man,” Blane said to a freshman rookie, a tall, lanky black guy getting hammered on Crown Royal. “We have another game on Tuesday. I know you think you’re not playing, but you never know.”
When “The Freaks Come out at Night” rocked the speakers, Blane grabbed my hips and jostled me around playfully. Then he snatched my Diet Coke and tossed it in the garbage before dragging me out to the makeshift dance floor.
As he slowly ground against me, I squeezed my legs together, trying to dispel the tingles forming at the juncture of my thighs. Seriously, I was going to get pregnant from him this close to me, shaking his hips. When he lifted his arms, his shirt rose enough to expose the V formed by perfectly toned stomach muscles.
I ducked my head and stared at my boots, hiding my smile, and checked to make sure there were no wet spots on my pants—and not from peeing.
Blane lifted my chin with his finger, and I had to tilt my head all the way for my gaze to meet with his eyes. At best, the top of my head was even with his chest.
Let’s dance, he mouthed.
“Now you ask? After you already pulled me out here?” I stood on my tiptoes so I could reach his ear.
He snatched me up close and lifted me even with his face.
“Put me down!”
“Admit you can dance. You’re part Cuban, right? So, show me some moves,” he said as he slid me down his body, back to the floor.
Looking up at him, I knew I had to keep my feet on the floor, my heart in check, and my head in the real world, not in this fantasy I was building. But I could do that in a few minutes.
For now, I pushed my hands into my hair and lifted it off my neck, trying to flip it seductively like I saw once on TV. Then I shook my ass and let it all go, closing my eyes and pretending I was standing on my bed, all by myself with no one watching.
The freaks do come out at night.
After a few more songs, Blane led me back to his apartment. It was only a few doors down the hall, but it wasn’t close enough. My heart beat a rapid pace, and the very tips of my fingers and toes tingled. I was a lovesick schoolgirl when it came to the Stealer, and at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He’d stolen me.
“It will be quiet in here,” he mumbled as he squeezed my hand.
That’s what I’m scared of.
I didn’t mention that, though.
When we entered the darkened hallway of his apartment, he flicked on the light near the kitchen. Soft light flooded the common area, and I made out an obscenely large television and a bunch of gaming consoles and controllers.
“Do you want something?”
I shook my head, my feet practically planted in the cheap linoleum.
“Come here.” He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. “You good? I don’t want you to second-guess this.” He ran his hand up and down my back, his palm so warm it almost singed my skin through my shirt and camisole.
“I’m okay.” The words floated from my lips on a whisper.
He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine, his hardness pressing into my abdomen. I opened my mouth to protest—my abs weren’t firm and I didn’t want him to notice—but I couldn’t get a word out. When my lips parted, Blane took that as an invitation for his tongue to enter my mouth. He swept along my lower lip and sought the roof of my mouth, enticing my tongue to come out and play.
The smallest moan started in my chest and rose all the way up to mingle with our kiss. Blane tightened the hand on my back in response, bringing me closer as his other hand pushed into my hair, gathering it and pulling it behind my neck.