We’ve spent the last hour and a half occupying the casino floor with a flamboyant flair. Much to Sammy’s dismay, Colton decided that he wanted to play some Craps. After some initial losing, Colton ended up at a table surrounded by a crowd as he rolled again and again to their cheers of encouragement and the benefit of his wallet.
His adrenaline is still amped up, and I can feel it vibrating off of him as our car pulls along a back entrance of the Palms Casino a little after midnight. We’ve all had a lot to drink and I’m more than ready to release some energy on the dance floor.
“Now the fun really begins, ladies!” he exclaims before tipping back the rest of his drink and grabbing my hand.
We exit the car and are whisked via a side door through the hotel and into a back entrance to the nightclub, Rain. The energetic beat of the song Animal fills the club and reverberates through my body. An employee leads us up a stairway and moves a velvet rope with a sign that notes reserved so we can pass into the VIP area.
Such an odd feeling to be treated as the only patrons in a club filled with hundreds of other people just feet away.
We’re led onto the mezzanine level, and when we enter, a roar of cheers startles me. Colton doesn’t seem surprised, and I realize that the thirty plus people in front of me are who Colton’s been coordinating all night long. He is suddenly pulled into the crowd of people, collecting pats on the back from the guys and overly long hugs from the women.
I step back, allowing him to have the attention of his friends and look at our surroundings. I count six rooms on this level that overlook the dance floor and it seems as if Colton has rented them all out for the night. I step toward the railing and watch the mass of people below gyrate and move with the pulse of the music.
“You doing okay?”
I look over at Haddie, relieved to have her here, and smile. “Yes. It’s just all a bit more than I’m used to.”
“I guess he’s a little over the top, huh?”
“Just a tad.” I laugh. “So, Beckett?” I ask, arching my eyebrows.
“He is hella cute...” she shrugs “...but you know how that goes.” She laughs in her typical carefree Haddie way. If she wants, she’ll have him eating out of her hand by the night’s end. That’s just Haddie. “You wanna dance?”
I look for Colton to tell him that we’re going down to the floor, but he’s in the middle of a wildly animated conversation. He’ll figure it out. Within moments we’ve made our way downstairs, and have worked ourselves into the crowd moving on the floor. It feels so good to let go and move with the beat, to get lost for a moment and forget the anniversary that started the minute the clock passed midnight.
After a couple of songs, I look up toward the balcony above us to see Colton standing at the railing. He searches the crowd and it takes a few moments before he finds me. I have a déjà vu moment when our eyes lock—a different club this time but the same intense heat between us. His face falls into shadow momentarily, and I can’t help but remember wondering on our first date if he was an angel fighting through the darkness or a devil breaking into the light. Right now, looking up and completely consumed by him, he is most definitely my struggling angel. And yet I know the devil in him is always just beneath the surface.
I continue moving despite our irrefutable connection—the one that stops my breath and kick starts my heart every time he looks at me. I smile and motion for him to come down. He just shakes his head in a measured acceptance of whatever it is that he’s thinking and smiles before disappearing from sight.
The song changes and I hear the opening notes to Usher’s Scream. I throw my arms up and swivel my hips to the beat, letting the music wash over me. I sing my favorite line. “Got no drink in my hand but I’m wasted, getting drunk on the thought of you naked.” I snap my eyes open on the last word when I feel hands slide around my waist from behind and pull me backwards. Haddie’s smile tells me that it’s Colton, and I relax against him as I see Beckett and a few more of his friends from upstairs join us.
The soft curves of my body fit against the hard edges of his, and I close my eyes as we start to move together. Every movement against each other has my skin prickling and my insides igniting. Each nerve in my body is attuned to the feel of him against me. His strong hands map the lines of my torso: urging, grabbing, enticing. His hips move with mine, the ridge of his erection tempting me with each movement. We mimic each other in unfulfilled need, in mounting desire.
He turns me around to face him, the demand of his hands forcing me to do what he wants arouses me further. It evokes images of his skillful fingers running the length of my sex before parting me and slipping into me. I groan at the thought and somehow he hears me despite the music because the sexy smirk on his face and darkening eyes tell me he feels the same. I know he wants more than just this frustrating but sensual as hell petting with our clothes on.