Then I see him. Up on the second floor, leaning over the railing that looks over the main dance floor. Even in the dark, in the crowd, amid the sensory overload of the lights and sounds and movement, those eyes are unmistakable—and they’re staring back at me above an entertained smile. He notices me noticing him and raises his glass, but I don’t do anything in return, just spin back and continue dancing.
Except his eyes are still on me, and I can feel them. Keenly studying every sway of my hips, every arch of my back. If he thinks he’s just going to stand there and watch me all night long with that lusty gaze, I’ll give him something fierce to look at. I glance every once in a while in his direction through narrowed eyes, giving him a glimpse of my half smile before turning away again. Cole’s not the only one noticing me, and soon I find myself with a hot guy right in front of me, his eyes undressing me, his hands on my hips, mine on his shoulders, except it’s not him I really want, and it’s not his eyes that are making me move like this, because however hot he is, Cole is still the hottest guy in this club. I glance up at him every so often, over the guy’s shoulder, wondering if he’s getting jealous. Until eventually I look and he’s not there anymore.
Exhausted, my mouth dry, and wondering if Cole is still around, I make for the steps leading up to the second floor bar, where I hope to get something cold to drink. Somehow, as I move up the stairs, the sound of the music seems to lessen, fading from the soul-shaking boom it was on the dance floor to a background rhythm that I can actually hear the people on the second floor talking over.
I move toward the bar, gliding on the exultation of physical activity, when the sound of my name draws my attention to the side.
“Willow.” I look in the direction of the deep, commanding voice, and see Cole stalking toward me like he’s finally cornered his prey. “Looks like you worked up quite a sweat down there,” he says, eyes roving across my skin.
“I figured I deserved to let things go a little,” I say, nonchalantly. Two can play this game.
He leans closer. “You drinking tonight?”
“No. I’m too thirsty for alcohol.”
Cole lifts the bottle of water he’s holding in his hand.
“I figured,” he says, offering it.
I smile and take it, cracking open the sealed top and tipping my head back to gulp the coolness from the icy bottle, feeling his eyes upon me once again.
“Thanks,” I say, gasping a little from the water’s freshness. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
Cole laughs easily.
“Same thing as you, I presume.”
I grin and shake my head. “Unless you were dragged here by your well-meaning roommate, I doubt it.”
“Well…something like that. I know Jax Wilder.”
He looks at me for a second until I realize he expects me to know who that is.
“He designed the place,” Cole adds, when he notices my blank expression. “Wow, you really are new in town, aren’t you?”
“People keep telling me that,” I say. “This is a nice place, though.”
“Yeah,” Cole says, looking around appreciatively. “The acoustics are excellent.”
I laugh.
“What’s funny?” Cole asks.
“Nothing,” I say, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear and feeling a new surge of heat through my body. This time it’s not the music, but the way he smiles at me. It’s so easy to remember why we did what we did on that desk when he smiles like that… “You like the acoustics, huh? Well, I haven’t seen you dance tonight.”
He steps a little closer, though I can hear him perfectly, and in a low voice, says, “All you gotta do is ask.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, stepping closer to him now.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low, but his mouth so close to my face I can hear the rumble in it. “How could I say no to you?”
I could blame a lot of things for what happens next. I could blame the darkness of the club, dark enough to feel like I can do whatever I want. I could blame the thump of the bass still moving through my blood, making my body come alive and bringing my urges to the surface. I could blame the sense of liberation I’m feeling, after dancing so many of my worries away. But when Cole is looking like that, his shirt tight enough to hint at the muscles beneath, his face as perfect and as mesmerizing as a gallery’s main event and his eyes blazing into mine, who could blame me?
I put my hands on his chest and push him back through the crowd, against a wall, where only the faintest of moving lights traces the perfect lines of his jaw. Then I lean into him, pressing my breasts against his hard torso, and push my hungry lips onto his, our tongues thrashing as we devour each other’s mouths. He pulls me closer, hands roving down the small of my back, searching for the gap under my blouse where he can put his rough hands against my skin.
“You look good enough to eat,” he growls, kissing a line down the soft skin of my neck until I can’t help but moan.
My fingers lacing into his hair, I pull his face up to mine again, urging us to fall deeper into each other, my body melting against his, our clothes an inconvenience now, an obstruction. His fingers rove lower, grabbing handfuls of my ass as his hardness grinds against my hip. I rub against him on purpose, eliciting a deep groan that gives me chills, widening my stance as his hand reaches up my skirt. His strong fingers glide up my inner thigh to stroke at the hot damp spot I can feel soaking through my panties. The sound of the music and the crowd fall far away, irrelevant against the sound of our hurried gasps and desperate groans in this dark, private corner. My body pulsates and throbs, aching for more of him, yearning to tear off his shirt and put skin against skin, to feel the deep pounding of that powerful cock once again.
I break away from his lips to look around us, then push him further aside into a corner so dark even the roaming strobe lights can’t find us, where I guide myself by the texture of his expensive clothes and sculpted body. My hands find his fly and zip it down while he growls into my neck. The moment I pull at the fabric his thick cock emerges, already engorged enough to fill my palms. Cole reacts to my touch by heaving that broad chest in a cut-off sigh, grabbing at my waist and pulling me to him impatiently, so that when I slide down he feels the curves of my body against the throbbing stiffness of his.
“Fuck,” he murmurs between the thump of the drums, his hand caressing the top of my head as I take his cock in both hands. I can’t believe I’m really doing this right now, right here in public, but more than that, I can’t believe how much I want to. As dark as if I were blindfolded, I guide myself by touch, thick shaft between my fingertips, then palms, then lips. Tongue mapping its hot, veiny skin, rolling up and down that incredible length, his palm now fisting in my hair as he drives himself further into the back of my hungry mouth.