“You don’t mean that, Penny. You don’t actually want me to stop.” He never breaks his intense stare, and it feels like everyone around us has faded to the shadows, like the spotlight of the night illuminates only us.
I shake my head and answer breathily, “No, I don’t mean that at all.”
His grip on my hip tightens, and he runs his thumb along my jawline. Inching closer, he angles his body to mine, his erection outlined deliciously against my jeans. “Gabriel,” I whisper in a thin groan.
“What is it, Penny?”
“I feel like we’re about to—”
A reverberation cuts through the packed club, and I snap my eyes toward the low stage. The singer clears his throat and speaks into the mic. “Hey there. Thanks for coming out tonight. We’ve got a new song we want to share with you, since you’ve been a great crowd. This one’s a little slower, though.”
As the guitarist plays the first chord, I tilt my face up to my date. “Dance with me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
We move a few feet to the crowded dance floor, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He loops his hands above my ass. Then he squeezes one cheek.
I gasp.
“And what was it you were about to say before? I feel like we’re about to…” he hints playfully as the singer launches into a ballad-y number.
I arch an eyebrow. “You know what I was going to say.”
He shakes his head as we sway. We’re so close, so connected. My bones vibrate with desire for him. “No, tell me.”
“It’s just that being with you like this feels almost indecent.”
He grinds his pelvis against mine, his thick cock so hard through his clothes. “Almost indecent?” he asks, arching his brow in a challenging stare. “Only almost?”
Heat races through me, rushing between my legs where I ache for him. “Fine,” I huff. “It’s indecent how hard you are and how wet I am,” I say, and his eyes widen, as if I’ve shocked him by being bold.
A growl seems to emanate from him as he eases in closer. “It’s indecent how much I want to fuck you right now,” he rasps.
And I go up in flames.
I love that he says fuck.
Because right now, that’s what I need.
We dance like that, pressed together, grinding, moving, rubbing, in the midst of all these other bodies. I’m keenly aware of all of him—the heat from his skin, the scratch of his stubble, the steely press of his erection. The complete and utter lust for me that’s identical to mine for him.
Sure, a decade has passed. Maybe we’ve both changed and grown. But some things remain the same. The chemistry that ignited us in Barcelona is even more powerful ten years later in New York.
“What’s really indecent, though, is how much I’m going to torment you,” he says with a fiery glint in his eyes.
“Why would you torture me?” With his hard-on rubbing against me in the middle of a goddamn club, I can’t think. I don’t want to think ever again. I want to feel everything with him.
He dips his mouth to my neck, dusting a kiss on the hollow of my throat that makes me squirm. Then he kisses his way up the column of my neck, and I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from this kind of adoration. Nor do I want to.
“Because,” he growls. “I want you to know that you’re worth waiting for.”
I tense as the full weight of his words settles on me. He wants to prove himself to me, which is a sentiment I love in theory. In practice, my body is shouting take me now.
“You’re terrible,” I say.
His eyes twinkle with mischief. “I know. But it won’t be terrible in a few minutes.”
Grabbing my hand, he tugs me off the dance floor and down the hallway. The music grows fainter as we round a corner, and he opens a restroom door. Once inside, I glance around. It’s a single cubicle, one of those club bathrooms designed for dirty deeds. Dark and sexy, with black tiles and blue lighting, it screams “fuck me now.”
He locks the door and pushes me to the wall, caging me in. I love his roughness. He was gentler in Barcelona. Now, the kid gloves are off. I’m not a virgin anymore, and I crave the manhandling from him.
One hand slides up my waist, over my breast, then behind my head, making me tremble as he moves along my body. He curls his palm around the back of my head, gripping my skull. “So, you’re indecent, Penny?” he asks as his other hand plays with the hem of my shirt. The tremble turns into a long, sustained shudder as his fingers brush under the fabric.
“So indecent,” I moan, jutting out my hips.
“Let’s see how much,” he says, running his finger over the button on my jeans.
I hitch a breath as his fingers play with me, as he toys with the button. My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest. Desire climbs up my legs, curling and twisting. It coils impossibly tighter as he slides open the zipper. God, I think I might come just from how he undresses me.
That’s a thought I shouldn’t keep to myself, so I say it aloud. “I think I might come from the way you undress me.”
He groans, and his lips curve into a wicked grin. “I’ve barely started.”
“Then please don’t stop.”
“Never,” he says, his voice rough and demanding, and I was right about his accent. It’s stronger in this moment, as if instinct shuts down rational thought. We are carnal creatures now, all heat and lust and craving.