“Want a sip?” I asked, holding my drink up to her.
She shook her head and took a pull of her own drink. It was after that, when she’d swallowed and worked up the confidence, that she turned to me with a question.
“Why are we doing this? We should go back down with the others.”
She sounded resolute in her decision and yet she didn’t move. I had my hand wrapped around her waist and I tugged her closer, pulling her into my side.
“Just a bit longer,” I said, studying her eyes behind her mask.
The entire time at the gym, I’d been wholesome and restrained. I’d helped her work out and I’d kept my distance as much as possible. It’d been painful at times, and I’d left feeling more frustrated than I had in years. I had contemplated staying home and letting Andie run off to the club by herself, but I wasn’t that selfless. I knew that the second she walked in, she would never make it back out alone. I should have let that happen. It might’ve made life easier on the both of us, and yet there I was, stealing her away to the third floor and dipping close to whisper against her hair.
I knew I’d done the right thing by showing up. I’d only been there for half an hour and I’d already seen the full effect of Andie in her red dress. The bartender had bobbled the bottle when he’d passed over my drink. Most blokes on the stairs had tripped as they watched her slide past. There was a guy, even then, who kept his eyes glued to her from across the room. He was leaning on the balcony railing, too far away for Andie to notice, but I did.
“I meant what I said earlier about you being territorial,” she said, turning to face me. I caught a whiff of her perfume and it was enough to distract me from the bloke leaning on the railing.
“I’ve actually never been that way,” I said, meeting her gaze behind her mask. “In the past, I mean.”
And that was the truth. In other relationships, there’d been no threats, no insecurity concerning the future, but Andie was a wildcard. We couldn’t make each other promises because there was nothing to promise. We had moments, tiny, stolen moments that felt wrong more than they felt right. She wasn’t mine and she never would be; I knew that and I felt that every time she was around me. That’s why I was territorial, but I was also careful, because Andie was a wisp of smoke; if I tried to grasp her too tightly, she would slip through my fingers. My only hope was to keep the fire burning.
“Do you miss your brother?” she asked, changing the subject so suddenly I had to take a moment to collect my thoughts.
“Do I miss him day to day?” I asked. “No.”
She tilted her head and waited for me to continue. I loved that she was willing to listen, but I hated that she was fixated on that topic.
I relented, staring off at a patch of leather sofa past her shoulder. “The worst part is, sometimes I want him to be alive again, not so that he can have his life back, but so that I can have mine.”
The words sounded twisted when said aloud; I hoped the music would make it impossible for her to hear them.
“You really don’t have to marry her,” she said, reaching out to touch my hand. I’d been fisting it in my lap without realizing it.
I shrugged. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Because I’ve tried to keep my distance from you and yet I’m sitting here, starting to have feelings for a man who is about to marry someone else. How is that possible? Why am I even here right now?”
I leaned forward and dropped my drink on the table in front of us.
“You’re here because I want you to be.”
She inhaled a shaky breath.
“Look up,” I said, tilting her chin back so that she was forced to see her reflection in the shattered glass. Like a good girl, she did, and I followed. She watched me in the mirror as I slid my hand up her thigh, pushing her red dress higher.
“Do you feel how fast your heart is racing? How badly you want me to lean in and drag my lips across your skin? Across this delicate patch of skin right here?”
I swept her hair aside and pressed my lips to her neck. She shivered against me but her eyes stayed locked on the ceiling.
I could see the outline of her breasts, heavy and bare beneath her dress. They’d fit perfectly in my hand, fill up my palm and then some. I pressed another kiss to her neck and her nipples pebbled, begging for my mouth.
She turned then, maybe to push me away or maybe to beg me closer, but I didn’t give her the chance to speak. I leaned forward and crashed my lips against hers, hungry with lust. I gripped her waist with one hand, and dragged my other hand up her neck, winding my fingers in her hair. She was shocked for that first second, frozen against me as her pulse beat a wild rhythm. Her hands pressed against my chest to keep me away, but in the end, they worked to pull me closer. She fisted my shirt and kissed me back, hard.
With her caged against the leather couch, I kissed her like I’d never have another chance. The music from the club drowned out our moans, but I could feel her pulling me closer, pushing me to take the lead. I dragged my hand up her bare back and she shivered against my touch.
She leaned against me and I felt another ounce of resolve melt away. I reached up to untie the black ribbon keeping her mask in place, but she pulled away and shook her head.
“Leave it on.”
There was a darkness in her that I didn’t want to test. I left her mask and trailed my hands down her back to grip her tiny waist. I waited for her to tell me to stop, to end the night right there. She skimmed her finger along my chin, studying my features. Her eyes followed her hand as it burned a path across my skin. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to my lips—a soft, tentative thing that was over before I could close my eyes.