“Tonight, I don’t want to us to be Andie and Freddie.”
The tone of her voice plucked at my heart.
She pressed her lips against my neck and hid her face against the collar of my shirt.
I shook my head and cradled her against me. “We don’t have to be.”
And I meant it. We were alone in that corner with a black leather couch to make our own. No one noticed my hand sliding up her dress and no one glanced over when my fingers skimmed along her upper thigh, right past the silky material barring me from her. She pressed her lips against mine and dug her fingers into my arm. As I dragged my thumb across her clit, her moan was so soft I could hardly hear it. I wanted to reach up and rip the speaker off the wall, anything to make the sound of her pleasure easier to hear.
Maybe it was the masks or maybe it was Rio. There was something in the air, the promise of pleasure that made it impossible to stop.
“You’re the one I want. You,” I whispered to her, airing the truth, even though it meant we’d both be hurt when reality found us again.
Her mouth pressed against mine and I tried to contain her, to keep her there on the couch. Every time I brushed my thumb across her, her hips lifted to meet me. She was soft and beautiful and wet. I held her down, hiding her from the dark club as I slid a finger in and out of her. Even if someone did look over, they’d see nothing but our legs tangled together. It was the best I could do. There was no stopping myself. She knew I was a greedy bastard; there was no point in trying to convince her otherwise—not when she pulled my bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard enough to make my blood burn.
“I want to come,” she begged.
I kept one hand between her thighs and palmed her breasts through her thin cotton dress. Her nipples were pebbled, begging to be licked. She filled my hand and then some, so full and sexy I wanted to throw caution to the wind, push her back onto the couch, and lap her up until I’d tasted every delicious inch of her. She was so bloody beautiful, pressed against the couch with red, swollen lips. It wasn’t enough though; I wanted to see all of her. I needed to feel the silky skin beneath her dress.
I needed her dress gone.
I needed my mouth on her skin. Her stomach. Her thighs.
I needed to bury myself inside of her until her back arched and her toes curled.
But the words came.
Of course they came.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
She whispered against my skin and still, I tried to pretend I hadn’t heard her. I wanted to keep her caged there and swirl my thumb over her clit until I felt her come. I wanted to see it and hear it and then see it and hear it again. Over and over and over.
But she pulled away. I straightened my mask and her fingers pressed against her lips, feeling them as if she was in shock at the fact that they were still a part of her. They weren’t, not really. They were mine. I pulled her hand away and stole one last kiss to prove it.
I couldn’t get any words out of her as we stood up and straightened our clothes. She grabbed her purse and I downed my drink in one long pass, using the burn of the alcohol to bring me back to my senses.
“Are you all right?” I asked as we headed back down to the second floor.
She nodded and offered me a tight smile.
We were nearly down the flight of stairs when I reached for her hand and pulled her back to look at me. Her mask was concealing so much of her face, but I could see the worry in her eyes. She wasn’t sure what would happen next—neither of us were—so I pulled her close and hugged her, whispering the only truth I knew.
“I promise, I’ll figure this out.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Andie
I STARED INTO the mirror and tried to find something different about my appearance. I could have sworn something was off, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. My hair, eyes, face—everything looked the same. Even my lips had gone back to normal. I’d lathered them in Chapstick after I got home in an effort to try and erase every detail of the club. It’d been idiotic, wild, and reckless. I’d wanted to taste madness and I had. It tasted like a hot British swimmer who was currently off the fucking market.
God, I’m stupid.
“Andie!”
Kinsley’s voice boomed through the condo. She and Becca had been asleep by the time I’d returned from the club, but now everyone was awake and running late for breakfast. I turned and tried to find something to wear. My dress from the night before was crumbled on the floor, but the mask was gone. I’d ripped it off before leaving the club. With it in place, I’d felt like I could hardly breathe.
“Andie!” Kinsley shouted again. “Are you coming?”
“Yes!” I reached for one of our team t-shirts, shorts, and a baseball cap.
I pulled the brim down low so I could hide my eyes and walked out to find Kinsley and Becca waiting by the door, ready to leave. They watched me in silence as I slung my workout bag over my shoulder and prepared my water bottle for practice. The bus would pick us up right after breakfast, so I wouldn’t have time to come back up to the condo.
“You look guilty,” Kinsley said as she held the door open for me.
Becca nodded. “Yeah, what did you do last night?”
I shrugged and made for the elevator. “Michelle and I went to a club.”
They glanced at each other as I pressed the elevator call button.
“And?” Kinsley asked.
“And nothing.” I glanced back at them. “What did you do last night?”