Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,20

through me, imagining him as the man I got paired with tonight. His head tipped to the side, and I held his stare until a group of people moved between us, breaking the contact.

“Two shots of tequila, please,” Raelynn ordered once we reached the bar. With glasses in hand, we lifted them high. “To bad influences.”

“To the best influences.”

We tapped our glasses and downed the tart liquid, bringing a lime to our lips.

“Hey, I see an acquaintance. Do you mind if I leave your side for a moment?”

“No. Go ahead. I think I’m going to hang out here for a bit.” I could use some time in the corner of the bar to gather my bearings.

“Okay. Let me know if you need me.”

Surprisingly, only a few minutes after she left, a man approached, sliding a folded card across the bar top, meeting my gaze with a serious one of his own before releasing the card and walking away.

I snatched it up with trembling fingers and swallowed hard, opening it.

Meet me on balcony four.

That was it—nothing else. No time. No instructions or hints about what would happen.

Balcony four was the one on the floor above us. I wasn’t even sure if I could get there.

Would I be able to make it to where he wanted me? What if I didn’t? Would I miss the opportunity? Did I ask for a redo?

I shook my head. If I let myself, I’d sit there all night, thinking of every scenario, but none of them mattered unless I actually tried. I’d come this far, I needed to go all the way.

Pulling my shoulders back, I gripped the card tight and walked with confidence. If I looked like I belonged, maybe no one would stop me.

I climbed the stairs, and the music slowly faded. The carpeted floor muted the sound of my heels as I approached the closed doors, fully prepared for them to be locked. No one was around when I gripped the handle and tugged, surprised when they opened without a fight. Slipping through the crack I’d created, I looked around to see if anyone noticed, but I was alone. In the dark, I could make out a smaller ballroom with glass doors across the floor, leading to the large balcony.

Twisting my mother’s ring again, I took my first step, halting at the loud clip my heels made on the hardwood. Rather than giving in to the tension screaming at me to turn and run, I pushed on. Power and strength surged through me with each step closer to the balcony.

I half expected someone to be waiting for me when I opened the glass doors, but it was merely the dark sky sparkling with the lights of the city. Faint music reached up, and I walked to the railing to find the party right below us. Partygoers mingled on the balcony below, smoking and laughing with friends.

I’d been so focused on everyone else, I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t alone until two hands with long fingers wrapped around the edge of the stone railing. Arms encased in black caged me in. Heat poured off him, bringing my skin to life before he’d even touched me.

I’d been ready to bolt, to change my mind and demand he set me free when his deep, rich voice ghosted along my cheek.

“Don’t turn around.”

Eight

Nico

“What?”

Her whispered word hit me with a familiarity, just a prick at my conscience before it fell away into the night.

“Don’t turn around.”

Despite my order, her head jerked to the side, her bold red lips coming into view. As punishment, I leaned down and nipped her ear, soothing it with a lick. Her gasp shifted to a soft oh, her lips forming the perfect circle I wanted to slide my cock into.

“Don’t talk.” I pressed my chest to her back, grinding against her to let her feel how hard I already was. “Just feel me.”

Her chest heaved over her labored breathing, and I ached to tug the fabric aside and bare the hard tips pressing against the thin fabric, but I used restraint, instead focusing on her petal-soft skin as I dragged my fingers up her arms. Goose bumps rippled along her skin, and her head fell forward at the same time she pressed into me.

I’d noticed her as soon as she’d come into the room. Her body wrapped in red, the dress twisted in ways it looked like one wrong move could lead to a peep show. Her dark hair piled on her head had