I’m not usually one to dance unless I have a lot of alcohol in my system, but when Calvin asked and batted his amber eyes at me, I couldn’t say no.
Besides, tonight is supposed to be about trying new things, right?
Now that I’m here, I don’t want to leave.
It kind of feels nice to disappear into the crowd. Sitting on the outskirts almost feels more terrifying. I’m much more the focus of others’ attention, more approachable.
In here, it’s all limbs and rhythm and freedom.
Geez. I know I don’t drink often, but man am I feeling it tonight. How strong do they make the drinks here? Eh, whatever. I could use a night of fun.
I let myself relax into the music, swaying with the beat and getting lost in the loud bass.
Cooper was right—they do play their music too loud, but I don’t hate it. It’s distracting, and I could use a distraction right now.
Anything to help me not think about the fact that Cooper looked at me like he never has before.
And the fact that I liked it.
A lot.
Like so much I want him to look at me like that again.
Just keep dancing and keep distracting yourself. Stop thinking about Cooper. Tonight is about fun. It’s about relaxing. Tonight is about getting laid. Nothing else. Nobody else.
I move to the music, dancing through another song by myself, and then I start to wonder if Calvin is going to return.
I dance my way closer to the bar, trying to get a glimpse and see if I can spot him.
He’s there all right.
Lips locked tightly with someone else.
So much for that.
Oh well. He wasn’t that great of a dancer anyway and kind of gave off douchebag vibes. A little too full of himself for my liking.
I’m about to turn back into the crowd when a nagging stops me in my tracks, like I’m being watched.
I slide my eyes toward the other end of the bar.
There he is.
Watching me.
Cooper’s light green eyes are locked on me like I’m the only person in the room. The hair on my arms stands on end, and I shiver.
Lust.
Even from here, it’s clear as day.
Cooper is staring at me like he wants to eat me alive.
He tips his glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a long sip, not once moving his eyes off me.
It’s intoxicating and nerve-racking all at once.
The nerves win, and I flee back onto the dance floor, hiding from his scrutiny. Hiding from the thoughts I shouldn’t be having that are swimming in my head.
It’s too much at once, and I need a second away from him.
Not once in the last ten years of friendship have I had anything other than platonic thoughts about Cooper.
Now I can’t seem to stop thinking about him in very nonplatonic ways.
Two hands curl around my waist, and for a split second, I panic.
Then the familiar scent washes over me.
Sage.
Warm.
Summer nights.
Cooper.
His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me into him until my back is flush with his front.
As if we’ve done this a thousand times before—and we certainly haven’t, not even once—he takes control, moving us in perfect sync.
His chest is hard, his arms strong.
He feels like Cooper and a stranger all at the same time.
The song ends and another begins.
We don’t stop dancing.
Cooper’s grip tightens, almost to the point of hurting, but I don’t dare try to move, not wanting to break this spell we seem to be under.
I like it too much.
The alcohol.
It has to be that hindering my inhibitions.
These feelings aren’t real. They’re booze-infused.
That’s why I don’t move when his lips ghost along my throat.
It’s why I lean into his touch.
Why I spin in his arms and wrap my own around his neck.
And it’s the culprit for every stupid action I take.
Like pressing up onto my tiptoes and bringing my mouth just inches from his. Threading my fingers through his always-messy-in-that-effortless-way hair. Pulling him closer.
His burning stare bores into me, hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before. The sweat dripping down my neck isn’t from the dancing or the crowd.
It’s from him.
I press into him. So close I can feel his chest brushing against mine.
Close enough that if anyone were to bump into us right now, our lips would instantly collide.
“Caroline…” he whispers, his lips grazing mine just enough to make me yearn for more, his hand crashing into my hair and holding me still. “What’s happening here?”