he kissed me last week.
The bar lights turn down and the stage lights shine bright, showcasing the three-person band on stage. Everyone stands to their feet to clap and whistle as the singer strums his guitar right before the drummer fills every inch of this place with deep claps and percussion.
Everyone except Talent and me.
We can’t be bothered to break free from the spell we’re under. I’m hypnotized by the way my top lip fits between both of his and how large his hand feels against the side of my face. He’s mesmerized by my gift of persuasion—my ability to make men adore me, attainable only by paying up. Talent might think his interest is genuine, but it’s not. I’m a sex symbol. A fantasy to distract men from their boring lives. An escape.
I am the devil.
We’re playing a dangerous game out in the open. Until he figures it out, I don’t mind participating.
Even if there’s a small part of me that wishes this were real.
“Dance with me,” Talent says. He leans his forehead against mine with his palm resting against the back of my neck.
I’d rather stay right here and get drunk on his lips, but I nod in agreement and allow him to lead me away from our table. He pushes himself through the crowd toward the front of the small stage, where the music becomes impossibly louder. A bead of sweat drips down the hollowness of my lower back, and my skin glows under the warm lights. I let my hair down, shaking it loose through my fingers.
Other couples dance beside us, while the rest of the audience moves from side to side with the bluesy rock beat.
Talent smiles down at me, placing his hands on my sides. A sheet of rock breaks away from my protected heart, nearly dropping me to my knees. Instead, I lift my arms over my head and move my hips to the melody. Talent’s palms slide up to my arms to circle them around his neck, pulling me closer. He doesn’t dance as much as he watches me dance for him. I turn in his embrace, pressing my back against his chest and swaying.
Hair sticks to my face, and the heat rises hopelessly higher as more and more people join us on the dance floor. The band sings a sultry rendition of a song about a lonely queen without her king. And like the lyrics were written just for us, Talent takes my hand and spins me on the part about wondering where the other has been all their life.
He secures me with an arm across my back, holding my hand with his free one near our faces like a first dance at a wedding. We step in circles, not caring who we bump into or step on, or if we’re on beat. We’re tender smiles and small touches. Talent and I may as well be the only people in the bar, accompanied by tempo and tune.
This goes on until the band announces they’re taking a break and the room starts to clear, making way for cooler air.
“Want to go outside?” Talent asks. He pushes my sweaty bangs out of my face.
“God, yes,” I say.
We exit a side door to an alleyway just off the main street where the entrance to the bar faces. The scent of cigarette smoke mingled with salt from the ocean only miles away fills my lungs, and I inhale deeply, falling against the side of the brick building to cool down. We’re alone, but I can hear voices nearby just around the corner.
I tie my hair back up, but Talent pulls the clip from my hair and tosses it over his shoulder.
“You have no fucking idea how sexy you look with your hair like that,” he says. He rests his hand on the wall beside my head and leans into me to kiss my swollen-from-kissing-all-night lips.
Heat radiates from under his button-up. Fuck cooling down when he offers this kind of warmth. His sweat tastes like a dream.
Pushing himself against me, I gasp when I feel how badly he wants me. I rake my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull his bottom lip between my teeth until he groans. Even in my heels, Talent stands taller than me. Climbing the length of his body crosses my mind before he lifts me from under my bottom like I weigh nothing at all. My skirt rides up as I wrap my legs around