Heartless - Jade West Page 0,19

pussy so wet and so needy.

I wanted that again.

I wanted her again.

I stayed in position behind her, feeling her heat as she moved. So close. So fucking close.

The song finished and the prick by her side leaned down to her, and the silence between the tracks was enough that I could hear his words.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on him later,” he said, and Elaine laughed.

“Let’s hope he wants your hands on him, then,” she replied.

Interesting.

It was becoming apparent that everything about that woman was interesting, even the gay guy she was hanging out with.

I couldn’t deny the relief at affirming the guy really had no road into her pussy. I saw no lust in her eyes as he smiled down at her, nothing but . . . friendship. Genuine friendship . . . so I made a note of him as a potential ransom figure. Tristan. He must be the Tristan from the calendar listing.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, and it was in the way she melted into him that showed me affection between them.

It was insane, just how the sight of that flared up in me. How the way she touched him made me hungry for her to touch me like that. I didn’t understand her impact on me, and I didn’t want to. There was nothing I wanted other than the thrill of breaking her and staring into the hate in her eyes, burning as brightly as mine ever would. The very thought of wanting more than that gave me shivers.

The bass started up again, and the two of them started up their swaying along with it, whooping their arms above their heads. That’s when I did it. That’s when I made the move to close that final sliver of distance. I pressed up tight behind my blonde Constantine bitch, letting out one single breath against her cheek as I put my hands on her waist and pushed on by.

It was fast. One tiny heartbeat in the thrum of the room. But it was enough.

It was enough that she tensed. Enough that she turned. Enough that I felt her eyes searching after me as I disappeared into the darkness of the crowd.

I waited until there were a number of people between us before I turned back to face her, far enough away that she could never be quite certain who I was. Not amongst the dancing, and the cheering, and the flashing of the club lights all around.

Yet again, it was just enough.

She saw me.

I felt it. Sensed it. Wanted it.

I met her eyes through the shadows and the flashes of neon, and I held her gaze in mine.

Yes. She saw me.

She stopped moving. Dead in her tracks. Eyes open wide.

The guy at her side stopped moving and turned towards her, trying to work out what she was staring at.

But no.

He’d never manage it.

Terence Kingsley was already walking away.

8

Elaine

No. It couldn’t be.

My heart was pounding, and my breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop the waves of panic flying through my veins.

“What is it?” Tristan barked into my ear, and I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. “What is it, hey?” he asked again, but the figure was gone.

I struggled to keep sight of him, but the crowd was too dark. I could feel Tristan staring, too.

“What the hell are you looking at, Lainey? What is it?” he asked, and I took a deep breath before I turned to face him.

“It was Lucian Morelli. Lucian Morelli is here.”

His eyes widened, his mouth dropping to match, and then he shook his head and fixed me in a gaze that said I was crazy.

Yep, he was joining the Elaine-is-crazy club. He’d better get in line.

“Lucian Morelli isn’t in this place,” he told me. “No fucking way.”

I shrugged, knowing full well my eyes weren’t deceiving me. I pointed into the crowd. “He was over there, and before that he was right behind me, grabbing hold of my waist.”

My words had to be shouts above the music, but that didn’t matter. He heard me loud and clear.

His eyebrows were pitted as he shook his head again, then leaned in close. “You have to stop this. Whatever this damn fucking obsession with Lucian Morelli is, you have to damn well stop it.”

“It’s not an obsession!” I snapped. “He was right here!”

I nodded in contrast to his shaking head.

“I mean it, Tristan, He was HERE.”

“And I mean it, Lainey. He wasn’t.”

My head