Epilogue
I nurse my drink as I sit in a corner, trying to blend in and disappear into the drapes.
The sorority house is packed with grinding bodies, drugs, and enough alcohol to drown a small village.
The music is way too loud, the body heat has me sweating like a pig, and the fucking white shirt with lace bra is hiding nothing.
I’ve had to pee for over an hour, but refuse to move from my spot, knowing I’ll lose it, plus then people will notice me.
I pull my cowboy hat lower and curl into myself as best I can.
I still have that feeling of being watched that I can’t shake, but as I glance around, no one is paying me an ounce of attention.
I mean to keep it that way.
“Mind if I sit?” Behind my curtain of hair, I catch sight of blonde hair, and I ignore the question, hoping this guy will take a hint, but instead, he crouches to my eye level. His hands on my knees snap my eyes open.
“There you are. Feeling ok? I thought you’d passed out. You’ve barely moved all night.” The guy’s dressed as a pirate, and his smile tells me two things.
He’s dangerous and knows precisely what to do with the tongue he’s slowly licking his bottom lip with.
“You do speak English, right?” I frown and clear my throat to inform him I speak three languages, but his uncovered eye drops to take in my body.
“Porque estas sola, Preciosa?” His voice is like smooth, melted chocolate in English, but in Spanish, it’s downright addictive.
“I’m not alone. This place is full.” I point out the fault in his logic, but all it does is make him smirk.
“And yet you aren’t dancing or socializing. Let me get you another drink.” He reaches for my cup, but I pull it into my chest, splashing the now-warm beer over our hands.
“Shit,” I look around for anything to clean up the mess, but the pirate produces a frilly-looking handkerchief with a flourish before gently wiping my thighs dry.
His hands move straight up to my core without hesitation, and he makes sure I feel his knuckles brush my thong before pulling his hand away and tucking the fabric back into the front pocket of his costume.
“There, all dry.” His eyes move off me as I adjust my skirt, but it’s no use, it’s not going to cover me any better now than it did when I walked down here earlier.
“I wasn’t all that wet to begin with,” I mumble to myself, and somehow, even over the music, he still hears it.
“What a shame. I could change that.” What the fuck did he just say to me?
“Is that what you call flirting?” He leans in and taps his ear.
Like a fool, I move in to repeat my question, but he turns, landing a kiss on my mouth. I gasp in shock, and he takes it like an invitation to lay the most devastatingly hot kisses of my life on me. It’s too short and fast, causing me to grow damp just like he promised.
“How about now?” he says once he’s drawn back enough to speak.
“I should slap you.” I bite off, not wanting to admit my current state of arousal.
“Kinky, but I only give the spankings, not take them. But for you, I may make an exception.” He stands, taking my hands with him, forcing me to my feet as well.
“Dance with me. You can’t sit here all night in this outfit, hiding. It would be a fucking crime. I promise to be a perfect gentleman while on the dance floor.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“You kissed me without permission or even telling me your name, so you’ll forgive me when I call bullshit.” He grins with a little shy nod.
“Fair enough. My name’s Zek.” He tilts his head, waiting for me to return the politeness.
“Genesis,” I say on a sigh.
What harm could giving him my first name cause?
“Pleasure to kiss you.” I grin at his cheeky answer.
“Dance?” He pulls me closer to him so a drunk frat boy doesn’t trip over me getting by.
“One,” I say, needing to move around to help dispel the feeling of claustrophobia.
“We’ll see,” he whispers in my ear before moving us into the other room, where the party is really in full swing.
Four songs later, his hands haven’t moved lower than my waist or higher than my bra, and I’m burning up from the sweaty dance floor and desire.
“Need the restroom,” I yell into his ear and point to the door.
He nods and helps me over to the door. I knock, and blessedly, the restroom is empty. I hurry in and go into the stall. The door opens as I’m peeing, but I’m so lost in the sensation of relief that I don’t pay much attention to who came inside.
I finish, flush, and stand at the sink washing my hands when I feel a sharp sting in my arm.
“OUCH! What the fuck?” my voice trails off into a slur.
“Easy, Preciosa.” My knees grow weak, and Zek catches me in his arms.
Alarm bells are going off in my head. I’m in the bathroom alone with a virtual stranger who has drugged me, and my eyes start to water. As tears run down my face, I manage to use my remaining strength to growl at him.
“Yoouu proomisseed,” I barely get the words out before my eyes grow heavy.
“I promised to be a gentleman on the dance floor. In here, I’m just Pirate.” The drug takes me out into the darkness, but not before I hear him muttering to himself.
“Gonna enjoy tearing this fucking outfit off you.”