Chapter 5 – Aricia
Chapter Five
Aricia
My heart surges with guilt, rage, and all manner of emotions.
But I can’t stop what’s happening between me and this hot ass Italian man standing in front of me.
He has the hottest body that I’ve ever seen up close and I’m drunk enough to only care about this man’s body.
He looks over a foot taller than me, which means he can pin me against the wall too if those muscles aren’t for show.
Dance? Are we really going to do this? I haven’t danced with anyone in a long time, but Peter doesn’t wait for permission.
Peter reaches for the small of my back and guides me to the center of the dance floor.
I can’t help myself. I haven’t danced since…
college, maybe? Kennard didn’t like when I danced because he thought I was drawing too much attention to myself.
There’s enough liquor in my body that I can think about Kennard without losing my shit. All I want to do is just… move.
“Yes, I’ll dance with you Peter.”
I hope he isn’t an awkward ass white boy, but within seconds on the dancefloor, I can feel my assumption stuck in my throat.
Peter’s hands grip my waist dominantly and his hips lock in with mine as I move and he easily matches my rhythm.
I push back against him and switch up the tempo, challenging him to fall behind or lose the beat…
But he doesn’t. Peter grinds his hips against mine and pulls my body back against his so I can feel him. My body almost freezes and my thighs tremble instinctively because this sexy ass stranger doesn’t even bother trying to hide how fucking sexy he is.
He moves his face close to mine so his beard tickles my neck and I can smell something like patchouli and frankincense in his aftershave. My thighs tingle and the large cock pressed up against my ass cheeks throbs.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to disrespect you, Aricia but… you’re doing things to me I don’t understand…”
I want to blame it on the alcohol, but he’s right.
This feels so fucking good and I really don’t want the connection between us to stop.
I slowly turn around to face Peter and throw my arms around his neck while he grabs my hips again.
Everything between us is moving way too fast, but I’m riding an alcohol-fueled high and don’t want to stop myself.
Every disturbing thing I witnessed with Kennard is permanently burned on my brain.
I would do anything to numb that feeling and I would much rather “do” a tall Italian man covered in rippling, well-defined muscles.
And he wants me. I don’t know if he’s a good person or a fucking psychopath and considering my job, I should be way more responsible.
Our eyes meet and a shiver travels straight between my thighs.
Fuck, he’s sexy. And those green eyes are a rare shade of genuine green that I can’t help but stare at.
His palms grip my lower back as he pulls me closer and the heat simmers between us as Peter’s lips hover closer.
He’s going to kiss me. One of the good things about growing older is that you feel less confused about the signs and signals you’re sharing with another person.
It’s just… easier to read people. It helps me in the courtroom and here…
“You’re sexy,” Peter whispers. “But I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“What? Dancing?”
He chuckles and how the fuck does this man have a sexy laugh? I’m wet instantly and his gorgeous eyes don’t help.
“I want to do a lot more than dance with you, Aricia.”
Holy shit. He’s forward. I don’t know why it surprises me considering everything I know about him. I should look for Rana… But I can’t look away from Peter’s gaze. I feel totally transfixed and hypnotized by this beast of a man who wants to do a lot more than dance with me.
Why can’t I look away from him?
Peter makes it worse by running his thumb over my lips.
“I’m not a good man and you look like you deserve a good guy.”
“I’m a grown ass woman. Don’t tell me what I want.”
He laughs. “Fuck. I love that.”
“What?”
“You’re putting me in my place.”
He leans forward and kisses me. I haven’t kissed another man since I had my first kiss with Kennard.
I know. It’s lame. But it’s what I signed up for and what I promised before God.
Peter’s boldness melts everything away and the only way I can stop all the feelings from surging in my chest and bursting forth is kissing him back.
I grab Peter’s face… and I kiss him without giving a damn that we just met, he might be bad for me, and we’re standing in the middle of an Italian bar in downtown Buffalo.
My heart pounds out of control and my head swims as that first kiss with Peter gets hotter and more intense.
I struggle not to moan as his surprisingly full lips suck on mine.
I thought all kissing was cold, clammy, with a hard, pointy tongue.
I didn’t realize that kissing could feel like this and I want more of it.
My fingers sink into Peter’s beard and I spread the scent of frankincense and patchouli everywhere as his lips part mine and Peter’s tongue slides into my mouth.
He grips my waist tighter and pulls me against him.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Everything is still so new for me that I still feel married but I’m not.
Kennard is dead. My cheater ex-husband is dead.
And I don’t have to worry about what anyone thinks about me anymore because eventually, what happened to Kennard will get out and nothing can be worse than the fall out from that. I might as well enjoy myself.
Peter pulls away from me for a moment and when our eyes meet again, we both know… it’s on. I lean in closer and he glances towards the nightclub bathroom, where there might be one or two people engaged in unscrupulous activities.
“We can’t go in there,” I say to him, completely unsure of why I’m even entertaining this.
Peter is sexy but… I’m a lawyer and in a pretty fucked up situation emotionally with my last relationship.
I shouldn’t be hooking up in bar bathrooms with hot Italian men.
It’s not a good way to unwind even if he’s so damn tempting.
Peter grins at me and worsens my willpower as his thumb touches my bottom lip and his eyes remain totally locked onto mine.
“I’ll pay the guy in there $100 to guard the door for us,” he says. “I just… need alone time with you…”
He leans in and whispers to me, “I could use a little quiet too.”
My heart pounds as intensely as the music at the bar. Peter has gone way past dropping hints about what he wants.
Translation: This sexy ass Italian man wants to fuck me against a bathroom wall.
I’m giddy and loopy in a way that doesn’t feel entirely brought on by the alcohol but Peter is too sexy for me to care.
He takes my hand and leads me towards the back of the bar.
We don’t have to pay anyone to watch the door because it’s empty.
I glance over my shoulder for his sister Flora but… I don’t see her.
Peter squeezes my hand and I stop thinking of anyone else.
He shoves the bathroom door open and drags me inside.
I let him take me away from everything that makes me Aricia.
I don’t want to be a mature, put-together lawyer tonight.
I want to forget… everything. He grabs my hips again once we’re alone and separated from the loud music pulsing outside.
“You’re so hot,” he murmurs, locking the door behind us and keeping the lights off.
There’s a small, glowing blue light in the bathroom, just bright enough that I can roughly make out the features of Peter’s body.
The most important features to me right now are those muscles… and the bulge between his legs.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my heart thudding with excitement because I haven’t been called hot in years.
Hearing that compliment from a man who looks like Peter shouldn’t awaken anything in me, but it does.
I just haven’t thought of myself as an independent sexual being rather than some man’s sexual object in years.
I didn’t realize that I needed to be free. Peter squeezes my ass as I kiss him back more assertively than before. I squeeze his lower lip between my teeth and when he grunts with satisfaction, I press my hand to Peter’s chest. Our bodies move together until he presses me against the bathroom sink.
“Fuck,” Peter murmurs. He leans forward and his forehead presses against mine. I kiss him one more time but his lips feel… numb.
“Peter?” I whisper. The lean forward descends into a slump. I grab Peter’s face and try to look into his eyes but… he’s not keeping them open. What the fuck? My eyes droop shut and all of a sudden, I don’t feel in control of my seat on the sink.
I try saying Peter’s name again, but I think a bunch of nonsense words slip out of my mouth instead of what I really wanted to say.
Peter is totally out of it and I don’t really think it’s just the liquor, but he can’t speak or stand.
The enormous hulk of a man loses his balance and his weight presses me back against the mirror.
I can’t get a hold of myself no matter how hard I try. Fuck, I should have known all that muscle would weigh a lot. I grunt and try to push him off of me, but it doesn’t work. I can’t move my lips to scream and by the time Peter passes out in my arms, I feel my consciousness slipping away from me…
I know something is horribly wrong.