Chapter 5
SYLAS
It was only supposed to be one dance. At least it’s what I told myself, but then one became two, two became six, and then I lost track of time.
It all started when she stepped on Owen Kovinsky’s foot. He rightfully deserved it for touching her without her permission, which I surmised when he came bitching to me.
I may be an egotistical, arrogant, cocky, womanizing show-off—and whatever else they say about me—but one thing I’m not is disrespectful.
But Owen is my teammate, so I did what any good friend would do. I talked to Chris, Salt’s head of security who used to work with Mom, and asked him to kick Owen out.
He’ll either hate me or be thankful that’s all I did. Either way, I don’t care.
His presence was long forgotten by the time I approached Anna. It took me a minute to go up to her, because what would I say? It’s clear she dislikes me, possibly even hates me. So, I watched from a distance, saw four other guys attempt to do what Owen did, and had all four kicked out.
That’s when I decided to make a move. I couldn’t just stand here. Marc and some of the other guys were giving me shit about it; Frost even said he’d go if I didn’t. He claimed he was only playing, trying to annoy me, but I heard the interest in his voice.
I didn’t anticipate her dismissing me like I was a nobody. That might’ve been a bit of a bruise to my ego, but I’ve never been known to give up.
That’s how I found myself in this predicament, semi hard and not wanting to let her go.
I’ve tried talking to her, get a conversation flowing, but she’s not interested in hearing what I have to say.
She doesn’t seem to mind my hands on her or grinding her ass on me, but I wish I could just talk to her for a moment.
“Congratulations.” She pivots on her heel, smirking up at me once we’ve nestled in a corner to ourselves. I’ve got my back to everyone behind us, but I leave enough space so she knows she’s free to walk away when she wants.
“For what?” I trace over her features, noting and memorizing how rich and black her hair is, how dark her whiskey eyes are. They almost look black, but I know they’re not. Her glossy red lips are supple and, I’m sure, very fucking kissable.
“For keeping your hands to yourself.” She slants her head to the side, folding her arms against her chest and causing her breasts to push up.
I’m going to hell because I stare long enough that I notice two things: She’s not wearing a bra, and I’m certain her nipples are pierced.
I clear my throat, then move to lean against the wall. “What can I say? My parents taught me better.”
“They must be proud.” Sarcasm drips from her mouth, the smirk only indenting deeper on her face.
“Oh, super proud.” I match her tone, but then I drop the snark. “Anna, I’m really sorry about—”
“No. I don’t want to hear it.” The playful expression on her face becomes blank. “I don’t want to think about grades or work or whatever. I just want to have a good time tonight. So, let’s not bring it up, and now that we’re done, I’m going to go find my friend.”
“Wait,” I rush to say. “I—” I don’t know why I’m doing this or why it even matters, but I know if I let her go now, I’ll hate myself for it. I do a physical three sixty and extend my hand out. “Hi, I’m Sylas. What’s your name?”
Her gaze flickers to my hand and back up to me, where she appears between amused and stupefied. I realize how stupid this is, and I know she’s probably thinking the same thing. It’s dark in here, but I’m close enough that I can gauge the reaction on her face.
She shocks me though when she slips her small hand in mine. “Hi, I’m Anna.”
I smile and she smiles and something strange happens in my stomach, like a swarm of butterflies have been let loose. Or like a strike of electricity shot straight to my heart.
“Are you having a good time, Anna?” Jesus. Awkward enough, Sy?
But she smiles, all lighthearted and pretty. “Please don’t be weird.”
I let go of her hand. “I’m not being weird. I’m making conversation.”
“Conversation?” She scoffs a laugh, and it comes out raspy. “Yeah, I guess I’m having a good time. My dancing partner is fairly decent.”
“Fairly decent?” I’m taken aback. “I thought I was pretty good.”
She winces, scrunching her nose. “I’m sorry, but you’ve been lied to. It’s okay, we all can’t be good at everything.” She pats my shoulder patronizingly.
I chuckle, breathing her in and getting a hint of strawberry, vodka, and vanilla. “Not all, but most things.”
“Right…” she drawls, slow and seductive. No, I’m hearing things. “At least you know how to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I know how to do that very well. I may be many things, but I know how to be respectful and—” I get sidetracked when I notice a wayward strand stuck to her lip.
I don’t think before I’m gently pulling it away and placing it back neatly with the rest of her hair.
“Sorry.” I should move my hand away, but I don’t.
“Guess that contradicts everything I just said…”
“I don’t know…” She rubs her lips together and tips her head down, eyes flashing to my hand on her hair.
“What don’t you know?” I step a little closer.
“If it’s considered contradictory when the other person might like what you’re doing.” Her words are dripping in heat, eyes hooded and dilated.
My heart rate might have just broken the scale to whatever is deemed normal for a pumping organ. It’s racing—too fast, too intense. I’m having a hard time getting it to chill the fuck down.
“Do you?” I cock a brow, my voice gruff. “Like what I’m doing?”
She takes a step forward and drops her arms to her side. “Maybe.”
I grab a lock of her hair, coiling it around my finger, then drag it down until it’s next to her breast. Her chest rises a little faster than before and her nipple is now poking through her shirt, stiff and further outlining the barbell pierced through it.
I clench my teeth, inhaling a breath, feeling dizzy over her presence and the smell of her perfume. “Can I touch you right here?”
With her eyes locked on mine, she doesn’t hesitate when she nods. “Touch me.”
I close the space between us, walking her backward until her back is flush against the wall. “Where?”
“Anywhere,” she replies breathlessly.
I release her hair and raise my finger to the outer part of her collarbone. Her light brown skin shimmers and heats as I glide it across the bone and inward before stopping in the middle.
I feel her heart pump beneath my finger as I drag it down until it’s at the top slope of her breast. Her jaw tics, but she keeps her gaze glued to my fingers, watching and waiting to see what I’ll do next.
I drag it over her shirt and around her nipple, teasing her until she quietly and impatiently groans. I smirk, enjoying her frustration, but I don’t prolong it as I grab hold and pinch her nipple hard over her shirt. She inhales a sharp breath and fists the bottom of my shirt.
When I twist the barbell, she squeezes her eyes shut and tips her head down, and I almost miss it from how loud the music is, but I catch the muffled moan before it gets drowned out.
I lean in, my mouth above her ear, my thumb and forefinger pinching and twisting her nipple, occasionally pulling on the barbell. “How long do you think I can do this before you come?”
“I-I…” she stutters and drops her head to my chest. “Oh…” She moans again, a little louder than before.
Like she couldn’t give a fuck that there’s a raging party behind us.
Despite that, I make sure to shield her from everyone.
I don’t want anyone to see her the way I am.
“That’s never happened. Don’t waste your time. ”
“Never?” I hum. My fingers are too big, but as best as I can, I grab the beads at the end of the bar and pull only those forward. “Well, I’m very good at proving people wrong, and I’m always up for a challenge.”
She pushes her breast into my palm, releases my shirt, and slips her hand under it. She grabs my waist, nails digging into my skin, and I hiss.
“Don’t disappoint me then.” She lifts her head, and her needy, lust-filled eyes lock with mine.
I chuckle. “I bet I can get two.”
She arches a perfect black brow, laughing. “Please don’t make a fool out of yourself. Let’s attempt one and then we’ll—” Her lips part and a gasp escapes them as I thread my free hand through her hair. I fist enough of it to be able to tilt her head to the side.
I make it look casual. If anyone were to walk behind me, they wouldn’t think anything of us. They’d probably assume I’m a guy hugging his girlfriend.
Little do they know…
“Stand on your tiptoes,” I demand.
She does as I instruct, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t shock me. I half expected her to tell me to fuck off or something along those lines, but she does as I say without protest.
“Do you get off on that?” I whisper against the shell of her ear, blowing on the gold array of earrings that line her ear, my lips just barely grazing the skin before they descend to her jaw.
“On what?” She’s feigning ignorance, so I decide to go along with it.
“Being told what to do and knowing someone could see what we’re doing.” I nip her jawline and tug on the piercing. She shudders against me, fingernails sinking deeper into my skin. “What else are you into?”
I make sure to nip every inch of her jaw. When I reach her chin, I bite down hard, earning a groan from her, but I know she enjoyed it because she moans a second later.
“We’re hardly doing anything and I’m not wet.”
“If I lift your skirt right now, you won’t be dripping wet?”
As my lips drop to her throat, I feel it bob. “So you’re playing with my nipple and I moaned; that doesn’t mean I’m wet.”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
“Never said I was,” she quips, her breath choppy and fingers hooked to my waist so hard, I’m surprised she hasn’t punctured the skin.
“So maybe you’re not wet.” Oh, I know she is. “Tell me, what gets you off?”