5. Vivian
Vivian
T he notes of the music have taken on a deeper, more sensual beat. I may not understand Spanish, but my body recognizes erotic rhythms in any language. Glancing up at Michael, I wonder how he’ll react if I take this further. If I allow myself to let go, show him exactly how well I can move.
Before I have a chance to, he closes what little space remains between us. His hands trail down to grip my hips firmly as his chest meets mine, my breasts grazing his pecs. Hot damn . The heat level just ratched up a thousand notches, most notably between my legs.
I draw in a sharp breath and his eyes, which have been focused on where our bodies touch, fly to mine.
With a lifted eyebrow, his molten eyes search mine as his hand cups my face, checking to make sure this is okay.
I nod, a little dazed as he bends down. “Good,” he whispers in my ear.
His breath trails over me, and I can’t stop the ripple of desire that runs through me.
Taking my hands, he drapes them behind his neck, pressing us together as one.
Encouraged by the closeness, my fingers lightly wander the nape of his neck.
Goosebumps erupt on his skin and a small smile comes over my face as I realize he’s just as affected as I am.
Closing my eyes, I lose myself in his embrace, swaying back and forth.
I feel better than I ever have before, comfort and excitement blending together in his arms. His crisp citrus scent delights my senses as I shift closer to inhale deeply.
I need to find out what cologne he uses because I want to spray it all over my bed sheets.
I’m really liking this , I think as one of his hands splays against my lower back and melds us together.
“I’m really liking you, ” Michael whispers against the shell of my ear and drops the softest of kisses behind it.
My entire body ignites at the touch of his lips as I realize I said those words out loud.
Whoa, girl, you’re off your game. Get it together.
But my heart doesn’t care; it’s too caught up in the seductive beats and the throb of my hips grinding against his.
Our movements match perfectly, each gyration teasing my skin.
All hesitation gone, I give in the music, the heat, and all of him .
When a particularly seductive melody hits, he slides his knee in between my legs.
I’m practically riding his thigh, the black of my pants blending with the dark denim of his jeans.
I should object, I really should , but his touch is velvet and addictive and it all feels too good.
Our bodies are joined as one, hands, torsos, legs, like we should be taking this to the bedroom.
The sensual pop of his hip on every fourth beat grinds into my pelvis, hitting just where I need him and I want, I need, I crave more.
Michael drags me up his leg, one hand supporting my back, the other gently but firmly tilting me in a low dip, and I trust that he has me.
I allow myself to believe I’m secure, and he’s not going to let me fall.
As I come back up, those gorgeous eyes have become impossibly darker, and is it my imagination or is he breathing harder too?
My heart matches his pace as we grind together, his strong arms holding me firmly.
I would let this man do just about anything to my body right now.
The male vocals on the song are low and gravelly.
I have no idea what the lyrics mean, but it sounds dirty and full of promise.
Is it normal to want to lose my clothes right here?
Never have I felt this level of potent desire while in a dance club, even when Sisqo or Ginuwine is playing.
I’d check to see if anyone else is lust-drunk, but I’m too busy feeling Michael roll his hips against mine to look around.
His dark eyes burn not just with hunger but a deeper level of passion.
Like he’s yearning for my soul.
I can’t break free from the intensity of his gaze. My chest begins to tighten.
There’s losing yourself in the moment, and then there’s losing control entirely.
Which one am I doing?
My breathing becomes shallow, and my pulse races faster before it all gets to be too much and I force myself to look away.
“Want to get a drink?” Michael pulls back, giving me some space, his eyes carefully examining me.
Can he read my mind? “C’mon.” His smile is warm, comforting.
No irritation. Breaking our sensual grip, I immediately miss his heat as my skin chills.
But he’s still here, placing his hand at the small of my back and gently guiding me to the bar, his touch grounding me.
“What’s your poison, my lady?” he asks, his hand slides to my waist and tucks me close to his side as we join the group of people waiting to be served.
Unlike when Matt tried this, Michael’s touch feels protective, and I don’t want to admit how good it feels.
Or how much it’s freaking me out. I try to hide my ragged breaths and direct my attention on the alcohol selection instead.
“Tequila,” I say, glancing back at him.
“Spicy,” he grins, “I like it.” His eyes dance with the reflective firelight of the tiki torches that rain golden on the smooth bar surface. “Silver or gold?”
“What do you think?” I quirk a brow at him.
He takes a minute. I’m glad he’s giving it some thought.
It seems trivial, but situations like this show how a guy will treat you.
Taking initiative is hot, but only if they take your wishes into account first. When silly little Matt with his silly little khakis just assumed that I would drink whatever he chose for me, it made me wonder if he thought all girls would just fall into line with whatever he wanted. No thank you.
Michael murmurs something low as he scrapes his hand along his jaw. It sounds a lot like the sensual Spanish from the song before. His eyes rake over me, and I squirm in spite of myself.
“You look like a woman who prefers gold.” he says, still stroking that sinfully sexy chin and I wish that hand was stroking my body instead.
His eyes caress me, taking in all of my face but not straying below my neck.
Like he’s appraising priceless art. A flush starts to creep across my chest. ”Yes,” he declares. “Solid gold.”
“Bingo.” I clear my throat, his perusal almost unnerving. Breathe, Vivian , I chastise myself as I turn my head to scan the bottles that I didn’t have a chance to earlier. The gold, amber, and clear liquids glow on the shelf. Patron, 1800, and of course, my nemesis—Jose Cuervo.
“You don’t like silver,” he observes. “Why is that?”
“The only bad experience I’ve had with alcohol was with white tequila. Could’ve been the Chinese food, but I blame the Patron.” I laugh awkwardly, and then cringe. That was probably the least attractive thing I could reveal to this hot-as-hell stranger, but oh well.
“Fair enough.” Michael chuckles. “Mine was Jim Bean after a camping trip,” he adds, leveling the playing field. That’s sweet. “Pretty sure I should’ve gone to the hospital instead of waiting it out on the couch.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, not one of my finer moments.” He grimaces, turning back to the long shelf of liquor options. “But you live and learn, right?” I nod, thankful for the admission that a perfect man can make mistakes too.
“A shot of anejo for my lady,” Michael says when the bartender finally makes his way to us.
His hand returns to its possessive hold on my waist, and I don’t know if I’m more turned on by that or the fact that he actually knows something about tequila.
Anejo happens to be my favorite age of tequila; maybe it’s a lucky guess on his part.
But it’s his thumb lightly stroking my waist as his arm cradles me, the soft movement rhythmic and soothing, that has me second-guessing myself.
What am I doing?
More importantly, what do I want to do?
My heart and head are at war—not to mention my body which is unabashedly begging to crawl into Michael’s pants—knowing I came here with established rules. Rules meant to keep me safe. Rules meant to give me clarity. Rules I want to throw out the window right now. At least for tonight.
Every moment with him has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. And also, exactly right. He's confident. Commanding. In every look, every touch. Maybe on another guy it’d seem arrogant, but on him, I like it. On him, it’s sexy. Alluring. Self-assured.
His hands leave searing marks of heat wherever he touches me, fire branding into my soul when his eyes capture mine.
He makes me feel desired and protected at the same time.
Cherished and also like he can’t wait to devour me.
No one has ever made me feel like this.
When you’ve lived through as much as I have in the past few years, it feels like a lifetime. There’s not a flavor of guy I haven’t tried. It’s been what, an hour? since Michael and I first met, and all I want is more. More of him.
Would it really be so bad to pursue it, this connection? Even just for tonight?
Claire’s words echo in my head, encouraging me to take a chance.
I have been “good” for some time now. What’s the harm in satisfying my curiosity?
And when have I ever let a petty thing like rules stand in my way?
Rules are good and all, but then there’s going with your gut.
And at this moment, I’m about to let my gut win.
Fuck it. I’m tired of flip-flopping. I want to give in.
I’ll analyze my behavior in the morning, but for tonight, I’m going to let myself get wrapped up in Michael and whatever this thing is between us.
Maybe just for one night, I can relax and allow myself to feel wanted, desired, cherished by someone who looks like they want to make me feel good.
Like how his hand on my skin feels good.
Warm, invigorating, and with too many clothes in between.
“Salt and lime?” Michael looks at me and I nod, pleased. A man who pays attention is a sexy man after all. “And a shot of Crown.”
The bartender hands over the drinks and Michael lifts his.
“To the best laid plans… and destiny,” he says and clinks his glass against mine.
His words hold weight, his warm eyes encompassing mine.
I don’t hesitate as I meet his eyes before nodding, and I throw my shot back.
My mouth twists a slight grimace as I bite the lime, but I smile around the sour tang.
He doesn’t know how true his words just might be.
This night has taken a turn for the better, and I’m not gonna fight it anymore.