Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
boston
I run a hand over my face, taking in a deep breath that doesn’t seem to completely fill my lungs.
This was a bad idea. Of course, she’s acting like my date.
I should have seen it coming. Asking to get a drink with me, waving me onto the dance floor, it’s all date behaviour.
Ariana Forkerro loves the game of cat and mouse that she’s started.
She was going to make me sweat in one way or another and it’s fucking working.
I yank on my tie, trying to focus on anything but the way her mouth looked. I can’t think about her ass in that dress while she danced, or of that thick, blonde hair, either. I can’t think about the mischief that dances in those eyes, no matter what she’s talking about.
I can’t think about her, but all I can think about is her.
To the point where I need to physically put myself into a time-out in the bathroom.
At Lowesy’s wedding.
Because of my best friend’s sister.
What a fucking nightmare.
The bathroom door flies open and in storms the devil. Her eyes lock onto me and I throw up a hand, ready to tell her to go right back out where the public can see her, to get as far away from me as humanly possible, but of course, I don’t get the chance.
She doesn’t let me.
She shuts the door and locks it, whirling on me instead.
“You’re my date, Boston Black. You owe me a dance.”
I can hear Iris playing down the hall.
“You need to cut this shit out, Ari,” I say quietly, my voice sounding like a plea. I’m begging her.
“Don’t feel like it,” she says with a little shrug, waltzing up to me in that baby blue dress that goes with her eyes. She stops right in front of me, craning her neck to meet my stare. She holds out her hand. “Dance with me, Boston Black.”
“Ari,” I grumble.
Don’t take her hand. Don’t take her hand. Don’t take her hand.
She smiles sweetly. “Please? Nobody has asked me to dance all night and I’m starting to feel like the ugly step-sister.”
It’s the way she pouts, if you wanted to know. It’s the way she pushes out that bottom lip that makes me reach for her hand, like the idea of her feeling inadequate for even the briefest of seconds is something that will haunt me for years afterward.
She smiles in triumph as my palm wraps around her own, and she comes to me in the way she always does. She bridges the distance, slowly walking into my body, sliding her hand along my shoulder.
And we’re dancing. In a men’s public bathroom. At a wedding. To Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls.
I swallow as she tucks herself in close.
My hand glides up her back on instinct, inhaling the scent of flowers from her hair.
We turn slowly, and it should feel fucking stupid, doing this in a bathroom, but all I can think about is how right she feels in my arms and how wild it is that it’s taken this long for her to be in them.
After a moment, with nothing but just our heartbeats and The Goo Goo Dolls breaking through the silence, she glides her hand up my shoulder until she can wrap it around my neck instead. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself against my body, moving with me in a way that only lovers do.
Well, fuck.
Her hand leaves mine shortly after that.
Both arms are now around my neck. I hesitate for only a moment, like moving from one type of dance to another would be crossing whatever bullshit line I’ve drawn in the sand, but then I’m sliding my other arm around her body anyway, and the reasons I shouldn’t start to fade into reasons I have to.
This is a bad idea. I know it’s a dance, but it’s intimate. It feels like we’re sinning, even in secret. I know with utter certainty that whatever we’re doing here would bother Forker.
Ariana tilts her head back to look at me through those long, black lashes. Stunning face, if you hadn’t realized. There is just something about her smile that makes that face incomparable.
Such a bad idea.
“This isn’t so scary, is it?” she says as we slowly turn, her eyes studying mine.
I swallow, my gaze dropping to her mouth. “Terrifying.”
It comes out in a gravelly whisper, and her smile falls. Her brows furrow forward as she scans my face, but I’m a lost cause at this point. She’s woven her web. She’s finally snagged me within it, and now that she’s so close, I want to be fucking devoured.
Such a bad idea.
I lower my head, no hesitation before this choice, and press my lips to hers. I kiss the most tempting mouth in the world, and whatever comes next doesn’t fucking matter because the memory of this kiss could hold me over for lifetimes.
She’s frozen for a moment, startled I made the first move for once.
It doesn’t last long. She’s not one to shy away from what she wants.
Her hands tighten around my neck, and she hoists herself up higher in my arms—her soft mouth kissing me back.
She’s impatient and demanding and every single thing I expected her to be. Every single thing I want her to be.
My hand glides up her back, sliding under the billow of her thick hair in that ponytail.
Her tongue glides into my mouth without pause from either of us, and I practically groan against it when I finally taste her.
The flavour of her vanilla lip gloss, the hint of lemon in her mouth from whatever she drank before she walked in here, all of it.
We’re still dancing, still moving slightly to the music, but all I can hear anymore is the echo of her name in my head.
The song ends at the worst possible time, cutting this shorter than I’d have liked.
She slowly pulls back, glancing up at me with victory in her eyes.
That’s a different look than she’s ever worn when she’s studied me.
A look I shouldn’t see on her face. A look that tells me something has changed for her now that I’ve given in to her.
I don’t know if it’s a look that’s in my favour.
My eyes dart to her plump, swollen lips, and though I’m fueled by the fact that I’ve made my mark on them, I’m also doused with a wave of panic that I have.
I’m about to tell her that this was a bad idea in the politest way that I can think of, but her eyes darken before I can find my balls or my voice. She reaches for my belt, scrambling to get it off me.
My brain short-circuits.
This can’t happen. This has already gone way too far.
This absolutely cannot fucking happen.
“Woah, woah,” I say, shaking my head. I reach for her hands, stopping their busy movements. She blinks up at me, eyes wide and needy and I’ve never wanted something this badly in my fucking life. “We can’t, Ari. You know that.”
She angles her hand, sweeping her palm against my very hard, aching cock. I hitch a breath, trying not to groan when she wraps her fingers around it through my clothes. She makes everything so fucking impossible. She makes it so I’ll never have a chance.
“It feels like you can. It feels like you actually might need it,” she says simply, her voice soft.
I keep my hand on her wrist, breathing heavily through my nose—preventing her from going any further. “Ari.”
It’s a warning. One she doesn’t heed to.
“Let me,” she says desperately, searching my eyes. “I’ve thought about it for so long now, Boston. Please, let me.”
“Don’t beg me for this,” I grumble, my grip tightening on her hand. I lean down, pressing my mouth to hers in a hard, brief kiss. “It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, sweetheart. Trust me. We can’t go down this road for a million different reasons. I’m never going to be that guy for you.”
Her thumb brushes against the length of me and I shoot her a look, sucking in a breath and forcing myself not to react.
“What guy?”
“The guy that you need. The one you bring home to Mom. I’m never getting married, I’m never having kids, and it’s not like we do this once and we’ll go our separate ways. We’re not getting rid of each other anytime soon. I don’t want to be the guy that does this to your brother.”
Because you are Forker’s sister. You’re going to be around forever, even if you leave the city.
You are a woman who will get married, have kids, and make some man the luckiest guy on the planet.
That’s not someone I’ll ever be. I don’t want those things.
She can date all the losers she wants, but it’s always been clear she dreams of the white picket fence at the end of the day, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
The rooftop told me all that I needed to know.
She smiles up at me, showing me those pretty, white teeth. “You’re in luck. I happen to prefer my men emotionally unavailable.”
For fuck’s sake. I am not making it out of this alive.
“I’m going to drop to my knees now,” she tells me, unbuttoning my pants and yanking down the fly.
She pauses and purses her lips in request, and like a fucking idiot, I kiss her like she’s asking me to.
She’s beaming when I pull away. “I’ve been dying to know how you look when you come, by the way. ”
“Jesus,” I hiss, and that line is what sends my willpower out the window. Ari goes to drop to her knees, but I hold her up by her arm, preventing her from doing so. The look of disappointment she gives me is instant. “Hold on.”
I shrug off my jacket, placing it neatly on the floor beneath us.
Her eyes light up, glowing bright under the horrible fluorescent lights of a room she deserves better than.
She shoots me a look that I’m too horny to decipher, and I offer my hand.
She takes it, letting me guide her onto her knees in those shoes she’s eventually going to break her neck in.
She’s tearing down my pants within seconds. She leans up, meeting my eyes through her lashes, and dips her head, licking a long strip up my aching length through the fabric of my briefs.
My body tenses. My cock stirs to life. I am going to have a heart attack.
This is such a fucking bad idea.
Ariana reaches up, her white fingernails curling along the waistband of my underwear. She slowly lowers them over my dick and down my thighs.