Chapter 33
Pen
After a couple of hours, the guys get a half-hour break and they come to spend time with us. I watch Leon approach, his eyes fixed on me.
Are you good?
I'm good.
You sure?
He doesn't stop until he's a breath away. I have to lift my face to gaze at him. He stares at me with a serious look.
"Say something?" I whisper.
"Are your parents having fun?" he asks.
I scoff. "Not that!"
But he chuckles and kisses my temple. "We're good, Pen. We'll talk tonight."
"For the first time ever, I wish we didn't plan to go to the club with everyone."
"We don't have to stay for long. We'll figure it out. Tell your parents not to wait for us. Just in case."
I nod. He kisses my cheek this time, before bringing me close in a side hug.
Probably for pretense, seeing as my parents are right there, but I take it as comfort regardless.
His pheromones invade my brain, and remind me this is the same man I saw grow up.
He won't get scared because my body has needs.
My dad is already chatting up the rest of the group.
"I don't really watch sports except for fútbol," he says. "You know, the real one. Not American Football. But this is making me change my mind!"
"Papá!" I complain. "Don't do that."
Damián laughs. "It's all good. This is real football, too, just not what the rest of the world thinks when it comes to it."
"Did you know she kicks the ball really well?" My dad grins at Damián. "The round ball, though. Not this one."
"Papá." My tone is more scolding now. "Damián is a professional kicker. All I did was punt the ball at a makeshift soccer goal."
"With me trying to stop it," Leon says.
"You played soccer?" Logan asks.
Bear shakes his head. "Not really. I played goalie for the Duartes for a few summers."
"It gave him his reflexes!" Mom says.
"Now he stops big men coming at me." Logan smirks. "I see the connection."
Eventually, the guys have to return to their packed minicamp schedule and Evie takes us back inside into the building.
She shows us the rest of the facilities, before we all go out for dinner at a restaurant.
Our significant others are too busy to join us for a meal, but it doesn't change our plans for the night.
That's why I take my parents home, convince them to take it easy, and I hide in the secluded principal bedroom to change.
Dressing up for the club and feeling pretty will give me some of the confidence I need.
I choose a tight, short, ruched black skirt, and a lacy, pastel pink, cropped tank top with a deep V.
I add a long, thin necklace, and a burgundy pleather jacket.
Between the clothes, the jewelry, and the beachy waves I do on my hair, I go into the club with a pep in my step.
Bear and I will figure things out tonight.
At this point, club staff recognize me and let me in with no issues.
I climb the stairs to the VIP mezzanine, to find most of the group already there, at the end of the space.
This time, when I lock eyes with Bear, I smile.
His lips curl at the corners, too, as he makes room for me to sit next to him.
I greet everyone with little waves hello, but my attention is really on Leon. He wears what seems like faded, distressed gray jeans, a white Henley, and a deep blue overshirt. In other words, he looks amazing.
"Everything okay?" he asks my way.
When his smell reaches me, all I can do is nod and grab the cushion for balance.
"You're here alone, Dom?" Saint asks nearby.
The purple recessed lights in this section give us enough light as usual, while keeping the intimate feeling.
Here in the corner of the mezzanine we get some extra privacy.
On one side, we have the balcony overlooking the people dancing below.
On the other, booths and general sitting areas.
Deep bass reaches us from the dance floor below and, I don't know what kind of architectural tricks make this possible, but we're protected from the loud music up here.
Beats and rhythm surround us, but it's mild enough we can still hear each other clearly.
Logan and Evie, and Saint and Ames sit with Dom next to us. Damián and Nat are not here tonight, as they had other commitments. Leon and I complete the group.
I'm at the edge, almost hidden by Leon's size. I lean forward to watch the conversation.
Dom crosses his arms. "Yep."
"That's new," Evie says.
"Can't a man want to have an easy night for once?" Dom's raised eyebrow tries to be challenging, but no one seems to mind it too much.
Logan smirks. "I'd say dating has never seemed to make your nights difficult."
"In fact," Leon says, "From the looks of it, you were having a grand old time. I wonder what might have changed? Any bets, everyone?"
That gets a few chuckles from the group, including from me.
Bear directs a small smile at me, and pats my thigh with his big hand.
And he leaves it there.
Dom groans. "Don't laugh at poor old me. I'm the only single one here. I could use some compassion."
Some in the group snort, others laugh.
All I do is stare at Bear's large hand on my thigh.
His thumb makes passes on my skin, waking up nerve endings I didn't even know I had there.
It's nothing more than simple arches, back and forth, but they leave fire in their wake.
From one point on my leg, running through my body, until it feels like every other cell impatiently waits for their turn.
More touch. More Leon. More.
But Dom's words echo in my head.
I'm the only one single here.
The group keeps talking, but I hide behind Leon. I glance at him. His profile has a roughened line to it, with his slightly bumpy nose and thick beard. His tattoos peek through the neck of his clothes and, if I follow a path down his arm, ink teases me past his sleeves as well.
Now his thumb is making circles on my skin and I don't know if I missed something, but it feels like his hand is higher on my leg. Just a little move and his pinky could go under the edge of my skirt.
I glance at him again. He's laughing with our friends.
They tease Dom about Mariana, giving me plenty of space to lose myself in the way Bear touches me.
When his pinky gets under my skirt, I feel it.
All the way up my back. It arches. Tingles— an awareness— something crawls all over, and it begs me to press my legs together, so I might get some friction where I need it most. I would do a lot to get this sudden feeling to build and crest and set me free.
And it's all because Bear is using his fingers to tease me, and might not even know it.
A few people come up to the mezzanine, from the stairs all the way at the other end. Their eyes go to the men around me and skip right over me. Perfect. I need privacy to stare at Leon's hand on my thigh.
The movements seem mindless, like some unconscious part of his brain is drawn to the texture of my clothes… or to my skin. His fingertips make little adjustments with each pass, somehow ending just a little higher again, and now his pinky is inches away from my panties.
We are in public and I don't care. There are people close enough nearby that they would only need to actually pay attention to me, wedged between a tufted booth corner and a big man, and see what he's doing to me. I'd let them. I don't want him to stop.
Actually, maybe I should care about being caught.
I nudge a small golden, circular table with my free foot, to help cover the evidence.
Whatever he's doing— whatever I'm letting him do— is going to have big consequences for us.
I wouldn't want our indiscretions photographed and ending up online.
I'm too busy dealing with my feelings to deal with the results of that.
I'm the only one single here, Dom said.
The man is wrong, but I see how he'd think that. Even if everyone in the group knows the marriage is fake, it for sure doesn't look like it these days.
I gulp and look away. Just this morning, Leon came from sucking my fingers clean. I shiver and close my eyes.
It could end in such a mess. One day, when he's missing the kind of love he seeks in his favorite shows, he'll go searching for someone who looks at him and thinks of candlelit dinners and romcom heroes…
and she won't believe him that our marriage was platonic.
At this point, there's too much evidence to the contrary.
He may reassure her we were faking, but would she believe him?
I'm the best friend everyone warns themselves about. And I'm not sure I'm faking anymore…
Damn. Accepting his touch risks that future for him. It's a problem, really, when the ancient parts of my brain that crave sex are sure making me cry for his touch. I tremble. His pinky digs into the plush line where my thighs meet, and I become so wet I'm sure my underwear is getting drenched.
I stare at the ceiling, then toward the stairs, then at the people around us.
Nothing gets processed. Bear and the rest of the group chat about something else, but I've lost track.
They've left me to myself, by some miracle, but it won't last long.
I'm still hidden behind Bear's wide shoulders, but I should get my phone out or find something to do with my hands.
I need an alibi. Plausible deniability, so I can't get called out.
Any second now, and someone might point out how I'm literally sitting still while watching my husband do things with his hand on my thigh. Except I don't. I'm enthralled.
I gulp. His hand is halfway hidden by my skirt now. His ring finger— where his wedding band lives— is so deep into this journey that it is completely covered in fabric. I'm not feeling like that ring is there for pretend. It's all my body's fault.
I shiver again. Gooseflesh appears under Bear's hand. I clench on nothing. My lungs work like I sprinted a mile. I'm biting my lips like I need to stop a moan.
Shit. I'm in a horny panic.
Saint invites Ames to dance. Logan, Evie, and Dom talk to each other. I'm about to fan myself, but I don't fight what's going on. I glance at Leon. His hand has stopped moving, now that he stares at it, like he's surprised by it too.
He must feel the weight of my eyes on him. He gazes at me.
"Still not uncomfortable?" he asks in a gravelly voice.
"Not uncomfortable," I reply.
My voice— it's shaky.
He studies my face. "Is your body still… needing…?"
That hand of his. He pushes it deeper in between my thighs. It keeps him an inch away from my panties, but it doesn't matter. My body reads it like he's about to have me for a feast.
The tiniest, softest, most frustrated sound makes it out my throat. Fuck, I'm turned on.
I don't respond. I wrap his wrist in both hands and bring it up a notch. He frowns. Stares at my leg hard.
He squeezes my flesh. "I take that as a yes."
What did Bear say about despair? That it makes the reward sweeter. Maybe that's why my body is acting like this. It's needing something sweet and free after so long.
"I've never felt this much before," I confess.
"Never felt before with me…" His free hand cups my face. The other one doesn't move. "Or at all?"
I grind my teeth. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by my traitorous body.
"Pen. Are you thinking about sex with me?"