Nine #2
I wonder if he even has it in him to be rude.
He smiles at everyone who smiles at him, talks to everyone who talks to him, looks like he’s actually listening, like he actually cares.
He leaves Imani and Brendan at the bar to dance with Matilda near the live band tucked away in the corner, and as some girls mosey on over, my stomach clenches.
I wait for it to go a little beyond friendly, for hands to wander, for that smile to turn slick, for all the signs I dismissed in Ben because .
. . well, I don’t actually know why. I just did.
Over-confidence, maybe. Disbelief that he would actually cheat on me.
I wait and I wait and I wait, but it never happens. Heath doesn’t so much as touch another girl. Jesus, more than once, I watch his lips form my name, while he jabs a finger in my direction.
I don’t know what else to do but laugh. Gaze. Sit here with stars in my fucking eyes, burning up from the inside out.
‘You like him.’
I glance at Kai as he flops into the booth – and brings the stench of the cigarettes a D1 athlete should most definitely not be smoking – with raised brows and a faintly amused smile. ‘I do tend to like the people I date.’
A boisterous laugh splutters out of him as his gaze pointedly flicks to where Ben is with his own friends, where he sulks, and though I see a million quips flit through Kai’s brain, none come out. ‘You really like him.’
‘Is that so shocking?’
‘A little. I’m not gonna lie, at first, we really thought this was, like, a game or something. You getting back at Ben.’
My stomach twists uncomfortably. ‘Sounds vindictive.’
‘If the shoe fits, Cinderella.’
‘Am I, like, the boogeyman of Cove College or something?’
‘Siren,’ he reminds me with a wink. ‘I’m just trying to say that I’m happy it’s real. That you’re looking at him like that. God knows he’s waited long enough.’
‘Yeah, he seems real desperate for female attention.’
‘One female’s attention.’
Something odd slithers around in my gut – something green. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
I don’t get to find out – Heath appears before his best friend can spill any sordid details, and I forget about the thing I won’t dare to call jealousy because Heath, all of that presence, chases it away.
‘Stop conspiring with my girl,’ he demands of his friend, though those pretty eyes remain steadfastly fixed on me.
‘Conspiring?’ Kai huffs, throwing out another wink as he slips a heavy, sweaty arm around my shoulders and squeezes. ‘We’re bonding. Right, Dani?’
Fighting a grimace, I gingerly pinch his wrist between my thumb and forefinger and peel him off me. ‘Practically joined at the hip.’
‘I can feel the love.’ Snickering, Heath plants both palms on the table and stoops until we’re eye-level. ‘Come dance with me.’
Faking a frown, I cast a glance over each of my shoulders, humming with mock surprise when I find no one lurking. ‘Oh.’ I face Heath again, eyes wide. ‘You’re talking to me? I thought a member of your fanclub was lurking.’
‘Ha ha.’ Kissing his teeth, he dances his fingers across the tabletop and snags my hand. ‘C’mon, smartass.’
‘I don’t dance, carino.’
‘Not even with me?’
My eyes roll away from the adorable pout that I fear might actually have some kind of magical power over me – and they just so happen to land on a different pout, a far more vexed one, right as its owner streaks past us.
And just like that, an idea sparks.
‘Actually.’ I slip Heath’s grip only to assert my own, clutching his wrist as I wriggle out of the booth. ‘I have a better idea.’
Leaving Kai cat-calling behind us, I drag Heath in my ex-boyfriend’s wake, into the narrow, dark hallway that leads to the smoking area out back. Fresh air still lingers, the door is still swinging, and I guess we have about ten minutes before Ben stomps back inside.
And I waste a whole thirty seconds second-guessing my plan.
‘Is this where you seduce me?’
My cheeks flush.
Heath fucking lights up. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘You said we need to up the ante, right?’
‘I did.’
‘We want him inconsolable, right?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘So—’
‘Jesus, Dani, just kiss me already.’
My eyes narrow. ‘You kiss me.’
He doesn’t need to be asked twice.
In the blink of an eye, he’s all over me.
And, for a second, I’m back at the beach.
It’s that night again, the catalyst for all of this, and I am getting the shit kissed out of me by Heath fucking Belfort.
Except, unlike that kiss, this one doesn’t end almost as suddenly as it begins.
This one doesn’t start a crescendo that quickly falls flat, and it isn’t drunken and foolish and sloppy.
Heath kisses me like he’s been thinking about it all night.
Like all he does is imagine pressing his lips to mine, tangling his hands in my hair, and shoving me up against a wall with the kind of enthusiasm that makes a girl tremble.
My mouth opens on a gasp, and his groan is nothing short of stark relief as he takes advantage of my parted lips, slips his tongue between them, and I briefly, madly wonder if this whole deal was actually orchestrated by some deprived, depraved part of me who simply wanted to make out with him again.
He’s just making it look real, I remind myself. That’s why I’m kissing him back so emphatically too. We’re committing to the bit. Just extremely dedicated in our efforts to cause Ben severe psychological—
‘Oh, fuck.’ He bites my fucking neck, right above my fluttering pulse, soothing the sting with a wet lick. I didn’t know I liked that. Jesus, who am I kidding? I didn’t know I liked kissing, not this much. He only abandons my mouth for a second and I whine, I drag him back up, I’m greedy.
His smirk is scalding. His forehead too, burning where it touches mine. ‘The kiss and touch clause is still anywhere?’
‘That’s what I said, isn’t it?’
‘Just checking,’ he mutters hoarsely, along with a thank fucking God that makes my breath catch almost as much as another kiss does.
A hard kiss. A sure kiss. The complete opposite to touches that remain hesitant and light and frustrating.
‘C’mon, Belfort.’ I nip his bottom lip. ‘Commit.’
Something akin to a growl rumbles in the back of his throat, and then, fuck, is he committing.
He’s all over me, everywhere, nibbling my jawline and the notch of my throat and my collarbone, skimming over my chest until his teeth catch the neckline of my dress.
Eyes flick up to meet mine, like he’s checking for further permission that I give with a jerky nod.
And then, those teeth are sinking into the swell of my breast instead. Leaving a mark.
A claim.
It feels a little too damn good so I close my eyes, I try to get a damn grip – Heath gets a fucking grip, a grip on my thigh and my ass, and, suddenly, my leg is hooked around his waist, his thigh has slotted between mine, and I gasp at the pressure.
I gasp as it hits me with startling, wet, hot clarity how turned on I am.
I gasp so loud, it echoes off the fucking walls.
Abruptly, Heath pulls away.
‘Fuck.’ His eyes seal shut, his head shaking, his breath coming in broken pants – my breath comes in broken pants too, we pant into each other’s mouths. We’re still close enough to share breath. ‘Fuck, sorry.’
I don’t say anything. I don’t quite have the capacity for words, nor do I actually know what to say when a man apologizes for kissing you.
For kissing you in a way that most definitely does not require apologies.
Maybe I should be apologizing. Maybe I did something wrong.
Maybe something really eloquent was about to leave my parted lips, but I guess we’ll never know because someone else’s parted lips beat me to it.
‘What the fuck?’