Chapter 21 #2
In fact, all the Mendez brothers dance to the beat perfectly. Luis can, too. He now dances with his date, Julia. I can see where they get it from. Luis has her in full-on salsa mode, and he’s a damn good leader.
Rio and I fall into the rhythm without speaking or looking at each other.
It should make it easier that we don’t touch. But the balcony kiss floods back into my mind. I can’t stop thinking about touching him again, about the way his body felt pressed against mine, about the weight and warmth of his large palm cupping my hip.
I’m aware of him in a way that feels completely disproportionate to what’s actually happening. We’re not touching. There’s space between us, intentional, carefully maintained, like we both agreed to it without saying a word. Hell, we could be total strangers right now; there’s so little connection.
But why doesn’t he want to connect? How is it that I’m burning alive with illogical desire and he’s casually two-stepping next to me, staring out at the sea of heads?
Why does it feel like he’s already moved on when I can’t?
He’s steady beside me, as if nothing happened out there. Is that just how he kisses everyone? For him, that kiss was just another box ticked.
Why does it bother me?
I can’t afford to give a shit about whether he got off kissing me or not.
We dance next to each other, but we might as well not be here together. He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t close the gap. Doesn’t even glance in my direction.
Ugh.
How can I be here fantasizing about slotting myself into this life, hell, into his bed, because of one stupid kiss, and he’s so damn casual?
It’s hurtful. And though I know I need therapy to sort this out, hurt always gives way to anger.
I set my lips in a straight line and try to look as disinterested as he does, but when this song is over, I’m finding someone else to dance with.
Bodies fold in closer behind me, but I hold my ground so I don’t have to get any closer to the way Rio smells, all musk, soap and sexy man. I don’t want any closer to those strong shoulders, filling a tux like a goddamn model.
But then, someone bumps into me—barely a touch—I turn to see some guys from GhostEye, including Brad, who offers an incredibly apologetic oops face and immediately makes space between us.
Before I can even think, Rio’s hand lands on my waist, pulling me in just enough that the space I was holding disappears in an instant. The heat and weight of his palm sears right through my dress, and my breath catches before I can stop it.
Why do I like him touching me so much? I shouldn’t want this, and my mind knows better, but my body yearns for more. I’ve never wanted things I’m not meant to have.
I manage to quirk a defiant eyebrow. “Whoa, cowboy,” I say, quiet enough to stay between us, “You really can’t get enough of me, can you?” And before I can overthink it, I throw out a line hoping I’ll see if he felt anything at all. “First the kiss, now this?”
“Just selling the dream, Princess,” he quips.
“Your dream,” I shoot back, defensively. “My nightmare.”
It’s a lie. That kiss felt like anything but a nightmare, but I will never let him know that.
“Don’t worry,” he says, voice low. “I’ll put us both out of our misery as fast as I can and get this over and done with.”
His comment slaps me across the face with rejection.
“Oh, thank God,” I huff, petulant, suddenly feeling like a loser. “Please tell me I don’t have to sit next to you on the bus after this.”
“I think we’ve both played enough for one night,” he says smoothly.
Played? That’s what that was to him, now I know for sure. I was wrong about the whole thing out there on the balcony. I’m so naive and gullible. Embarrassment grips my throat, making it tight and uncomfortable.
I slip out of his hold. “I need the ladies’ room.”
The music follows me out, loud at first, pressing into my back, then fading with every step I take until it dulls into something distant and muffled. By the time I hit the hallway, it feels like it belongs to a different night entirely.
Cooler air greets me. Softer light. No voices. Just the hollow echo of my heels against the floor. I slow my steps as I put distance between us, breathing heavily to push away the tears that prick at my eyes.
God, get it together, Delilah. It was just a kiss. That’s it.
This is what happens when you start feeling safe. You let your guard down and start falling for men who are selfish and cold.
No.
Rio might be cold, but he isn’t selfish.
I wince at the thought of liking and respecting any part of him. This was easier when I all out hated him.
I’ve just had too much champagne, that’s all. Too much noise, too much proximity, too much of everything. Of course it felt good to kiss an attractive man. That just makes me normal.
Tomorrow I won’t even remember half of it, and whatever this is right now will feel ridiculous.
I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly as I keep walking, forcing my pace to even out.
I need air. Maybe some water. A minute to reset and I’ll be fine.
The further I go, the quieter it gets, the sound of the party thins until it’s nothing but a faint pulse behind me. The hallway stretches out, empty, the kind of empty that feels like a space no one’s paying attention to.
I round the corner—and walk straight into someone.
A hand catches my arm before I can stumble back, firm enough to stop me in place.
“Sorry—” I start automatically.
Except something strange happens.
Whoever it is doesn’t let go of my arm.
I lift my gaze. It’s just a waiter. But there’s something wrong in the way he considers me. It’s as if he knows me.
My stomach drops. I think I know him, too.
I’ve seen him before. I swear I have.
The waiter still grips my arm, firm but not painful. Why is he not letting go?
Where have I seen him? My blood cools when my gaze lands on a neck tattoo. FTW. Is this the rider who was standing at the door at Luther’s house?
Everything inside me screams to run or to kick him in the balls.
“Excuse me,” I say, sharply, yanking my arm back.
He lets go. I don’t wait for him to say anything.
I turn and head straight back the way I came, hurried steps, my pulse climbing with every click of my heels. I can feel him behind, following closely… Luther knows I’m here?
The music swells again as I reach the edge of the party, noise and bodies rushing back in around me, and I race to where Rio stands at the edge of the room, waiting for me.
His eyes find mine instantly, and everything in his face changes. His ease drops away and is replaced with something fierce.
I don’t slow down, running straight to him, and his hands come up to my arms to hold me steady.
“What happened?” He’s already scanning past me as he asks it.
My voice shakes. “We need to leave.”
That’s all it takes. His body shifts closer, just enough to shield without making a scene, one hand sliding from my arm to the small of my back as he turns us both toward the exit.
No questions.
No hesitation.
Within seconds, we’re outside, the night air cold on my skin. A black sedan pulls up like it’s been waiting for him.
For us.
Rio opens the door, guiding me in first, his hand firm at my back, not letting go until I’m inside. Silence drops into place like a lid.
I stare straight ahead, my pulse still racing, my body only just starting to catch up with what just happened.
They know where I am.
I should have left days ago. We’re not that much closer to finding the women, and now I’ve been found. It won’t be hard for them to know I’m at the ranch. Surely, Luther’s man saw me run to Rio?
I’m in deeper trouble than before.
We all are.