Chapter 21 Skylar
Skylar
The after-party is a lot like a music video. A massive, chaotic dance floor, bodies grinding on each other, a stage with a famous DJ, flashing lights, drinks passed around by decked-out waiters, and private booths for the famous.
So. Much. Alcohol.
I’m not sure how long I can stick this out. The flashing lights make me feel like I could have a seizure, and my earplugs barely dampen the bass vibrating my bones as we plow through the crowd.
I’ve lost count of how many people have approached Pike, stunned, to thank him for his contributions to snowboarding. I’ve spotted a few actors, a musician who judges a singing competition show, and endless beautiful people.
Pike slides a possessive hand to my hip as we make our way to his crew’s reserved area, the warmth of his body keeping me steady. We survived the interview and awards show. After this party, it’s over. The pretending. The fake dating. What’ll be left of us tomorrow?
We reach his crew’s booth, and they immediately order more drinks. Pike shrugs out of his suit jacket. He rolls up his sleeves, and I have to sit on my hands to keep from touching his veined forearms. I miss remission, when a little alcohol would give me some liquid courage when it came to men.
Jax throws back a shot. “Let’s dance!”
I stay seated and glance at Pike.
“You go,” he says quickly. “I’m gonna rest my legs.”
He sits back, actually expecting me to leave him alone. I know I danced with Jax yesterday, but that was when Pike was talking to Grace.
“I want to stay with you.”
“Aw,” Jax says. “You take care of my boy, then. I’ll see you two later.” He struts away, high-fiving the guy dancing with Grace before disappearing into the crowd.
“Sorry.” Pike plays with his cane. “My knees didn’t hurt that much before, but after those stairs…”
“Don’t apologize.”
“I wish I could still dance, though. With you.”
I’m surprised by the admission. And the dejection in his posture. He’s been a cool cucumber all night, even though I know he’s hurting—not just physically.
I would like to distract him. I’d like him to enjoy himself. And if I’m reading him right, I think I know what might do the trick. Even if it would normally require liquid courage first.
“Then let’s dance,” I say.
He grimaces. “I know I danced yesterday, but my legs—”
“I’m not questioning your abilities.” I get up. “Come with me.”
“I don’t think—”
“Trust me,” I say, extending my hand.
He takes it, albeit cautiously, and I lead him to a different area, further from the dance floor.
It’s a little quieter and more sensual, with silky, see-through curtains acting as separators, creating semiprivate lounge areas.
Each space features plushy ottomans that probably serve a much different purpose from what I have in mind.
I part the curtains to an empty section.
“You want to rest?” Pike asks.
“No, I want to dance.”
“Here? Skylar, my legs.”
I urge him onto a deep-purple ottoman, then lean down and plant my hands on his thighs. “You sit. I’ll stand.”
Not letting go, I find the beat to a Pitbull remix and sway my hips a little. I hold his gaze and watch comprehension—and intrigue—dawn in his intense eyes.
Before I got sick, I loved going out to dance with friends. When I give him a shoulder shimmy, Pike’s megawatt smile bursts across his face, the first I’ve seen all evening.
I wink. “That’s an advanced move, I know.”
He laughs, quick and dirty, sending a thrill up my spine.
I keep moving to the same rhythm and watch his eyes grow cloudier.
He’s trying hard not to stare at my chest, which, to be fair, I’m flaunting right in front of his face.
I let go of his legs and slowly straighten, accentuating the roll of my hips.
There’s been an ache deep in my core the whole night. He teased me all day. He kissed me like he owned every one of my heartbeats. Time to show him I’m not shy about what I want either.
I’m almost his height this way, so I treat him to a seductive pivot like I would on the dance floor, giving him a view I hope he enjoys.
I glance over my shoulder and find his eyes pinned exactly where I want them.
This time, his laugh is softer, but he doesn’t even pretend to look away.
His restraint is slipping, and I love being the reason.
I grind down toward his lap. Just as I brush against him, I pull back, moving in a slow arc. I work my way up, then turn around to face him. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”
Pike’s mouth parts. “You didn’t tell me ‘dancing’ meant ‘lap dancing.’”
“If this were a lap dance, you wouldn’t be allowed to touch me.”
The tortured look in his eyes is a reward I didn’t know I was chasing all night.
He scoots to the edge, his legs splaying wide, and pulls me between them with a commanding grip on my hips.
I start to move again, my senses sharpened by the way we’re now connected.
His body shifts beneath mine, following the rhythm.
I’m acutely aware of him and how his hands hold me in place but also let me take the lead.
His gaze never leaves me. There’s something raw in the way he watches that makes my chest tighten.
I think he wants me as much as I want him.
The air between us grows charged with all the unspoken things I wish we’d say.
I keep dancing, aware that people could be watching.
A part of me is scared we’ll end up online somewhere, but all I care about right now is the way Pike’s fingers flex against me like he’s barely holding himself back.
The tension between us is stretched too tight, and I’m eager to see what it’ll take to snap.
When the song ends, he doesn’t let go. We stay there, moving together, until another song starts. And another. Every nerve in my body sings. His hands slide down but always stop too high, too gentlemanly. I need more.
I turn around. Press myself closer.
Pike captures my waist, drawing me flush against him until I sink down onto him fully. I lean back and close my eyes. His clean scent envelops me as he holds me tight.
This is what I wanted, but it’s too much. Too consuming. I need more friction. I need his hands running over the length of my body while his teeth graze my skin.
I roll my hips experimentally. Feel what I’m doing to him. A low groan escapes his lips.
I reach over my shoulder and find the nape of his neck. “Pike.”
His warm breath ghosts over my cheek. “Who’s this show for, sweetheart?”
“Why, are you enjoying it?”
“I’m not the only one. These curtains don’t leave much to the imagination, so unless you want everyone knowing how hard I am watching you…” Pike’s mouth this close makes goose bumps spread over my skin. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”
My heart hammers out of my chest. “Please.”
Pike sets me back on my feet. My thighs shake from the workout I just got, and the sudden change in position shoots a bolt of pain down the back of my head as he tugs me back to the booth, his warm palm covering mine.
When we find the rest of the crew to say our goodbyes, Jax drapes an arm over Pike’s shoulders, his breath riddled with vodka. “This is my best friend in the whole wide world. He can’t leave again.”
Pike tries to untangle himself for a good ten minutes, but eventually, we resign ourselves to Jax tagging along and head to the car. During the short ride, he rests his head on Pike’s shoulder, reiterating how much he’s missed him.
Jax is a cute drunk, all affection and no filter, and Pike’s softness with him is sweet, though his timing could use some work.
I take a moment to bask in the quiet and close my eyes.
The invisible vise around my head tightens, and the pain sends a prickle of anxiety down my spine, an autopilot system meant to warn me about the implications of overdoing it.
I hate how I can never enjoy myself without having to worry.
At the hotel, Pike slips the driver some cash. “Can you make sure he gets back to the club?”
“Noo,” Jax slurs. “Let’s get a drink for the good old days. Minibar!” He skips to the elevator.
“Er,” Pike says, “I forgot we have separate rooms. Could you—would you mind coming back to mine with me?”
“We were going to end up together in a room anyway. Can I rest in your bed until he leaves?”
“In my bed?” he echoes. I shiver at the way his expression darkens, as if he’s only just remembering why we’re up here in the first place. “Yes. Yes, good. He’ll leave soon.”
In the elevator, Jax plays with an empty tube of chocolate candies. “One time, Macken dared us to board naked.”
I smile to myself. “There seem to be a lot of stories about Pike naked.”
“Remember when you got frostbite on your ass? Where was that again?”
Pike rubs the space between his eyes. “Davos.”
Jax puts his arm around Pike as we reach our floor. “I miss you, man.”
“I miss you, too, buddy, but I can’t walk with you hanging on me.” He indicates his cane.
“It’s such a shame.” Jax’s raspy voice grows husky. “Isn’t it a shame?”
“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad.” Pike swipes his key card. “Listen, I’m tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? You and I are having brunch.”
“Oh, yeah!”
“So, we’ll see each other tomorrow?”
“But. I need my wingman.” Jax has a gorgeous, pouty smile, and if he were directing it at me, I’m not sure I’d be able to turn him away either.
“You haven’t needed me as a wingman in a long time,” Pike says.
I hide my laughter as Jax heads straight for the minibar. Pike snatches the liquor out of his hand.
“If you still want to drink, you and Macken can get another round at the party.”
“Macken’s bo-ring.”
“I won’t tell him you said that.”
“If you hadn’t had your accident…if it were the good old days, you’d still be here.”
“Jax. I can’t have this conversation with you again. Things are different, but—”
“I miss you, man.”
“I miss you too,” Pike says, and Jax starts the hug fest all over again.