Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
CORA
Ismiled inanely at the media crew, pretending to laugh at yet another not-funny joke the journalist in front of me made and didn’t pretend to look for Valentine.
Not here. Still.
Or again. But Coach was, leaning his gray headed frame against the bar, looking completely out of place in jeans, a dark blue shirt and scowl that matched no one else in the club.
I couldn’t work out what was worse: the fact that Coach was left on babysitting duty for the night, or that after all the intimacy and show ponying that we shared earlier in the afternoon, Valentine stood me up.
That’s what you get for falling for your not-fling of two days, Cora.
The little voice in the back of my head promised me that I was insane for getting involved in the workplace romance—sexmance?—that I swore I never would in the first place. And of all Chimeras, I’d chosen Valentine. Or rather, he had chosen me.
I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted by that last or not, but here we were and… It appeared that I had chosen him right back.
More than chosen for the way that I ignored the media crew I had, somewhat stupidly, agreed to drinks with after my little performance outside the Chimera’s office this afternoon. Stupid, because Valentine had been in my space at the time and my brain refused to function correctly around him.
But also because I was supposed to be picking the brain of this group for why they had targeted the Chimeras when they had left the team alone for so long.
Pure boredom? Collusion on a slow print week?
I didn't understand it when the woman made no statement and all we had was Valentine escorting a woman, albeit battered, from the club. This club, as it happened.
I placed my drink back on the table and rose.
“Not thirsty?” Peatie, my usually-tame media spy, appeared at my side on cue. “Atmosphere’s a bit low for now. Should be pumping later!”
So was he—jacked up on something. The dilated pupils gave it away if his loud voice and hyper attitude didn’t.
I shrugged, needing to get away from him and this afternoon's bad choices as soon as I could. “Not right now, Peatie,” I muttered, pushing forward, between him and another journalist who watched me thoughtfully. A hand landed on my arm as I made my escape, halting me mid step.
I froze and looked back, pasting a fake smile across my face. “I’m just headed for the loo.”
“Sure. But you’re the girl who gave the speech this afternoon. That took some balls. Kudos to you.” He watched me carefully.
I watched him, back and very slowly extracted my arm. “Thanks.”
Peatie speed talked all the way to the bar where I left him, still chattering to Coach who looked like he was ready to rip[ me a new one. Even I wasn’t sure if Peatie knew the difference between Coach and me at this point.
“Where’s Valentine?” I mouthed to Coach, glancing over my shoulder as I scanned the club that was still sparsely enough populated that a giant hockey player couldn’t hide in the population.
I lied. Valentine would never hide in this crowd, or any other.
“No fucking idea,” Coach yelled in a moment of silence right between songs.
I closed my eyes and died a little death right on the spot. With my eyes still closed I turned around, hand headed for the toilets. One step and I ran smack into a warm, hard body, bumping my nose on what felt like a brick wall.
“Fu–ow,” I muttered. “Sorry.” I opened my eyes and sidestepped the blackout that refused to let me around.
“Cora. Where are you going?” An amused voice held me prisoner.
No wait, that was his hands grazing my hips.
“Uh. I was going to powder my….something?” I peeked up at Valentine through my lashes, willing myself not to cower before him.
At work, I wore work makeup. I wore a work suit and, apart from my stint donning his jersey, I wore only Chimera appropriate clothing.
Right now, nothing about me was appropriate whatsoever. And I made that choice knowingly and willing when I stepped outside my door.
Suddenly, the oversized blonde curls, the cropped blue leather jacket zipped to my bust and my ice blue beaded mini dress with the deep v to my navel seemed like a really, really stupid idea.
Or maybe, from the way he surveyed my body in the slowest once over in history, possibly the most dangerous one.
“Do you really need to powder anything, Cora, or were you escaping?” Valentine asked in a low tone, though he blocked my path to the toilets.
“Escaping?” I squeaked my confession like a spring church mouse. “Still escaping,” I added hopefully in a more regular voice.
“No chance, Butterfly.”
His hand folded around my blue leather covered elbow, towing me back to the bar. Ward stood alone, no Peatie in sight, blessedly.
“Where’d your sidekick go?” I asked as Valentine released my arm and my voice returned to its usual volume.
Coach’s gaze slid between us, narrowing. “You ‘friend’ wandered off, talking to a chair.”
I frowned. “I don’t see a chair.”
Coach shrugged. “Neither could he.”
“That kinda night already, huh?” Valentine squeezed my arm again, and placed a bottle of water in front of me.
I tested the lid, smiling when I found it still screwed tight and uncracked. “Thank you.” I beamed at him.
“Wherever it takes. Who was your friend?” he asked curiously. “You have…interesting taste?”
I shrugged. “My media spy. Usually he feeds me interesting information but today he’s been a feature article in himself.
” Peatie’s hangover in the morning would be of epic proportions.
I didn’t envy the tomorrow version of himself, and I doubted he would either, if he had two brain cells that would rub together right now.
The club slowly filled, the Chimeras’ coach and Valentine blessedly creating a barrier around me.
“I think I'm supposed to be socializing,” I yawned, waving for a bartender.
Valentine’s frown was audible from where he stood a few feet back in an obvious attempt not to touch me in front of his coach. “I thought you weren’t drinking tonight.”
There was no judgement in his tone, simply a question, about my own judgement or my motives perhaps.
I sent him a bratty grin, wondering what he was like if I pushed him.
Hey, a girl needed hobbies. Leaning forward, I cupped my hands to disguise my order and yelled into the bartender’s ear.
I doubted Valentine heard me; the club’s volume took it up a notch the moment it turned eleven o’clock and well past all our bedtimes with a predawn start in a few hours.
Apparently Peatie wouldn't be the only one regretting tomorrow.
“What’s that about?” Valentine’s fingers traced the blue leather at my wrist.
Coach shook his head, muttering. “I’m going to bed. Don’t stay out late. Or go home together, for fuck’s sake. Next week, maybe,” he growled, glaring at us.
I laughed as my drink order arrived in a double shot glass.
Coach sent me a second exasperated look. Another was directed over my head I didn't bother to interpret, and walked away.
“Cora,” Valentine murmured in warning as I tested my shot glass and sighed.
I crooked a finger that I dipped into the dark, cold liquid. “Come here.” I wiggle the finger in the air, speaking to him loudly over the music as someone jostled me.
Warm hands slid beneath my jacket to hold me steady as Valentine regarded me with a steady gaze. “I don’t drink.”
“Trust me?”
His head cocked to one side, he opened his mouth. I smiled as I traced his bottom lip with my fingertip, then on impulse touched the tip of his tongue.
Warmth enveloped my finger as he sucked gently on the tip and suddenly my wardrobe choices were very obvious and really fucking bad.
Really bad.
“Jesus,” I whispered, not pulling my finger back as he cleaned the tip and released me.
I dropped my hand between us, watching his eyes. His pupils were blown wide with arousal and I knew mine would be the same.
“Cora,” he murmured my name.
Not that I heard him, but I read my name on his lips.
Lips I wanted on mine. On my body. Licking me.
I’m so gone for this man.
I gripped the zip on my jacket, suddenly glad Coach had left for the night, and pulled it down, wiggling my arms free. Valentine never moved his hands from my waist as I stripped my outer layer off, handing it to the bartender, leaving me in the dress I’d chosen, thinking it was cute and sexy.
The way he drank in the beaded, strapless dress with its plummeting v to my navel held up with some tape and my boobs, told me it was a mistake and that he was seconds away from mauling me at the bar.
I wiggled my butt. “I’m going to dance,” I said without yelling. My voice strained as I moved my mouth clearly for him to read my lips. “Are you coming with me, or are you going to watch?”
He waited a minute, so long I thought he might not answer me. That I’d scared him, or that he would reject me.
Valentine leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. “Both, Cora. Dance for me.”
I shivered as he squeezed my hand and let me lead him away from the bar. People who would have jostled me didn't. I followed in the wake that opened behind him, tucked away in the calm that he created. A shiver passed over me as the amount of pure trust that I put into this man slammed me.
Then he spun me into his chest, warmth pervading my front. I stared up at him, and everything, including the ability to breathe or think, was forgotten.
Valentine’s broad, strong hands skated over my hips, his touch so light as to not disturb the swinging beads on my dress. “Move for me,” his lips said as I read them through the pulsing beat even though I couldn't hear his words.