19. Jane
19
JANE
“ H ow did you know where to find me? Are you tracking me?” I do my best to pin him with a glare I hope is intimidating despite the unsteadiness I feel.
“I have my sources.”
The liquor slows my brain down, but it doesn't take long for me to realize. “Hayden knows about us?” There’s no way he would text Walker and risk raising any red flags.
Nikolai’s lips thin. “He’s had his suspicions for a while.”
“Nik—”
“I haven’t confirmed anything,” he says, raising his hands in defense. “But last summer, he definitely started putting some things together.”
“That’s just great.” I glance around us, but no one is paying us any mind in this little alcove in the VIP section. If Hayden knows, and Reid knows, it’s not going to take long for Walker to find out.
“He’s not going to say anything,” Nikolai says as if he can read my mind.
I pop my hip out. “You sure about that? Walker’s his best friend.”
“So am I. And you know Hayden. He minds his own business. He’s not about to stir the pot. That’s Reid’s job.”
And I’d bet the only reason Reid has never exposed our relationship and thrown it in my brother’s face is because it would hurt Nikolai. And as selfish as Reid can be, he’d do anything for Nikolai.
“What did he say when you asked him where we were?”
Nikolai leans back against the dark-colored wall. “He asked why I wanted to know and I said I was simply wanting to make sure you guys were safe.”
“And he bought that?” I deadpan.
A grin curls Nikolai’s mouth. “No, but I’m here, aren’t I? Plus, I think he knew that if I came here and found you, it wouldn’t be long that Carter would be heading home to him so it was a win-win for us both.”
“So what about when Scar gets home and tells Walker that you showed up at the club tonight? He’s not going to think that’s weird?”
Nikolai looks around dramatically. “Does it look like either of them are aware that I’m here?”
“They’ll notice when I don’t come back after I said I was grabbing another drink.”
Nikolai tilts his head and the movement causes a lock of hair to fall over his forehead. “You’re a smart girl, LJ. You’ll figure out a way to excuse yourself from them.”
“This is a girls night out.” I cross my arms and try to ignore the way that my stomach clenches at his arrogance. Fuck, I hate how attractive it is.
And I hate even more that I’m not as annoyed as I’m trying to show him at his presence. If anything, I feel more at ease under his eye and side by side with his presence. He’s always been a safe place for me, even before we were anything more than friends.
“It didn’t look like only girls' night while you were flirting with those guys.” His eyes flame in the low lighting as his words set me off balance.
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. No trying to play it cool. He outright admits it and it does something to me. Sets something off deep inside my stomach and explodes outward.
“What if I had plans to find them again tonight?” I step closer to him until our chests brush. With my heels, we’re eye level, and I tilt my head to the side innocently as I toy with him. “What if you’re too late?”
His hands wrap around my hips. “Your plans have changed.”
“You seem awfully confident about that. And may I remind you, you don’t tell me what to do.”
“And may I remind you”—his words brush over my cheeks as he leans in to speak into my ear—“that you used to love it when I told you what to do.” Goosebumps erupt over my arms and he doesn’t miss my body’s reaction. He smiles lazily as he pulls back.
“Now go find Scar and Carter and tell them you’re going home. Then come back up here and find me. I’ll be waiting over at the bar.”
With that, he drops his hands and strides away confidently, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if I’m doing what he instructed.
Because he knows I’m going to. That I want to.
Part of me wants to defy him. To go downstairs, join my friends, and leave him sitting up here by himself all night. Maybe I’ll even find another guy downstairs to dance with and make him watch what he can’t have.
But a larger part of me, the one clouded by alcohol and nostalgia, wants his hands back on my body.
So despite the warning bells going off in my mind, I head downstairs in search of my friends to excuse myself for the night exactly like he told me.
“Aren’t you worried about people spotting you here?” I ask Nikolai as we sit facing each other at the bar, our legs gridlocked. “Especially without your girlfriend?” Bitterness coats my tone but I don’t try to hide it.
Nikolai smiles. “Who’s the jealous one now?”
I ignore that. “All it takes is one photo of the two of us to have that image crash and burn.”
“With what phone is anyone going to take a photo? They confiscate them for everyone up here.”
“What do you mean?”
Nikolai leans in. “Believe it or not, LJ, but I’m not the only one in a fake relationship. But this up here,” he gestures, “people can bring whoever they want and trust that it’s not going to get splashed across the press tomorrow morning.”
My eyes dart around, searching for anyone I might recognize. Being around my brother and the band, I don’t get starstruck much anymore but curiosity has me giving everyone a once-over.
“How did I get to come up here then?”
Nikolai smirks. “I pulled some strings.”
“In like the hour between you finding out where I was and getting me up here?” I ask doubtfully.
“Being famous has to have some perks.”
Whatever. I don’t really care at this point. “Does Kerra know you’re here?”
“Why would she?”
“Because she’s your?—”
“Stop calling her my girlfriend.”
“Well, since your little debut at your show, that’s what she is.”
“Jane,” he chides, “stop acting like it’s something more than it is when you know for a fact it’s a ploy.”
“It doesn’t look like a ploy.”
“Well, I had to get your attention somehow.”
I rear back.
“And clearly it worked,” he continues. “I mean, how else was I supposed to get you to admit to yourself that you don’t want me with anyone else but you?” Vulnerability and arrogance mix in his voice, creating a dangerous combination that sets my heart racing.
“I…You?—”
He bites the inside of his cheek, choking down laughter at my inability to respond. I blame the alcohol.
“We can discuss this at a later time,” I conclude, sweeping my hair over to one side. Cool air hits my exposed shoulder and back and I breathe a sigh of relief. “This is not a discussion for a night out.”
He nods. “But this is a conversation we’re going to have. You’re not going to run from it.”
I scoff. “I’m not the one who runs from hard conversations, Nikolai.” Regret coats my tongue the moment I see the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I deserved that.”
He does, but also he doesn’t. I just can’t help it when the wounds he left me with reopen themselves when he gives me glimmers of hope that maybe there’s still a future for us.
“Are you going to buy me a drink?” I slap the counter top.
He cocks his head, grinning, before he turns his attention toward one of the bartenders. “I appreciate the bluntness. Let’s get fucked up.”
We alternate between talking and people watching as one drink turns to two turns to three. A strong buzz sits at the front of my mind but I know it has nothing to do with the way that I’m more relaxed. It’s Nikolai.
The way he squeezes my thighs absentmindedly as we talk and how his eyes soften at the corners when he listens to me. They sometimes dip down to check out the rest of my body but instead of the movement causing me to get inside my head, it gives me a boost because when he chews on his lip and meets my gaze again, I know he likes what he sees.
And my view isn’t too bad either. His long legs are encased in dark jeans that I know he tailored to fit him just right and I’m grateful that he takes the time to do that because I get the benefit of seeing them. He’s dressed in a simple white T-shirt, but he makes it look expensive.
I catch myself staring more than a few times at the veins in his arms and hands as he sips from his drink or pushes his loose hair from his forehead. God, he looks fucking effortless with each move. A silver necklace matches his favorite watch, along with a few rings on each hand. When he catches me drooling over his hands, I deflect and compliment him on them. He doesn’t buy it, but he also doesn’t call me out either.
The bartender drops off two tequila shots and Nikolai immediately pushes one my way.
“When did you order these?” I hadn’t noticed and I’m not drunk enough to have missed that.
“Telepathy,” he jokes and grabs the salt shaker. He scoots forward, leaning in until barely any space is between us and I’m overwhelmed by his familiar cologne. I’d recognize it anywhere and more often than I’d like to admit, I’ve gone into his bedroom when he’s gone just to smell the bottle.
The heat from his body radiates over me in waves and my breathing deepens. Sweat clings to the back of my neck and my hair sticks to it like glue. His eyes lock onto mine, holding them as captive as he has with my heart for nine years, and grabs my hand.
Time slows down, the thumping music fades out, and my vision tunnels in on him as he raises my hand to his mouth and licks a slow, long line across the top of it. I feel the movement echoing between my thighs.
My lips part on a gasp. What the hell is happening right now?
He pulls back and then sprinkles salt across the area he just utterly burned with his tongue. A smirk pulls up the side of his mouth as he watches me, too stunned and turned on to speak.
Without breaking my gaze, he once again licks my hand, this time picking up the line of salt as he goes, tosses back the shot, and then sucks on a lime wedge. Not a single flinch from the burn of the liquor or the sourness of the lime.
He’s calm, cool, and collected and it’s so fucking hot. A drop of tequila clings to his bottom lip and I lean forward, needing to wipe it away with my tongue and taste it from him.
But the asshole instead squeezes my legs and then pushes back, rising to his feet.
“What are you?—”
“Feel free to join me for a dance.” With a lazy smile that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing, he strides off toward the small dance floor on the second level here, leaving me panting in my stool like a dog in heat.
The strobe lights call my name as they swallow up Nikolai. Flashes of white and gold dance across the small crowd, making them look as if they’re moving in slow motion. It’s mesmerizing and intoxicating to the point where I know it’s not even worth fighting it.
Especially not after he just wound me up like that. A throb sits between my legs and my cheeks are hot to the touch. The longer I sit here and pretend like I’m debating about following Nikolai is only a punishment for myself.
Forgoing the salt and lime, I toss back the remaining shot and don’t even notice the burn as it goes down my throat. I hop off the stool, more steady in my heels than I probably should be between the desire and alcohol swirling in my brain.
I don’t allow myself to think as I cross over to the dance floor. Nikolai tracks me as I get closer, staying toward the perimeter like he didn’t want to take his eyes off me even when he came over here.
When I reach the edge, he holds out his hand. His eyes shine when the strobes hit them and I’m once again knocked off balance by his beauty.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” he yells over the music.
I take his hand, and he pulls me into the middle of the floor. “Shut up.”
He mockingly zips his lips, and I stifle a smile. This floor is a lot less crowded than the one below, so we actually have some breathing room as we begin to fall into the beat. “Nevada” by Vicetone thumps through the speakers, matching the heavy pulse in my stomach, and Nikolai grips my waist, pulling our bodies flush.
We move as one and it’s freeing as I allow him to guide us from one song to the next. He moves as effortlessly as he performs and part of me wishes I could be a fly on the wall right now watching us, watching him.
“Is there anything you’re bad at?” I joke.
“Not really.” He smirks, spinning me around and I come crashing back into his chest. I laugh, but the sound gets cut off as he flips me around so my back is to his front. Strong hands wrap around my hips as he pulls them flush to his and moves us together in time with the beat.
I place my hands on top of his, squeezing, clinging, clawing at them. My head falls back into the crook of his shoulder, and I shut my eyes, tuning everything out and allowing myself to just feel. The music, his touch, the lights.
His breathing is choppy, and I don’t think it’s from the dancing. He nuzzles my neck before biting a sensitive spot just below my ear softly. I gasp, and my hand shoots up, tangling my fingers in his hair. I’m not sure if I want to push him away or hold him closer.
No, I know exactly what I want. And it’s definitely not pushing him off.
Maybe it’s the confidence boost of that last shot or maybe it’s the playful bluntness we used to have with each other, but I surprise even myself when I turn my head and say, “You wanna fuck me, pretty boy?”
He freezes for a moment, before I feel his chest shutter against my back. “More than my next breath.” His rushed words are hot against my ear, sending goosebumps down my spine. He pushes his hips into my back so I can feel just how badly he wants to. And dammit, I want him too.
There’s no point in denying it. I wanted him when I was eighteen and I want him now when I’m twenty-seven. I wanted him when I visited him on tour a couple of years ago and I wanted him after his show the other night.
The desire is becoming all-consuming and it’s driving me mad. His scent, his touch, his voice…
“Are you going to let your head get in the way?” he whispers in my ear. “Or are you going to let me make you feel good, Jane?”
I hate that he’s right.
But not tonight.
Fuck it .
I break out of his hold and grab his face, bringing his lips to mine and sealing my fate.