Chapter 16
The second we entered the bar, I could tell Claire was out of her comfort zone. She didn’t sneer and look down at her surroundings. Instead, she gawked at it all as though she’d never set foot inside such a simple place. Maybe she hadn’t.
Hours later, though, I realize she’s not turned off by it. She has yet to stop moving her head to the music, sometimes tapping her fingers on the table and shimmying her shoulders. I highly doubt she’ll claim to be a country fan anytime soon, but she sure as hell is going along with it tonight. The plates of greasy burgers and salty fries can’t resemble any of the fancy-schmancy arty food she ate in Paris, but she ate every bite and seemed to want to lick her fingers, too.
Then the beer. Shots, too. I can’t tell if she’s on a mission to get wasted and pass out before we return to the suite as a way of avoiding sleeping with me or what, but she is not shy about drinking.
Maybe it’s been a while for her. She did say she was busy in Paris, studying. She turned me down when I asked her if she’d like to come to the bar back home. Both of those clues have me suspicious that she’s been too high-strung to have much of a social life. At the rate she’s drinking, I have to wonder if she hasn’t had a chance to just be and have fun like this. And on that matter, I’m more than happy to let her enjoy herself as much as she wants. Everyone needs a break, after all.
“What is this called?” she asks me with a glimmer of excitement burning in her eyes. She’s tipsy, but cute and not sloppy about it. Like she’s trying so hard to still be the proper and haughty woman she knows she should be. The alcohol is getting to her, though, making her more mellow.
“The shot?”
“Yeah!” She giggles, leaning into me as someone bumps into her at the bar. Half of the liquid sloshes out of the small glass, and she pouts.
“Hey, watch it,” I tell the man who shoved into her. He ignores me, and with an even quicker exit from the crowded bar, he elbows her again, and she loses more of the scant liquid.
“Damn.” She sets the glass on the counter, but as I lift my hand to hail the bartender again, she touches my forearm until she lowers it and holds my wrist. “Nah. Don’t bother. I’m already buzzing, and I don’t want to get too intoxicated.”
I smile. So much for the theory that she wants to get so drunk that she can avoid me later.
“Okay. Your call.”
It’s been her call all night. From the first place where we ate to the next bar. And the next. And the next. I stopped checking the time around one, glad no one was shouting last call anywhere yet.
“Let’s dance!” she insists instead of reordering a drink.
We’re already sweaty from doing just that, but I’m in no mood to turn her down. I never expected to be tearing up the town with Claire, but it seems that beer is a quick way to get her to lower her guard and let loose because that’s actually what we’ve been doing all night. Eating at one place turned into dancing at another. Ultimately, we shifted to bar-hopping, and I know this will be a night I’ll never forget.
It is different for her. I can tell. She’s not used to living it up and doing whatever the hell she wants, and with her enthusiasm, looking at this experience through her eyes, it’s all the more fun and exciting. Hell, dancing with her is a torture I’ll never turn down. While I’ve been careful with my drinks and mostly staying as sober as possible, I can’t resist this opportunity.
She leads me to the dance floor again, and I don’t hesitate or drag my feet. It was quickly clear her style of dancing doesn’t match what everyone does here, but with my hands on her back and sides, my body pushing against hers as a guide, I show her how she can dance with me. As the drinks flowed, though, she didn’t wait for or follow my lead. Instead, she took to gyrating against me and stroking her hands over me.
I’m not sure how much more I can take, and I expect my control to remain intact. She has no clue how much she’s tormenting me.
Or maybe she does.
As the songs change and something slower comes on, she shifts toward me. She drapes one arm over my shoulder and presses her other hand to my chest. If she concentrates on the beat under her fingers, she’ll know exactly how fast my heart is racing from being so close to her.
I keep my hands loose on her hips and rest my forehead against hers. We lock eyes, and I will my dick not to go hard right now. Just that stare. Her gorgeous eyes on mine, like I’m all she can see and feel…It’s a heady feeling I never want to end.
“How about we get out of here?” she purrs. She licks her lips after she speaks, and I follow the path of her tongue.
“And go back to the room?” I feel dumb to ask, but with the way she’s eyeing me like I’m the dessert she’s been waiting for, and the way she sways her body with mine to the music, how could I not wonder about what she’s asking. Her body signals something like surrender to this chemistry sparking between us, but I don’t want to make the wrong assumption here.
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “No. Another bar!”
Giggling and full of energy, she grabs my hand and hurries me toward the door. I can’t help but laugh. Her fun mood is infectious, but with this quick exit, I don’t have the foresight or moment to reach back for her sandals she left on the stool.
And that’s where we end up. At three in the morning, she’s barefoot and finally ready after several bars to head back to the room I managed to snag at the hotel.
I hoist her higher on my back and she giggles so hard I think she’ll start snorting. I laugh right along with her, clutching the underside of her thighs as I carry her.
“No!” she shrieks, laughing harder and wiggling on my back. “I told you.”
“What?” I dig my fingers into her smooth skin again. “Ticklish?”
She roars with laughter, tightening her arms around my neck as I carry her. “Yes! Stop.”
I cease walking, chuckling.
“Stop tickling me,” she amends with fading laughter.
I do, focusing on carrying her back to the hotel in one piece. “I can’t believe you lost your sandals.”
“You did,” she accuses playfully. She’s quick to laugh as we head to the suite, but I hear the difference in it. She’s not drunk or buzzing. We both drank so much water and sweated too much for the booze to be ruling us with all that dancing. Neither of us are in any shape to drive, but we’re clearer now that we’re in the open night air.
“You’re the one who wanted to take them off in the first place,” I remind her.
“Because they hurt.”
I grunt. “Then why do you keep wearing them?” Here and back at the cabin. She’s got such a fetish for wearing the wrong footgear.
“Because they look pretty.”
“You look pretty. Not your shoes.”
“We can agree to disagree,” she says, instead of accepting the compliment.
We reach the hotel, and without letting her lower herself off me, I piggyback her right into the lobby and only put her down once we’re at the elevator.
She sighs, glancing up at me as we ride up to our floor. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Piggyback?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “No. Just going out all night and having fun like that.”
I blink in surprise. “Bullshit.”
Her giggle is sweet and sincere. “No. Seriously. I haven’t.”
I step closer, wondering if she’s going to put up those walls and be guarded with me again. “Never?”
She shakes her head, watching me with wide eyes as I move closer. “Never.”
I reach up to tuck her springy blond curls back. “I find that hard to believe.”
She grips my hand, holding it in place, not shoving it away. “Why?”
The elevator stops, and I twist my hand to take hers, guiding her out to the hallway and toward our room. “Come on. You? You’re high-maintenance, yeah, but I thought someone like you would be a hit wherever you went. Life of the party.”
“Me?” she retorts.
“Yeah, you. You’re beautiful and funny. Young and adventurous.” I pause in my praises and glance at her as I wait for the door to open from the key card activation.
Her cheeks are rosy again, and this time, without the exercise of dancing or laughing, I know that pretty hue is a blush of embarrassment, not an exertion of energy.
“Well, yeah, I’m young, but…” As she steps into the suite with me, she clams up further, frowning and stammering over what she struggles to say. “I’m not funny. Sarcastic, sure. But humorous? I doubt it.”
I wheel around and close the door behind her, rolling my eyes at how quickly she resorts to self-deprecating thoughts.
“And I wouldn’t say I’m adventurous at all. I prefer to hide, not face anything intimidating.”
I turn toward her, sliding my arm around her back at the same time I use two fingers to take her chin and tip it up toward me. She’s so short that I have to dip my head down to see her fully.
“Claire, that’s bullshit, too.”
She scoffs. “You can’t tell me what I am. I know myself and—”
I sigh, brushing my thumb against her lower lip to silence her. “You’re gorgeous. And hilarious when you want to be. And you damn well are adventurous. You showed me how all night.”
“But I’m—”
I lift my thumb up to press against her lower lip again. “And you have faced plenty of intimidating things. Like this.” I step closer, letting her see the desire on my face. “This chemistry between us. It’s driving me crazy, but you’re not running away from it either.”
Yet. I don’t want to think she will.
She swallows and draws a deep breath, lifting her soulful gaze of want to lock on me.
“I’ll teach you how to accept a compliment, Claire. But right now, I’d rather show you how wrong you are about yourself.”
Before I think twice, I lower my face to hers and cover her lips with mine, kissing her soundly.