Chapter 23 Abby
Abby
When I’ve had a few drinks, I love to dance. Sober Abby loves it too but she usually needs a pep talk, a dark corner and at least one Dua Lipa song to let loose.
But right now? I’m floating. Two shots with Tanya, two glasses of champagne before that and now I’m smack in the middle of the dance floor, living my best life.
The DJ is spinning Cee-Lo Green’s “I’ll Be Around,” and it’s hitting just right, funky and loud, with a deep jazz groove that makes your hips move whether you want them to or not.
Then I hear Tanya scream, “Yay!”
I turn and there he is… Jonathan.
He smirks as he steps into my space, hand sliding to my hip like it belongs there. He pulls me toward him and suddenly we’re dancing, bodies aligned, the rest of the room fading out like an overexposed photo.
His eyes meet mine, playful at first, then shifting into a hotter, even hungrier stare. I feel the weight of his gaze drop to my lips and I bite the bottom one, teasing him.
His smile slips into something darker. He leans in, grinding his hips against mine and whoa. I can feel him through his jeans. And I’m not even sure he’s hard yet. That’s just… him? At baseline? I gasp. Like actually gasp.
Jonathan spins me around, pulling my back flush against his front and now I get an even clearer sense of exactly what I’m working with.
His hands slide down my sides, then lower, gripping me with this confident authority as I grind back into him, matching his rhythm.
We’re dancing, technically. But honestly?
We might as well be having sex with our clothes on.
It’s hot in here, filled with the steamy, sticky crowd but he still smells so good.
That scent I used to associate with irritation and unsolicited arrogance?
Now I crave it. I want to drown in it. I want it soaked into my sheets.
Into me. I lean back into him, letting the back of my head rest on his chest. His chin dips down beside my face and I catch the flick of his tongue across his bottom lip.
I know what’s coming. I rise onto my tiptoes, bridging the height gap just as he drops in. When our mouths meet it’s fireworks. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a kiss that melts time. One of those kisses where your knees go weak, your brain forgets how to function and your entire body just says yes.
His arms tighten around me and I swear I could fall backward into nothing and he’d catch me. I feel safe, which is insane because this is Jonathan. But right now? His kiss is movie-scene hot. Lift-your-leg, hold-your-breath, forget-your-ex hot. And I’m not ready for it to end.
His tongue continues to slide more into my mouth and I welcome it, kissing him back with eager pulls.
At one point, I even suck on his tongue, just a little and that earns me a reaction.
I feel him shift against me, hardening through his jeans.
Oh… he definitely likes that move and I definitely want more.
I twist to face him, gripping his jaw and pulling him even closer, like our mouths haven’t already fused together. His hands slide down, finding the top of my butt again and this time, he squeezes it with a possessive edge that sends a fire straight through me.
My breathing goes erratic. I can hear myself moaning into his mouth, though the music is so blaring it swallows the sound.
He doesn’t stop kissing me. If anything, it becomes messier, needier, more desperate by the second.
Eventually, he pulls back, his eyes wild and dark as they lock onto mine.
Then they flick down to our joined hands.
He tightens his grip and starts walking, dragging me with him off the dance floor.
I follow without hesitation. He’s searching for something.
I don’t know what until I see it; a dimly lit hallway off to the side of the bar, nearly hidden from view.
There’s no one in it. Just shadows and hazy, golden light.
He glances back at me with a silent question in his eyes.
I nod, gulping, while my brain screams God, yes.
He yanks us into the hallway and doesn’t waste a second, lifting me clean off the ground, pinning me against the wall as I wrap my legs around his waist.
For a moment, he just looks at me like he’s savoring every inch.
My heart stutters. I smile and drop my gaze to his mouth, then pull it into mine.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound and presses in closer, kissing me like he’s starving.
Tongue sliding against mine. Hands gripping stiffer.
It’s erotic. It’s sweaty. It’s so good I swear if he reached for the button on my jeans right now, I wouldn’t stop him.
He presses me harder into the wall, his hands finding my chest and roaming freely.
I let out a moan as his fingers graze over my breasts, then under my shirt.
He leans down, pulls one of my breasts free and kisses it, tender at first, then more desirous.
His mouth closes over my nipple and the warmth of it, the rhythm of it, has me gasping like I might lose my mind.
His mouth is somehow both fierce and sweet, like he knows exactly how to wreck me.
I reach down, rubbing the front of his jeans. He’s fully hard now.
He lifts his mouth from my chest, his breathing ragged and cups the back of my neck, pulling me into another intense kiss, then breaks away just enough to whisper in my ear. “AJ, I need you.”
I kiss his cheek, his nose, his lips; anywhere I can reach, like I’m trying to pour everything I’m feeling into each touch.
Ninety percent of it is pure, unfiltered lust. But the other ten?
It’s something else. Like the kind of emotion you feel right before making love to someone you trust. Someone who’s yours.
It catches me off guard for a split second, this zap of something deeper but I don’t let it stop me.
Not when it feels this good. Not when it feels this right.
Still, before we completely lose control and end up having full-on sex in a hallway behind a bar, we both start to come down from the high.
Slowly, we pull back. He tenderly tucks my breast back into my top while I stop rubbing the front of his jeans, my breath still coming in short, shallow gasps.
He keeps holding me there, his arms secure as he places kisses along my jaw, my neck, my lips.
“Jonathan,” I manage to say between breaths. “That was…”
“I know,” he says, shaking his head and smiling down at me, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.
He lowers my legs from around his waist and my feet drop to the floor, still leaning against the wall.
I smooth my jeans and adjust my top while he steps slightly to the side, shielding me from anyone who might walk by.
He’s a gentleman without even trying and a tiger, barbaric and unapologetic, when he kisses me like he means it.
How can both versions of him exist in the same body?
And how have I been so blind to it all these years?
Did I always know this about Jonathan? Or has he just never let me see it?
We finally settle, both of us still catching our breath. He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together like it’s second nature. Like this is who we are now.
“Let’s get another drink,” he says, flashing a wicked grin, “before I make a mistake and have our first time making love be in a hallway at some club.” He winks.
I’m taken back a bit. He doesn’t say sex. Doesn’t even say fuck, which, knowing Jonathan, would’ve been very on brand. No. He says making love and in that moment, my heart does a full, uncontrollable somersault. Because I realize I’m falling for him and I’m not scared of it.