Chapter 20 #2
Parker doesn’t miss a beat. “Here’s to getting drunk and making out with my hot fiancée on the dance floor!”
The fiancée in question swats him playfully in the stomach, her embarrassment only making him laugh.
Somewhere between trying to come up with the perfect toast and the opening beats of a Britney song, we throw back our shots sans toast. The alcohol burns on the way down, but the warmth spreads quickly.
Theo suggests food. April leans back against Parker, scanning the menu with her phone in one hand, his chin resting on her shoulder.
“What do you want to eat?” she asks, her focus on the screen.
Parker barely glances at it before replying with a smirk, “She’s not on the menu.”
April snorts, shoving her elbow lightly into his ribs, though she’s clearly trying not to laugh. “You’re horrible.”
He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “And yet, you’re marrying me anyway.”
“Still time to make better choices,” I mutter low enough that April and Parker don’t hear me, but I catch the sound of Theo’s laugh from the corner of my eye.
The song changes. Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! By ABBA.
I order another martini and April grabs Parker’s hand, laughing as she drags him to the dance floor.
“It’s our song!” she squeals. They blend into the crowd, dancing together like no one else exists.
“We should do that,” says the voice beside me.
I glance at Theo, my brow furrowed. “What?”
He side-eyes me. “Dance.”
The bartender returns with my drink, and I blink slowly, trying to process the gibberish that just came out of his mouth. “You want to dance with me?”
Theo sighs. “All right, since you won’t stop begging.” He steps in front of me and offers his hand. “And please try to follow my lead. These shoes are new, and I don’t want you stepping on them even if it’s to reach me for a quick thank-you kiss.”
I glance at his hand — the same hand that was around my throat less than six hours ago — then back at his face, which seems impassive as ever except for his lips that are quirked up to one side, the only proof that he’s enjoying this. Whatever this is. I scoff and turn the other way.
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“Why not?” He reels his hand back in.
“Because I’d rather gargle with broken glass than feel you touching me again.” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them with every fiber of my being. Again. Not just touching me, period. Again. As in I’m still thinking about the last time you touched me in the hospital storage closet.
I take a large swig of my martini and Theo steps in front of me, allowing himself the faintest smirk. “It’s just a dance, love. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”
“As if that’s stopped you before.”
His smile grows. “Come on, Holly. It’s not very ladylike to keep a man waiting.”
“Is it ladylike to gouge said man’s eyes out because he won’t stop bothering me?”
“No, but I wouldn’t object if you tried.”
“Please leave me alone.”
“Begging already? How many of those have you had?”
“Enough to not care who sees me playing with your blood right now.”
I swear he fucking moans. “Why won’t you dance with me, Holly?”
“Because I’m not crazy.” I take another sip of my drink.
“Darling, you’re positively insane.”
“Because I don’t dance. There. Is that good enough for you to fuck off and annoy someone else?”
It isn’t. He steps closer, the tips of our shoes brushing.
A sharp jolt of electricity races up my spine, igniting every nerve like a live wire.
“Don’t worry, Hollister,” he drawls. “Despite what you might think of me, I’m actually pretty good at it.
Even took lessons as a child. I won’t let you fall. Promise.”
“Promises from my stalker don’t really mean much to me.
” I hate how shaky my voice sounds. Hate how his proximity — his fucking presence makes me feel.
“But if you want to dance so badly, you’re more than welcome to do so with literally anyone else.
Preferably someone who doesn’t hate the mere idea of your hands on her. ”
The grin that spreads across his face is so infuriatingly smug, it almost feels like he can see straight through my lie. “Is that what you want? For another woman to put her hands on what clearly belongs to you?”
I force a scoff, ignoring the way those words make my pulse skip. “You do not belong to me.”
He inches even closer. The faintest hint of his cologne mingles with the warmth radiating from him, and I can actually feel the pull of gravity shifting, drawing me toward him despite every screaming warning in my head.
He bends down slowly, his lips hovering dangerously close to my ear, not touching. Not even a little bit.
His fingers slide through the lace loops of my corset. My breath hitches.
He doesn’t grab, doesn’t pull; he simply threads them there, and fuck I wish he would just tug me closer, press his body against mine — anything to bridge the distance between us.
His voice comes out low and rough. “God, but I really fucking want to.”
My heart quite literally stumbles over itself as he pulls back, his eyes locked on mine.
He takes the glass from my hand and brings it to his lips, sipping slowly, his mouth brushing the rim where mine had just been.
Then, without another word, he hands me back the glass, slides a hand into his pocket, and saunters toward a group of women near the dance floor.
I clench my fists, nails biting into my palms, desperate for something—anything—to ground me.
What the hell just happened?
He zeroes in on a brunette dressed as Wonder Woman and it takes him all of four seconds to coax her into giving him her hand.
The song changes into something slow as he guides her to the dance floor with one hand resting low on her back.
The second they reach the edge of the dance floor, Wonder Woman tries to weave her way to the center, but Theo stops her with a light grip on her elbow, pulling her back.
He keeps them near the edge — close enough for people to see. Close enough for me to see.
He lightly grips her fingers, spinning her so that her back is facing me.
His hands settle on her back, holding her closer than seems necessary.
He’s taller, so she has to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze.
She wraps her arms around his neck, and they begin swaying to the rhythm of the music, moving together effortlessly.
My lips press into a tight line, and I take a sip of my drink. Then another. And another until it’s nothing but olives. I set the glass down.
Theo’s hands slide down the brunette’s waist, and it’s almost as if I can feel the heat of his touch on my own skin.
I can feel the tension in my hands, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.
When his hands reach her bare thighs, I feel my own legs tense involuntarily, heat building in places I don’t want to acknowledge.
My nails dig into my palm so hard, they draw blood.
I force myself to look away. I signal for another drink.
My nails tap impatiently against the countertop.
The bartender slides my drink across the counter, and I reach for it, taking a slow sip, forcing my attention on the glass and nothing else.
But the burn of the gin does nothing to dull this…
other feeling burning in my chest. And then, like a magnet, my eyes are pulled back to the dance floor.
Theo glances at me over her shoulder. Eyes still on me, he sweeps the brunette’s hair to a side and then presses his lips to the side of her neck, his gaze never leaving mine.
My whole body goes rigid. The cool air feels like a shock against my skin, and for a second, it’s like I can’t breathe properly.
I clench my glass so hard, my knuckles ache.
The way his lips touch her skin — it’s like I can feel it on my own neck, the phantom sensation sending a tremor down my spine.
There are goosebumps all over my body. My pulse quickens, my skin tightening, every nerve alive.
I am practically tingling. Buzzing. Like something important is happening.
Something inevitable. Something awful that can’t be stopped.
And then, because I’m an even bigger idiot, my hand lifts of its own accord, and touches the exact spot he’s kissing on her body.
Lips still glued to her fucking neck, Theo smiles.
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
My hand drops and I force myself to look away. For good this time.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this bothering me so much?
It’s just a dance! And even if it wasn’t, I’m supposed to detest Theo Carter — I do detest him.
Not only is that man a constant pain in my ass, but he is also my fucking stalker!
And I hate that I have to constantly remind myself of the fact as though if that weren’t the case, my feelings for Theo would be any different.
They wouldn’t, just to be clear. He’s arrogant and selfish and an expert manipulator.
He has no respect for someone else’s boundaries.
He’s broken into my apartment multiple times, he’s watched me sleep, he’s seen me kill people — hell, he's even lied to the cops for me! Just because he’s tall and has a freakishly perfect jawline doesn’t negate any of his bad qualities.
He’s basically a seasoned criminal himself.
And I will not be the kind of girl who associates herself with a criminal.
I have a hundred other things to worry about.
Things that actually need worrying about.
Theo is not a part of that list. He is irrelevant to me.
But what if he’s also the only person in this world who can touch you without making you flinch, the insidious voice in my head taunts. You want him to do it again.
No! I shake my head. No, I don’t!
Chugging the remainder of my drink, I lean against the bar.
If he wants to dance or make out with someone on the dance floor, he’s more than welcome to do so.
Not that I want to see him make out with someone.
That’s gross. And weird. I don’t care what he does.
Or who he does it with. Why would I care?
It’s not like I’m keeping tabs on him or anything. That’s what he does. That’s his job.
If anything, I should be thrilled he’s found someone else to annoy. I should be relieved and ecstatic that I won’t have to waste any more energy deciding where and how to stab him again.
But I’m not ecstatic. I’m irritated.
My eyes roam the crowd for someone — anyone — I could dance with, too. If it’s a game Theo wants, then it’s a game he’s going to get.
But there’s no one around. No one eligible, that is.
I spot that man from earlier, Finn Asher.
He’s standing at the far end of the room engaged in a heated conversation with a tall dark-haired woman who seems to be dressed as a Greek goddess.
I can’t see her face, but judging by the strands of pearls dripping down her arms, she’s probably Aphrodite? I don’t know.
I glance away, a flicker of frustration rising in my chest. I don’t want to dance with anyone else.
I don’t want to feel some stranger’s hands roaming over my body, touching me like they have any right.
It makes my stomach twist. My skin feels too tight at just the idea.
Disgust that I feel the need to prove some fucked-up point to Theo.
Guilt that I can’t do so because I can’t even stomach a stranger’s touch, that I won’t even let myself try. And yet…
My eyes drift back to the fucking dance floor.
Yet the idea of standing here, doing nothing, watching him with her, feels even worse. I don’t understand this feeling, nor do I like it.
The woman keeps her arms looped around his neck. His hands stay tight around her waist. He leans down to whisper something in her ear, and she tosses her head back, laughing.
What the fuck is she even laughing about? Theo isn’t funny.
The song changes and they keep swaying to the music. Midway during the second song, his eyes meet mine over her shoulder again. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. An unspoken sensation tightens in my chest. A new murderous urge. I just don’t know for whom.
My jaw tightens. I take out my phone, forcing myself to focus on literally anything else.
The song changes, the tempo more upbeat this time.
The brunette leans in to kiss him on the cheek, though I barely even notice.
I order a tequila shot and down it in one go.
The liquid burns all the way down, a fiery trail of heat that coats my throat and spreads through my chest. Sharp and slow. But I don’t wince.
Instead, I wait for the woman to finally peel herself off Theo’s body. I set the empty shot glass down with a quiet clink and push my way through the crowd, following her to the washroom, my hand already reaching for the scalpel strapped to my thigh.