52. Chapter Fifty-Two #3
Gods, I didn't get to tell my sister anything, not even what happened to Dex. And now, she's so furious, she might never speak to me again, not that I blame her. "Thank you, and please apologize to…your attendant on my behalf. I'm truly sorry."
I don't get the chance to hear his reply.
Zenn's hand wraps firmly around my shaky wrist, and he pulls me back into the crowded ballroom—but not toward the main entrance as I expected.
"Is everything ok?" he demands, concern filling those piercing blue eyes.
I can't lie to him. I also can't bring myself to tell him about Bri.
Not after the final words she hurled before she left.
I'll have to think of something, or he'll never understand why I'm ready to go home. Right now, I just want to forget about all of it. It's like he can read my mind when he hands me a large glass of something that smells faintly of cinnamon. "We're not doing that, not tonight."
I look up at him and swallow the liquor in one mouthful, the burn transporting me out of my chaotic mind and back into the soft amber glow of the party, still going strong. "Doing what?"
"I don't know what you two were talking about so intently for so long, but I can see you're completely tangled up in your thoughts.
Whatever it is, there's nothing else you can do right now. Time to get out of your head, or you’ll drive yourself crazy.
" He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear and bends down to whisper, "So, will you let me distract you, just for tonight? "
I'm the queen of compartmentalizing. I can shove all of it into a mental box and sort through it later. Spending the rest of my night with him instead of rehashing everything that just happened? Yes, please.
Biting my lip, I lean over looking for another drink and say, "Distraction, huh?"
He wraps his arms around me and fucking carries me to the pulsating dancefloor, slowly lowering me down his hard body until my feet hit the floor, hand splaying against his muscled chest, an arm hooked around his neck, effectively pressing me right into him.
The music is different now, the pounding rhythm writhing and thrumming around us like a tangible force drawing us together.
"What are we doing?" I hiss as he loops my other arm around his neck.
He gives me that cocky smirk I unfortunately love and drops his hands, one to my lower back, the other gripping my hip, perfectly aligned with his, thanks to these shoes reducing our height difference.
I gasp in surprise when he steps forward, nudging my foot back, keeping our hips pressed firmly together.
"What does it look like we're doing? We're dancing."
"Yes, but why are we dancing? And why did you just do that to the prince?
You basically humiliated him at his own party.
" I mutter that last part a little breathlessly, struggling to concentrate on the conversation when every one of my nerve endings is set ablaze by Zenn's intense stare and his hand making lazy sensual strokes exceptionally low on my back.
Lowering his mouth until I feel his hot breath brush my neck, he whispers, "I really don't give a fuck about him or anyone else in this room. You and this dress are driving me crazy." He grinds his hips into me, and I feel him harden.
I bite back a whimper. "You did choose well. It's beautiful."
"For fuck's sake, it’s not the dress, Aly. It's you. If we could leave right now, I'd rip it to shreds and prove it. Put that mirror in our bedroom to good use and make you watch me do every filthy thing I've been thinking about doing to you, until you know how captivating you are."
I flush, shivering when he drags his fingers up my spine, along my collarbone, and over the curves of my breasts, making them swell and peak in response. His eyes darken when he sees my body's reaction to his touch. I reach up to scratch my nails through the rough stubble along his jaw.
"This party has been going for a hundred hours.
All that time, knowing just how little you have on underneath all this fabric.
Hours of knowing, without being able to see or touch or taste like I want to.
Knowing isn't nearly enough for me anymore, but we're stuck here until the others make contact, so we're dancing.
Because gods damn, I need my hands on you, ok? "
"Yes," leaves my lips in a small sigh, the only thing I can get out of my lust-addled brain. So, we dance, winding high and sinking deep as the beat rises and falls with us. It's pure ecstasy and absolute torment, having him this close but nowhere near close enough to satiate my craving.
And he's not the only one being tortured by this dress now.
My breasts are heavy and aching from the incessant friction of having only the thinnest layers of fabric between us.
A fact he has most definitely noticed and is doing nothing to prevent, if the grin on his face every time he looks down is anything to go by.
I'm about ready to say fuck it and drag him somewhere more private when he tells me Hendrix just signaled from the doorway. Now, we just have to survive the agony of the ride back to the Triv.