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I know she’s as sober as I am, but her pupils are blown wide, consuming the beautiful blue. Her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed. She’s staring at me with an expression I’ve only ever dreamt of.
“Are you okay, Lace?” I ask, stepping close to her so she can hear me over the music and the crowd. I don’t want to have to shout at her just so she can understand what I’m saying.
She nods, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. I watch the move with interest, my cock hardening further. Christ.
“I think so,” she murmurs back, taking a step closer to me so that we’re almost touching. “I just…um…I feel a little flushed.”
I blink at her, scrambling for some self-control. But fuck when she’s looking at me like that, I can’t find a single thread of control. She’s been wearing it down for months.
Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, and I break.
One hand around her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck, I drag Lacey against me and kiss her the way I’ve been dying to for months. The first taste of her, sweet and sultry, makes me groan against her mouth.
Lacey kisses me back without any hesitation, her hand fisting my shirt against my chest. Her lips part as she makes an addictive little whimpering sound that goes straight to my cock, and when she flicks her tongue against mine, I feel as though she’s set me on fire.
I hope the asshole that tried to hit on her is watching. I hope everyone in this fucking place is watching. I’m staking my claim, announcing it to both us and the world: this girl is mine.
I need more. I need all of her. Hell, I’m so out of my mind with lust from our kiss that I’m seconds away from fucking her right here in the middle of the dance floor.
“More,” Lacey whines when I pull away from the kiss. Her eyes are glassy with lust, her breaths coming in heavy pants that make her breasts bounce, her lips swollen and wet from kisses.
“Yes,” I agree, voice husky. “More.”
She clings to me as I wrap my arm around her waist and rush us off the dance floor, away from the crowd. I want to throw her over my shoulder and sprint the fuck away from here, but she’s wearing a dress and I refuse to let a single person in this place get a glimpse at her perfect ass.
I make a beeline straight for the bathrooms. Without checking if anyone else is in line waiting, I yank open the door, thankful that the bathrooms here are single-stall rooms. I slam it behind us, locking it without letting go of her, and then finally gather her up into my arms fully, lifting her so she sits on the edge of the counter next to the sink.
I claim another burning hot kiss, both of us moaning against each other, months and months of tension finally unraveling between us. My hands cup her thighs, pushing up the hem of her skirt to feel her skin, warm and so fucking soft, against me.
“Fuck, Lace, fuck,” I pant against her lips, unable to find the right words for what I feel right now. “God, baby, I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Lacey moans and shuffles a little so she can part her thighs, making her skirt ride up even more to expose the purple lace panties she has on underneath.
“I need you,” she says, echoing my own thoughts. Lacey’s breath shudders as it leaves her lips, my hands sliding higher. My thumb grazes the wet fabric of her pants, and feeling just how hot and ready she is for me makes my eyes threaten to roll back in my head. “Did you mean it?” she asks, quieter and more uncertain than before.
I pause, catching the insecurity in her voice. “Mean what, baby?” I ask softly, one hand coming up to cup her chin and direct her to look at me again. Touching her sends sparks through me, followed by waves of relief. I’m fairly sure I’m dreaming if not for the fact none of the filthy dreams I’ve had about this girl come close to the real thing. Nothing could prepare me for the softness of her skin, the smell of her perfume and the flush of her cheeks, and the way her thighs shake when I let my thumb coast over the damp patch on her underwear again.
“When you told that guy that I was your girl,” she whispers, as though bracing for me to deny it and tell her I don’t want her after all.
As if I could ever lie to her.
“I meant it more than I can even say,” I tell her honestly, my grip on her chin loosening so I can skate my hand up her neck. My fingers tangle in the silky soft blonde locks at the base of her neck, holding her still for me. “And now I’m going to prove it. Prove I want you more than air. Prove I’ve been drooling over you for months. Hold on to the counter, baby, and let me prove that you’re mine.”
2
LACEY
The club is a whirlwind of hazy music and blurry lights, and I can’t concentrate on any of it except the man whose arm is around my waist as he drags us off the dance floor and into the bathroom.
I’ve had one single cocktail that was more fruit juice than it was alcohol, so I’m entirely sober, but dammit I’m drunk off Levi’s kisses. I’m dizzy and floaty with lust and relief as Levi’s big, strong hands grip my thighs when I part them. My hands cling to the edge of the counter, every raspy, desire-soaked word he groans sending me spinning into sparkly bliss.
I can’t keep track of all the emotions and thoughts circling in my mind, especially not when Levi’s kissing me like he’s not just hungry but starving. God, how long have I been thinking about this? Longer than is socially acceptable, that’s for sure. I can’t help but think back to when Levi turned up at my door, just two days after Edward had left me and called off the wedding.
Levi didn’t try to cheer me up or tell me things were all okay, like other well-meaning friends had done. Because the truth was things weren’t okay then. Now I’m almost grateful for Edward destroying our life together because marrying him would’ve been a huge mistake. If I married him, I’d have never known how intoxicating his brother’s touch feels.
From that night, when Levi sat with me all night long helping me clean up the mess his brother had left, Levi proved that he truly cared about me. He showed me, over a tub of ice cream and a floor covered in torn-up wedding magazines, that I was worth taking care of.
The truth is undeniable. Levi Anderson has had a piece of my broken, bruised heart from the start.
