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Her validation soothes my ragged nerves. I manage a small smile. “I know. I just put a lot of pressure on myself. I want to do right by everyone.”
“You’re allowed to do things for yourself too,” Holly says gently. She brightens then, waving over the bartender. “In fact, doing shots is mandatory right now! Bartender, two tequila shots, please.”
Before I can object, two glasses brimming with amber liquid appear before us. Holly lifts one up insistently until I clink mine against it.
“To Emma,” she proclaims. “The most badass sister, daughter, and team assistant psychologist around. Now bottoms up!”
I toss back the shot, wincing as the alcohol burns down my throat, wiping away the sticky-sweet remnants of the cocktail. The tequila hits my system hard, leaving me flushed and lightheaded.
Holly whoops victoriously. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” She grabs my hand, tugging me off the barstool. “Now come on, we’re dancing.”
I let her pull me onto the crowded dance floor, my earlier tension drowned out by pulsing music and the pleasant buzz smoothing all my sharp edges. Holly and I move together, laughing breathlessly. For once, I stop overthinking and just feel, losing myself in the beat.
“Have you ever kissed a girl?” Holly asks me.
I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was, but it took me a second to process the question. “No,” I say, watching Holly bite her lower lip.
As the DJ segues into the next song, I sense eyes on me through the club’s dim lighting and gyrating bodies. I glance up to find Xavier leaning against a pillar, watching me with intent focus, and forget all about Holly. His handsome face is thrown into chiaroscuro relief by the neon lights. That now-familiar heat coils through me under his scrutiny.
I freeze mid-sway. How long has he been standing there? Holly notices my distraction and follows my gaze, letting out a low whistle.
“Well damn, look what the cat dragged in. Should’ve known he couldn’t stay away.” She smirks, leaning close to my ear over the music. “Maybe next time. Have fun, but be safe. Call me if you need an extraction.”
With that, she melts back into the crowd, shooting me a playful thumbs up. I watch Xavier in his designer outfit, and suddenly I’m vividly aware of how little clothing I have on. I cross my arms self-consciously as Xavier cuts through the sea of bodies until he’s standing before me, dark eyes raking over every inch of exposed skin. Heat follows his gaze and I wonder if I’m going to catch on fire.
“Fancy seeing you here, Em. Didn’t take you for the clubbing type.”
Even with my tequila-fueled confidence, that lingering gaze makes me flustered. I lift my chin, aiming for nonchalance when I feel anything but that.
“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Xavier’s mouth quirks. He takes my response as a challenge, stepping closer. I can almost hear the crackle of the energy between us.
“Oh, I intend to get to know you much better. Care to dance?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, already guiding me back into the crush of writhing bodies. I’m hyperaware of everywhere our bodies meet, my skin prickling at the contact. Xavier’s hands span my waist as we move together, the rest of the club fading away.
Maybe it’s the alcohol muddling my thoughts, or the week of suppressed tension seeking an outlet, but I lean into him. My fingers creep up his chest, thrilling at the heat of hard muscle beneath the thin shirt. Xavier’s breath catches. His grip tightens on my hips.
“Didn’t take you for the PDA type either,” he murmurs in my ear. “This is the third time. Are you trying to make it a habit, Miss Thompson? Should I warn my publicist?”
I trail my fingers higher, brushing along the exposed skin of his neck. I don’t know if it’s the press of the bodies or just Xavier’s proximity, but I’m suddenly overheated. “Guess you really don’t know me as well as you think.”
I echo my earlier words, relishing his sharp intake of breath as I scratch my nails down the back of his neck. Xavier dips his head, lips grazing my throat in retaliation. A gasp escapes me before I can stop it. The kiss sears my skin long after his mouth leaves it.
We’re wading into dangerous waters here, that dizzying precipice where pretense blurs into reality. But with the alcohol humming through my veins, I can’t make myself heed the warning bells clanging in my mind. I want to drown in this feeling for a little longer, drown in him.
The DJ’s voice booms over the speakers, jolting us apart. “Alright party people, grab that special someone for a slow jam.”
The thumping bass melts into a sultry R&B melody. Couples around us sway together, but Xavier’s eyes stay locked on mine. Wordlessly, he tugs me against him, one hand stroking up and down my spine, my bare skin humming under his touch. I shiver, resting my cheek against his chest. His steady heartbeat thrums in my ear, drowning out the music.
We barely move to the slow sensual beat, just holding each other close. It feels dangerously intimate for two people supposedly playing roles. More intimate than the act of sleeping together somehow.
The song ends, shifting back to an upbeat tempo, and the spell breaks. We drift apart, the air suddenly colder. I clear my throat, avoiding Xavier’s heavy gaze as I rub my arms.
“I should head home. Early morning tomorrow.” The excuse sounds flimsy, spoken aloud, and I can’t look him in the eyes.
Xavier just nods, face unreadable. “I’ll walk you out.”
