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My lips part as I realize how close I am to him. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and feel the intensity of the way he’s looking at me.
“Do you want some water?”
“Wha-no, this is fine.” I sip the liquid in my cup. It’s sweet, but I can still taste the alcohol. Smiling, I look up at him. He remembered that I don’t like straight alcohol. I don’t care how old I am, I just can’t drink it alone.
For now, I let myself relax. The feeling of security is back now that I’m with Alexander and Tristan is nowhere to be seen.
What are the odds of running into him here, while I’m out with Alexander? It almost seems too unrealistic to be a coincidence.
I suppress a shiver as I think back to his hands gripping my hips. How I couldn’t get away from him. How he threatened me. What would’ve happened if he’d decided that he wanted more than a dance?
Don’t think about it, Sophia.
I need a distraction.
Quickly, I down the rest of my drink and stand. “Let’s dance.”
Without hesitation, Alexander leads me to the dance floor. We dance, and as the alcohol hits me, I let myself go. The blur of the lights and the vibrations of the music in my chest are euphoric.
Before I know it, we’re three drinks in, my hands have stopped shaking, and my encounter with Tristan is a distant memory.
Alexander hasn’t left my side the entire night. In fact, he’s barely taken his eyes off of me.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
As the lights flash above us, I press my body to his and wrap my arms around his neck. Our lips are mere inches apart, and I feel his body tense.
“Sophia.” It’s a warning, the gift of an option to back off and change my mind—which he doesn’t give often.
But I just smile at him and sway my hips, letting my lips come even closer to his. Who was I to think I could stay away from him? His scent is intoxicating, a mix of sweat and citrus and him.
He may look older, but on the inside, he’s still the same boy who kept me safe from the bullies at school.
Still the same boy who snuck into my room in the middle of the night on my seventeenth birthday.
Still the same boy who kissed me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
“Come with me.” His voice is gruff, like he’s restraining himself. He pulls me into a dark corner and presses me against the wall.
My body is full of butterflies as he leans down until our lips are almost touching. For a moment, he hesitates, his eyes flitting up to meet mine. His are dark, filled with lust.
His arm tightens around my waist, eliminating any space between us, and then his mouth descends onto mine. A small moan escapes my mouth, probably lost to the sounds of the club, as he kisses me.
My eyes flutter closed, and I relax into him, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck. He’s kissing me with such passion, such hunger, it’s almost like not touching me for the last five years almost killed him.
When he finally pulls away, I’m gripping the collar of his shirt. I’m eighteen again, surrendering myself to him, letting his hands travel farther up my thighs...
Alexander groans, his lips brushing mine again. “I need to get you out of here.”
My heart leaps. For a moment, I almost get ahold of myself and tell him no. But then I just smile up at him and nod.
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s how good he feels. Or maybe it’s how much I’ve missed the freedom only he’s able to give me.
He kisses me again, and I see pain on his face when he pulls away. Then he’s guiding me through the crowd, back outside, and into the back of his car.
We take off without more than a nod to the driver, and Alexander pulls me into his lap, his hands cupping my ass. He kisses my jawbone, my neck, my collarbones.
“Alexander,” I whisper. “We’re not alone.”
