“Thank you. You’re looking amazing yourself.” She’s got this tiny little black dress on that has a ruffle of blue tulle around the base of it. She’s teamed it with a few accessories, and killer electric blue heels that are a good five inches high.
“I know,” she teases, giving me a wink as she moves to sit on my bed.
“Did you tell Aaron we aren’t going to be at this party anymore?” she asks me.
“Oh. No. I’ll text him from the train,” I say, as I apply some plum lipstick then blot it with a tissue.
“Are you two ready?” Jessica calls from the hall before coming into view. She’s wearing a really short sky blue dress that has a cowl neckline and is made out of reflective material – it kind of has a snake skin look to it when the light hits. “Oh good. Let’s go. There’s a train leaving the station in, like, twenty minutes.”
We all file out of the townhouse and lock the front door, tucking our keys, ID’s, phones and money into our bras for safe keeping.
Walking down the pathway, we head toward the station. I’m wearing the same strappy heels I wore to the Scarlett Party. With all three of us in heels, we’re making quite the racket with our footwear as it hits across the pavement.
“We should have drunk the rest of the schnapps,” Kensi says as we pay for our tickets and wait on the station. “The train ride is going to be so boring sober.”
“Kens, you think everything is boring sober,” Jessica laughs.
It takes us a good hour on the train before we’re walking along Cockle Bay Wharf, trying to decide which club we want to go to. Eventually, we just choose the one that has the loudest music, and the most people.
“Looks like fun,” Kensi notes, dancing to the beat as we push our way through the crowd toward the bar. “OK, now we each need to get four drinks each or we’ll spend all bloody night at the bar,” she yells over the music.
“How the hell am I going to carry four drinks?” I yell back.
“Watch and learn.”
Leaning across the bar to yell her order at the average looking barman, she takes a straw from the dispenser and holds it between her teeth.
“Thank you,” she yells, picking up one glass in each hand with her forefingers and thumb then lifting them up and grabbing the other two cups with her remaining fingers and palms.
“And how do you drink them?” I ask. This is when she gives me a look that tells me I shouldn’t ever underestimate her. With the straw in her mouth, she rapidly downs the contents of one and flicks it on the floor, scattering ice all over the place. She keeps the straw in her mouth and just moves it across to the next drink.
“Kensi!” I admonish, looking down at the floor. “Someone will break their neck on all that ice!” I kneel down and pick up what I thought was a glass, but turns out to be a plastic cup and place it on the bar, ordering only two drinks because I don’t feel like doing the juggling act Kensi is doing.
“Chicken,” she laughs, as I turn around with my drinks.
Childishly, I poke my tongue out at her and stand to the side while Jessica orders hers. She turns around with three bottles of those vodka mixes we all love so much.
“It works out to four,” she immediately says to Kensi. “Besides, I am not having a drinking competition with you tonight. Otherwise poor Etta will have to carry both of our drunken arses home!”
“Party poopers – the both of you!” she calls out, returning to the bar and ordering four more. I can’t believe she’s finished them already. I’ve barely made it half way through one.
This time she returns with shots. “No, no, no,” I say as she attempts to thrust one in my hands.
“Yes, yes, yes. Drink two, then we’ll go dance, and I won’t make you drink anymore. I promise.”
“Fine,” I say, finishing off one drink and returning my cup to the bar before I accept the shot glasses from her. “How am I going to do this?” I ask, holding one cup in one hand and two stacked shot glasses in the other.
“Seriously, you are such a night club virgin,” she scolds me. “Here. I’ll hold this one.” She takes my cup of bourbon and coke from my hand so I’m free to do the shots.
Wincing at them, I take a deep breath before tipping my head back and quickly downing the both of them.
“Holy shit,” I exclaim, shaking my head quickly and coughing a little, as the burn constricts my throat. “What the hell was that?”
“Absinthe.”
“That was mean,” Jessica giggles, taking a leisurely drink of her Cruiser.
Kensi hands me back my other drink, and I take a gulp of it, just to wash the taste of the absinthe away.
“Let’s go dance,” she calls over the music.
Taking me by the hand, she pulls me after her as she forces our way to the dance floor, securing a position she feels is adequate, before she raises her hands above her head as begins to dance.
The music seems as though it has a pulse, as the coloured lights dart around the dimly lit dance floor. Bodies are pressed against bodies, as they gyrate to the beat as it vibrates our very cells.
Mimicking their moves, I lift my arms, swaying my hips to the music, letting the throb dictate my moves. The air is thick with human warmth, but filled with energy as we sway. It doesn’t take long before we start to attract the attention of some would-be suitors. They seem to slip in amongst us seamlessly.
The guy next to me, slightly shorter than I, with fashionably messy short brown hair, leans into my ear to speak.
“I love redheads,” he says, yelling over the music.
“Good for you,” I yell back, holding my thumbs up to congratulate him. He doesn’t take my disinterest as a hint though, and continues his attempt to dance with me.
I look in the opposite direction, attempting to give him the cold shoulder. When I turn back, he’s gone, and so are the other two guys that were after Kensi and Jessica.
“Over there,” Kensi says in my ear, looking over my shoulder.
Following her line of sight, I notice Damien, and a couple of other guys, leaning up against a pylon, watching us dance. Pausing, I place my hands on my hips and stop moving.
Extending his index finger, he beckons me forward, a slightly unimpressed look on his beautiful face. Walking toward him, I try to look as unfazed as possible, pretending that I am an incredibly confident woman who won’t be told what she can and can’t do.
As I get closer, he glances toward the two other guys, tilts his head, and effectively dismisses them.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Dancing,” I state, my hands placed firmly on my hips. I’ve heard that this is a confident stance, and since I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded after those drinks, I’m also feeling a little bold as well.
“You’re supposed to be at a party.”
“Change of plans.”
His eyes skim up and down my body as he slowly nods his head.
“Besides, I thought you were here for a reason. Why the hell are you standing here watching women dance?” I accuse, taking a step closer to him as I poke him in the chest.
“There’s only one woman I want to watch dance Etta, and that’s you,” he says in my ear. The fact that I’m in his direct proximity has made me even more lightheaded. I need to learn to keep my distance when I’m angry with him, or I’m never going to get my way.
“Here,” he says, reaching into his jeans. Out of his pocket, he pulls a small Bluetooth ear piece, and attaches to my ear, moving my hair so it covers it. “Give me your phone.”
Reaching into my bra, I slide my phone out from the side of the cup and hold it out to him. His eyebrows are raised as he accepts it from my hands. Using it, he calls himself, activating the ear piece. Reaching up, he presses it to answer the call, brushing his thumb lightly against my cheek. “Dance for me,” he says into the handset.
“Here?” I ask.
“No. Out there. I want to watch you.”
Walking backwards slowly, I keep e
ye contact with him, loving the way he watches me as I dissolve back into the crowd.
“Stop there,” he commands, as I reach the edge of the dance floor. I do as he says, watching him and waiting for what comes next.
“Now close your eyes. Listen to my voice, and feel the music. Move your hips. Imagine you’re moving only for me.”
His voice caresses me as it enters my ear, the only clear thing in a throbbing sea of pulsating bodies. I follow his instructions, feeling the music vibrate through me, imagining that only he and I are in the room as I sensuously roll my hips from side to side, letting my hands slide up my body, from my thighs until I reach my hair, lifting it, letting it cascade slowly over my fingers.
A body brushes up against mine, and I flinch, thinking it might be another unwanted suitor, but no sooner do I open my eyes than the offending toucher is mysteriously absent.
“Just focus on my voice,” he says. “Dance for me. You look so goddamned sexy in that dress. If you were ready, I could take you right now,” he tells me, causing my insides to clench. “Jesus, I’m getting hard just looking at you. Everybody here wants you. Every man in here is looking at you, hungry, thinking that he needs you. Fuck. Henrietta, get the hell back over here. I need you. I need you by my side.”
Opening my eyes, my focus goes immediately to where he’s standing, the look in his face is so full of hunger that I can’t even think straight. All I want is him.
As I step toward him, I’m stopped by some random guy, stepping in front of me, grabbing at my waist and telling me how gorgeous he thinks I am.
Panicked, I look to where I last saw Damien, only to find he isn’t there. I push the guy away from me, telling him no.
“Come on darlin’, just one dance. That’s all I want,” he says, pulling me closer.
“Get the fuck off her,” Damien growls, towering over the other guy who is too drunk to realise when he’s met his match.
“Find your own woman,” the idiot yells back, keeping his hand on my waist.
Damien reaches out and grabs his arm, twisting it uncomfortably, whispering close to his ear. I can’t hear what he says, but the guy’s face goes as white as a sheet before he rapidly makes his retreat.
“What did you say?” I ask, as he pulls me against him.
“I told him it’s not nice to try and snipe another man’s woman,” he informs me with a grin, just before he takes my mouth in his, swaying with me to the music, our bodies pressed up against each other as our lips lock. It’s so erotic that my body screams out for him to touch me more intimately.
His hands slide over my body, cupping my butt firmly in his strong hands, pressing me against him. I can feel his need for me growing between our bodies as we melt into one another. His hands slide down, to the bare skin on my thighs, skimming under my dress and back up to my arse.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Lace panties,” I reply.
“We should have a rule about underwear,” he says in my ear.
“You’re the only one who was ever going to see them,” I murmur.
A grin creeps over his face as his hands move either side of my face, pushing my hair back as he looks into my eyes intently.
“What is this?” he asks suddenly. “This thing between us.”
“I don’t know,” I reply, “But it feels like everything.”
“Everything,” he repeats, just as his mouth meets mine.
Chapter 11
“I’m sorry I ruined your fight,” I say, as Damien walks me to my door. Kensi and Jessica are already inside. Actually, they’re spying on Damien and me through the window while they share a tube of Pringles.
“No, you’re not,” he chuckles, taking me by the hand and pulling me to the side of the house, out of the sight of my prying roommates.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” I whisper, tilting my head up toward him, holding my mouth a hair’s breadth away from his.
“Then don’t,” he returns, letting his lips brush lightly against my own.
His eyes darken as he moves toward me, holding out his hand for me to take. He pulls me toward him, and my hands fly up to brace myself as our bodies collide.
Holding me firmly against his body, he dips his head, taking my mouth in his. Every single cell in my body sings in joy as euphoric feelings swirl within me, increasing my want – my need – of this man.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss and bends his knees, picking me up over his shoulder. Squealing, I kick my legs. “I’m taking you with me,” he informs me, as he deposits me in his car, leaning in to kiss me as he clips me in safely.
“We could just stay here. I haven’t even slept in my new room yet.”
“Your bed is too small.”
“Last night, we slept on top of each other – we don’t need that much space,” I point out.
“Are you always going to argue with me?” he asks, as he starts the car and pulls away from the curb.
“Are you always just going to do whatever suits you?” I return.
“Yes,” he grins.
“Then yes, I’m going to argue.”
His apartment is even closer to my new place than my parent’s house is, so we’re there in less than five minutes.
“Do you want a drink or anything?” he offers as we enter his apartment, and he drops his keys on the bench. I lean against the front door, watching him move about. Without waiting for my answer, he takes out two glasses and fills them with cold water from the fridge. “Here.”
He stands in front of me, watching as I take the glass and drink down the water. I don’t know why, but the way he watches me, makes me very warm. As soon as I’ve finished, he takes the glass from me, brushing his fingers against mine as he drinks his own water. My breathing quickens as I watch him in return. I feel like I’m a deer, caught in headlights. I can’t stop watching and waiting.
Placing the two glasses on the table beside us, he entwines his hands with mine, moving his fingers sensuously against my own. Slowly, his hands travel the length of my arms, and up over my shoulders, causing my skin to prick as his fingertips brush lightly against my skin until he’s cupping my face either side, his fingers sliding into my hair as he smooths his thumbs against my cheeks.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes travelling over my face like he’s studying every curve and hollow – every line. “I just…want to kiss you. Nothing more.”
His mouth closes over mine as I willingly part my lips, granting him entry, moaning as his tongue slides over mine. My hands travel up to his waist and under his shirt. I’ve been making out with him all night, and I want to feel his skin. My body wants more. I want more.
Pressing against him, I feel his own need for me growing and pressing into me. My hands pull, and my fingers curl into his skin, bringing us closer, as I moan and move against him, loving every deep sound that escapes his throat. His hands drop from my face and reach down to grip my butt, pulling me even closer.
Pulling at his shirt, I lift it up, urging him to take it off. Dropping it on the table beside us, I run my fingers all over his bare chest, loving every bit of his soft skin as my hands travel over the hard planes of his body.
Breathing heavily, he drops his face, breaking our kiss and pressing our foreheads together. His hand still rests on my arse cheek, and I slide my hands down to his, pulling him back against me.
“I think we should get some sleep,” he murmurs, causing my heart to drop with a thud into my stomach as he steps out of my reach. “I’ll get you a towel and something to sleep in.”
I can’t even move right now. We’ve just gone from being all hot and heavy to getting ready for bed, and it’s taking me a moment to let the whole situation sink in.
Once again, he turns the shower on for me, and leaves me with a towel and a t-shirt. I shower quickly, and wrap myself in the towel, frustrated that he isn’t responding to my advances, wondering if I’m doing something wrong.
Realising I don’t have
a toothbrush with me, I open the medicine cabinet, hoping to find a spare one in there. Lucky, I do. He has one of those five packs of Colgate toothbrushes sitting in there. There are two toothbrushes remaining, and I can’t help but wonder who used the other three. It wasn’t him. He has an electric one.
Jealousy swirls within my stomach as I vigorously brush at my teeth. I try to tell myself that it isn’t important, that it doesn’t matter. But he said that he didn’t sleep with people. Why then, are there toothbrushes here? That seems like he has regular sleep overs to me. As I spit the foam down the sink, I decide I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t like the way he’s making me feel.
Pulling the door open, I stomp into the bedroom, holding up the toothbrush. “I just used this one. Do you have a marker so I can write my name on it? I wouldn’t want any of the other people, that packet of toothbrushes is there for, to mix their spit up with mine.”
“What?” he responds, his brow knitted tightly in confusion as he stands up from the bed, now shirtless and wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. I have to force myself to focus on my anger, or else I might just run over to him and wrap my arms around his body, just to feel his skin against mine.
“I thought you didn’t have sleepovers.” I glare at him, gulping as he strides toward me, while I still hold the toothbrush up as my evidence.
Taking it from my hand, he walks past me, into the bathroom and over to the vanity, placing the toothbrush inside the rinsing cup. He then opens the mirrored cabinet and removes the packet containing the last remaining toothbrush and turns back to face me, leaning his weight against the bench top.
“This has been in there for a while you know. When I bought it, there were five – all different colours.” He sets the package aside and holds out his hand, counting on his fingers. “They were blue, green, and orange. You chose the purple one, which just leaves the pink one. If these were here for my ‘sleep overs’ – as you put it – then don’t you think the girl colours would be gone?”
My face drops as I realise what an idiot I’ve just been. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just… the thought of you and other women is kind of making me crazy. Especially when…”
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