He shakes his head and bends down to speak into mine. “Cross and Grave used to.”
I’ve never seen so many people in one place before. I’ve watched TV shows and movies where people are out dancing at clubs, but this one is three stories tall. A bar lines either wall to our left and right with a dance floor in the middle. Stairs are straight ahead that lead up to a loft area. Looking up, I see people looking over down to the first floor.
Dillan pulls me through the mass of people while Cross and Alexa lead us over to the bar at the back. He leans down and asks, “What would you like?”
Pulling back, I meet his eyes. The moment I got my first look at him in the limo, I thought he was gorgeous for a man. Evil but beautiful, nonetheless. He always has this look on his face like he hates the world. Or maybe it’s just me and the position I’ve put him in. But right now, with all the flashing neon lights, they glow the prettiest color of blue I’ve ever seen. I guess that could be the alcohol talking. Isn’t there a saying about how alcohol makes you find someone attractive who you normally wouldn’t? Even so, that can’t be what this is because I already find him that way.
“Surprise me,” I say, licking my numbing lips, and his eyes drop to the action.
Reaching up, he cups my face, his thumb running over them before his eyes meet mine again. My thighs tighten, and my lips part. An open invitation that I want his on mine.
But he pulls away and faces the bar, ordering some drinks. My shoulders fall.
Of course, he’s not going to kiss me in public. This is a fake relationship. It’s not real. Not what he’s trying to convince the world of anyway. Yeah, we’ve had sex, but it’s not like he’s going to shove my dress up, bend me over the bar, and fuck me for all to see.
He’s motherfucking Dillan Reed—Bones—a King. Multibillionaire. He’s probably got at least a hundred women right now blowing up his phone, begging to fuck him. Acting like he’s interested in me while out in public would ruin his playboy reputation.
Turning around, he hands me a drink. I bring the straw to my lips and take a sip. My eyes fall closed, and I moan when the fruity liquid slides down the back of my throat. Damn, that’s good. Is this alcohol?
Opening them up, I freeze, my lips still around the straw when I see him watching me.
I pull the drink back and nod once. “It’s good.” I play it off.
Stepping into me, he removes the drink from my hand and places it on the bar. “I said I liked it,” I yell over the music, thinking he didn’t hear me the first time.
His hand falls to my neck, and I swallow, my skin breaking out in goose bumps. Lowering his head, he whispers in my ear, sending a chill down my spine. “Dance with me.”
Without waiting for an answer, he pulls away and grabs my hand, dragging me out to the dance floor. People part for us like he’s fucking Moses, and the men nod their heads at him as if they know him personally.
“Want It” by SoMo starts to play. I nervously look around, but he cups my cheek.
“Look at me.”
“I’ve never danced before,” I admit. My heart races with nervousness even though I want him to pull me in close to his body and run his hands all over me, making my skin heat. Fuck, I’m horny and drunk.
“First time for everything.” He repeats the same thing I said to him when he told me sex would hurt.
When he pulls me into him, I melt. His hands grip my body, moving my hips to the music. His eyes are on mine so intently that it makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, wanting him to know what’s on my mind. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him to me. Needing to be as close as possible while others run into us.
He groans, lowering his lips close to mine but not close enough to touch. Once again, he’s refusing to kiss me in public. “Mia…”
Moving my head to the side, I run my tongue up the side of his neck to his ear and add, “How you like it.”
His hands grip my hips painfully, and I close my eyes, imagining him being inside me and doing that. Bruising me. Marking me.
One of his hands slides up my bare back and grips my hair, yanking my face from his neck, forcing me to look up at him in the flashing lights. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”