It’s been so long since I’ve kissed a man, let alone whatever this is we’re doing. It feels so good. Too good.
He’s a complete stranger, and I’m in a locked closet, practically thrusting myself against him.
This is wrong.
I have to stop it.
His hand grabs the hem of my dress, gliding it upward, bunching it above my hip, baring my thong-clad ass in the process. When his hand runs over my ass, I about lose my mind.
His touch is lighting a fire in my core that’s never been lit before. The need is excruciating at the moment.
“Tell me you want this.” His British lilt is husky and hot as hell.
“I—”
He runs his finger up the outside of my panties, and I shiver in response. My answering moan fills the small space.
“Words, Rae.”
Rae.
The name is like ice water being poured over my head. Only one man has ever called me that, and he’s gone.
“What’s wrong? Why are you pulling away?” he asks.
These men are all the same. Wealthy. Insanely attractive. Arrogant.
Players.
I’m about to push him off me when the door flies open, and I fall backward. Two large arms catch me before I hit the ground.
“Whoa there, Raven. Nice to see you again.” Paxton grins down at me. “I must say, you’re a bit of a wrecking ball.”
“Paxton,” the man nearly growls. “Your timing is impeccable, like always.”
Paxton’s grin somehow widens at that as he lifts me to stand.
“Thank you,” I say, running my hands down my dress. “You came at the perfect time. I think I’ll add balloons to that fruit basket.”
“That so?” he asks, looking at his friend, smirking like a loon. “How about chocolate bars instead, Raven? Better for the environment and all that.”
I nod in response. “Obviously. Environment. Yeah. I’ll sneak in just one then. I’m sure my friends are looking for me,” I say, not meeting either man’s eyes. “I better go find them.”
“Raven.”
I don’t look at the stranger or Paxton as I turn my back and rush down the private hallway.
“Good night,” I call out, never turning back.
My name is called several times before I slip out from behind the wall into the chaos of Silver.
Am I a chickenshit for running?
Probably.
Was it for the best?
Absolutely.