My stomach clenches with a mixture of emotions. The main one is irritation. The second is the overwhelming need to screamno, leave me to my knitting and cats.I don’t even have cats, but my soul does. It has many…and quilts, purse peppermints, and reading glasses. Basically, my soul is a 94-year-old biddy with a bad hip and dentures.
But Addison is my friend, even if she annoys the fuck out of me sometimes and it is her birthday…
She must see me wavering because she amps up her pathetic-ness by ten. “Fine,” I groan, already regretting the decision. “Seriously, though. A club? You’re turning 35, not 25.”
“I’m turning 30,” she hisses, tossing my hand aside now that she’s gotten what she wants. I roll my eyes.Liar.
“Can we move the fuck on?” Scott murmurs. “I’m getting rather annoyed with your girl talk, and I have a golf game to get to.”
“Oh? With Carrie Underwood?” Carly bites out, and I decide then and there that Carly deserves a raise.
Picking up my phone, I finally respond to Wolfe’s message.
Foxbabe20: Going to a nightclub, apparently.
Chapter Thirteen
“Holyshit,thisplaceis amazing!” Joella beams. She grabs Carly’s hand, dragging her through the crowded nightclub and making a beeline for the dance floor. Addy shoots me an excited grin, tipping her chin after them in question.
“Nope,” I shout, shaking my head. “I need alcohol first.”
I’m not a prude or against having a good time by any means, but this place is so packed you can barely move, and it’s already grating on my anxiety. She nods and pulls me toward the bar. My eyes take in the popular new nightclub as nerves flit through me. Surprisingly, there are all sorts of people here. I was worried the crowd would be made up of barely legals trying to grind on my ass.
We make it to the bar, and order shots of tequila. Apparently, we’re going big tonight. Fuck it. It’s Friday, and I officially have no more obligations, at least for now. The reminder of Tinsley has me taking the shot and then another, drinking until I’m well and truly not giving a shit about the crowded club. I grab Addison’s hand and practically sprint to the dancefloor to find our friends. She cackles loudly but appeases me.
Once we find the girls who are already grinding on each other, I lose myself to the thumping bass in a way I haven’t in years. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, enjoying the burn of the liquor coursing through my system as it numbs me both physically and mentally. We laugh and dance until we’re sticky with sweat, and then we dance some more. At some point, one of the girls leaves and returns with a tray of shots that I gladly dive into.
It's not until Carly and Joella beg to take a break that I finally come back to my body. My red bodycon dress is clinging to my skin as though I was caught in a rainstorm. My thighs are irritated from rubbing together, and my feet are screaming in protest, but…I don’t care. For the first time in I don’t even know how long, I’m not thinking aboutanything.
I’m not thinking about work or how badly I let down Tinsley and Georgia. I’m not thinking about my dad, my best friend and only living relative, who is disappearing slowly in front of me. I’m not thinking about my mom, who died from cancer when I was just a kid, and the sacrifices my dad made. The guilt that I feel for not being able to return his generosity. I’m not thinking about any of that. I am, however, thinking abouthim.Wolfe.
MyWolfe.
Even thinking his name has my face aching from how big my smile is. My eyes scan the heavy, thick crowd in search of a man I know won’t be here. A man I’ve never even met but still manages to consume my every waking thought. Fuck, he even consumes my dreams. Addison waves at me, shouting that she’s going to the bathroom. I debate following her so I won’t be left alone on the dancefloor, but before I can, she disappears into the crowd.
Shaking the nerves away, I continue dancing on my own. I close my eyes and force myself back to that place of numbness and bliss. My hips move in time with the slower beat ofI Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet.I get lost in the bodies pressing in on me from all sides, and surprisingly, I find that I don’t hate the feeling. That is, untilmy skin prickles with awareness.
There’s a distinct difference between people being near you, and people actively watching you. Even with your eyes closed, it’s easy to feel the change. Right now? Someone’s eyes are burning a hole into my flesh. A normal person would be reasonable and choose to ignore it. A paranoid person would panic. Apparently, I’m neither because my first response is torelishin the sensation. I don’t know if it’s someone else on the dancefloor or someone standing right next to me, nor do I care.
My eyes remain closed, and I don’t miss a fucking beat as I put on the best, most sensual show of my life for whoever’s decided to watch me. It doesn’t take long before hands land on my hips, giving them a rough squeeze. My throat bobs, and suddenly, I don’t know what to do with my body. Do I keep dancing? What do I do with my hands?Just enjoy it, Ray.I want to, I do, but for some reason—I can’t.
They aren’t the hands you want.
There it is. My unhealthy obsession with a faceless man is making me feel all kinds of wrong. I feel like I’m cheating, which is absolutely absurd. I can do whatever the fuck I want. For all I know, Wolfe could be doing the same. With that irritating and vomit-inducing thought, I sink into the stranger’s body, pushing the odd feeling to the wayside. I feel the rough texture of a beard scrape against my cheek and I cringe. He chuckles into my ear, and the sound is all wrong. I don’t know why, but in my soul I just know.It’s not his voice.
The stranger’s hands slide up my ribcage, palming my flesh as he grinds his hard cock into my ass. I shift, wanting to pull away as the touches go frompotentialtoget me the fuck out of herein an instant. Not even a song in, and I’m already regretting every decision that led me to this exact moment. Deciding I’ve had enough, I pull away. The man grips me harder, tugging me back into his chest and making me stumble.
“Where the fuck are you going? Don’t be a cock tease,” he laughs, moving to squeeze my boob. Absolutely fucking not. My foot rears back, ready to do maximum damage, when suddenly, he’s ripped away from me. He shouts, and I turn to see what the hell is going on when another set of hands lands on the same hips the creep had just felt up, except this time…
It feels right. So fucking right. Something inside of me screams,he’s here. Butterflies pour from my gut to my throat, causing a warm, fluttering sensation. Hundreds of questions flit through my brain at such a rapid speed I start to get dizzy, but then, he’s leaning in and wrapping his arms around my body from behind, blanketingmewithhim,and everything else disappears.
“Little Fox,” he rasps, his hot breath fanning across my cheek as he nuzzles into my neck. My head tilts back as I try to look up at him, but his hold on me tightens. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tsks. “Don’t fucking move. Just feel.”
I gasp out a sharp breath at his words and my body’s instant acceptance of them as I melt into him. I keep my eyes trained forward, enjoying the way we feeltogether. We move as one, our bodies fully aligned, completely in sync. My eyes close of their own accord. I tilt my head back, leaning it against his chest, noticing how much taller he is than me. I focus on everything I can feel in this position, committing his traits to memory.
With my 4-inch heels on, he still towers over my naturally short stature, which means he’s got to be at least 6’3, give or take an inch. His chest and biceps are lean but muscular. I can tell from the scratchy material grazing my thighs that he’s wearing jeans. The feeling of leather sliding across my slick arms however, has my eyes opening. I look down to where he’s wrapped around my waist in a hold that’s distinctly possessive and am surprised when I see a black leather jacket. His hands flex against my ribs before sliding down,exploring. I notice then his skin is white. His fingers are long and unblemished. Delicate almost.
Without a word, Wolfe’s hands get to know my body similarly to the way I was. Except…I want to touch him, too. I drop my arms and reach behind myself, finding the coarse material of his jeans beneath my palms. His body freezes completely, then shudders in acceptance, allowing me to continue. I squeeze, noticing the long, lean strength of his thighs. He’s not a bulky man or overly muscular. Just toned.