He dips his head, his lips brushing close enough to my ear that I shiver. “I don’t hate it when it’s with you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the smile. “That’s a terrible line.”
“Yeah.” He smirks. “But it worked, didn’t it?”
We move to the beat, awkward at first, then easier, like our bodies already know the rhythm. My hair sticks to my cheeks; his hands steady me when someone bumps past us.
When a song I don’t recognize starts pulsing, the floor fills up.
Somewhere between the last chorus and now, more people have trickled in without me noticing—slipping through the doors, shedding jackets, letting the music pull them straight into dancing.
Elle twirls under Jack’s arm, and he dips her low, planting a kiss on her mouth that has them both laughing loud. The spaceshrinks, bodies pressing in, and suddenly Connor and I are tucked into the far corner, half-hidden by shadows.
The corner isn’t part of the dance floor, exactly. It’s a narrow strip of wall between the edge of the bar and the DJ booth, partially concealed by a stack of chairs that towers over us. From here, the crowd looks like a single moving organism, a blur of limbs and glittering lights.
“Manu,” he murmurs, his hand tightening at my hip.
My breath catches. “Hmm?”
The beat thrums through the floor, up my calves and through my ribs until it feels like my whole body is vibrating. Connor’s mouth is hot on mine, one hand firm on my lower back, pulling me tighter against him. My body presses into the rough wall, lights flickering over us in dizzy spins of pink and blue.
Everywhere else is chaos, but in this corner, obscured, it feels like the world has shrunk to just Connor’s lips and the relentless beat of the music.
“Connor,” I murmur against his mouth, my fingers curling into his hair, tugging just enough to hear the sound he makes. The half groan, half laugh runs through my body and settles low in my belly.
“Manu,” he whispers again, low and rough, like he’s unraveling. His hand slides lower, from my waist to my thigh, thumb pressing through the thin fabric of my dress.
I should one hundred percent stop him. I should remind him there are people ten feet away, on top of the group that knows us on the other side of the room. But then his lips trail down my jaw, finding the place just under my ear, and my knees actually buckle.
“Someone could see,” I manage, though my voice is already betraying me.
“No one’s looking,” he murmurs. His hand slides higher, fingers brushing the edge of my dress. “And no one needs to know our business.”
The words hit low in my stomach, and my pulse jumps. I grip his shoulder harder, torn between pulling him closer and shoving him away.
And then his fingers skim up under the hem of my dress. My breath catches so hard I almost choke on it. His palm anchors on my thigh, sliding slowly and deliberately, until his knuckles nudge the edge of my underwear.
Heat floods through me, sharp and dizzying. My head tips back against the wall as the bass rattles my bones.
“Fuck,” he hisses, then kisses me again before I can say more. A moan threatens to spill out of my mouth, but before I can manage to take in some air, he’s swallowing the sound and keeping it between us. His hand stays right there, not moving but in a way that makes every nerve ending light up. “Let me touch you where anyone could see and no one would know.”
The crowd surges closer as the DJ shifts into “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me).” The music is so loud now I can’t even hear my own thoughts. I can only feel his body pressing me against the wall, his thumb on my clit and his mouth stealing every breath.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice ragged against my lips.
I don’t. I kiss him harder, nails digging into his shoulder, silently daring him to keep going.
And he does.
His other hand moves to catch my leg and lifts it to his hips. It involuntarily wraps around his body, and he moves closer. “You’re going to make me ruin these pants if you keep pushing me closer to you, baby. Is that what you want?”
His fingers press firmer, circling once, just enough to make my hips jerk. I bite down on his lips to stifle the sound that wants to rip out of me.
Someone nearby shouts in laughter, so close that we both freeze. My pulse hammers so hard I swear the whole club can hear it, even through the thundering sound of the music and seemingly every patron singing along to the lyrics.
Connor pulls back just enough to look at me, chest rising hard against mine, eyes dark like he’s memorizing every inch of this moment. His hand drifts down my thigh again, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing my skin like a warning.
“Later,” he murmurs, his voice wrecked and low, the single word landing like a promise I can feel all the way down to my toes. He eases back, adjusting himself with a rough tug, and then—because he’s shameless—he brings his fingers to his mouth, tongue dragging over them as his eyes hold mine.
