Something in me balks at being told what to do by him, but he’s already guiding me away. I toss my champagne back, feeling a wave of something approaching intoxication, and go with him.
The girl I’ve been all my life—studious, hardworking, careful about how I dress and who I talk to and the men I allow close to me—hasn’t made me happy. Not really. I love my work, and I love my family, but I want something more, something of my own. Romance. Sex. A husband. Maybe even a family of my own. I feel like I’m missing what every other woman my age has gotten to experience in their twenties, and I’m tired of it.
I want to know what it feels like to be desired. Claimed.Fucked. I want to feel what I’ve been missing out on all this time.
Desmond leads me through the crowd with a possessive hand on my lower back. The dance floor is packed, bodies churning together in the dim lighting, the air hot with sweat and mingled cologne and perfume, sexual tension rippling through the undulating room. Desmond pulls me into the crowd, his hands immediately finding my hips as we begin to move to the heavy beat. The music is primal and seductive, and I can feel it bringing something out in me, the alcohol helping. I don’t usually dance like this, but I find the beat, and Desmond presses himself closer to me.
He's a good dancer, confident and skilled. His hands roam as we dance, tracing the lines of my body through the silk dress, fingers skimming along my spine and sending shivers through me. I feel cold and hot all at once, and I wonder if we could stop here, after this. Let this be as far as it goes, for tonight. And maybe next time…
The song changes, and he pulls me closer, until there's no space between us at all. I can feel every hard line of his body against mine, can feel the evidence of his desire pressed against my hip. He’s aroused, wanting, and I arch into him, trying to give myself over to it. To forget anything other than him.
"You're killing me," he whispers in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
I lean back to look at him, seeing the raw hunger in his eyes. “No,” I whisper, and he growls low in his throat, spinning me around.
My back is pressed against his chest, his hands splayed across my stomach as we move together. The position is intimate, sexual, his hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the promise of what could come later. His cock presses against the small of my back, rolling into me as if he could fuck me right here. The thought sends a thrill through me.
I let myself get lost in it, in the feeling of being desired and wanted and pursued. His hands travel up my sides, thumbs brushing just beneath my breasts in a touch that's almost innocent but not quite. When I lean my head back against his shoulder, he presses his lips to my throat, tongue darting out to taste my skin.
"We should get out of here," he murmurs against my ear, his voice rough with want. “I want to take you home. Have another drink and see where this goes.”
I hesitate. I know he can feel it, the way my movements slow and I tense. “I—” I don’t know what to say.Yes, say yes,part of my brain screams, while the other part warns me away, says that maybe we’ve let this go far enough for tonight.
"Come home with me, Annie." His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me more firmly against him. "Let me show you how good it can be between us."
Every rational part of my brain screams that this is a bad idea. That I should go home to my own apartment, that I should think about this more, that I should at least tell someone where I'm going. Leon isn’t going to let me go home with Desmond. He’ll call Ronan if he knows. I’ll have to slip my security in order to do this, and Iknowthat’s a bad idea.
Instead, I hear a different answer come out of my mouth.
"Okay," I whisper, and the word feels like crossing a line I can't uncross.
He turns me back to face him, his hands cupping my face as he kisses me hard and deep, right there on the dance floor with half of Boston watching. It's possessive and claiming, and when we break apart, I'm breathless.
"Let's go," he says, and there's an urgency in his voice that matches the pounding of my heart.
We make our way through the crowd, Desmond's hand never leaving my body, fingers trailing across my back, my arm, anywhere he can touch me. By the time we reach his car, I'm dizzy with the alcohol that’s fully in my system now, my dress clinging to my damp skin. “We’re going to have to slip my security,” I tell him, nervously. “Leon would never let me?—”
“Fuck your security.” He slides a hand into my hair, kissing me roughly again. “Let’s go. I’ll get you to my place beforeLeonknows you’re gone. And you can tell him you don’t need him any longer tonight.”
My stomach twists.This is a bad idea, my mind whispers. But this is why I’m still a virgin. Why I’ve never gotten to experience what Mara has. Because I always have men watching me. Following me. It kills intimacy and passion. Makes it impossible to have any kind of normalcy.
This is why Siobhan died. But Desmond isn’t going to hurt me. If anything, he’ll be more careful with me because he knows what happened to his sister. And we’re going to his place, where he has his own security. No one can hurt me there—it’s not as if we’ll be out in public without protection.
I swallow hard, waiting until he’s peeled away from the curb to text Leon with shaky fingers. Desmond keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh, thumb tracing patterns that make concentration impossible. Every red light becomes an opportunity for him to lean over and kiss me, his mouth hot and demanding against mine.
I manage to get a text off to Leon in between lights.Going home with a friend. Will call for a ride in the morning. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Just head back to my place.
"I can't wait to get you alone," Desmond murmurs, his hand sliding higher up my thigh. "I've been thinking about this for so long, Annie. About how you'll feel, how you'll taste..."
My breath catches. This is all moving fast, so fast that I can’t keep up with how it makes me feel, whether this is what I want or not. But Ido, I tell myself. I’ve wanted this for years. Someone to help me forget Elio. Someone to give what I don’t want any longer. Someone who can make it so that I can put all of that firmly in the past.
My phone buzzes as Desmond takes a quick turn, heading deeper into downtown Boston toward where some of the high-rises are. I glance at the screen.
Leon:A friend? Is it Connelly?
I bite my lip.I shouldn’t lie to Leon. But if I say yes?—
Annie:No. I just want to spend the night with a girlfriend is all. We’ll be fine. Just go home. I’ll call you if I need anything.
