It’s a coincidence—that’s all.Sterling is the biggest name there; it’s no surprise Lucky knows his name.No reason to think he plucked it from the secret hiding place in my heart.
“Yes,” I choke out, staring down at the blossom floating in my drink.
The answering silence says volumes, and something tells me Lucky doesn’t believe in coincidences at all.
“Some things never change,” he says, knocking his bottle against my glass in solidarity.“Welcome to the club.”
And,oh, I could laugh.
“How long?”
“Too long.We stopped talking after uni.I hated him for a long time, but I never stopped loving him.It’s why I’m here, if you can believe it, because I can’t seem to stop chasing the bastard.”
This time, I do laugh.Of all the people in Chance, how many moved here because of the same man?
“He’s always been a dark horse, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”Lucky chuckles into his beer.“Moody.Didn’t party, didn’t drink.Didn’t seem to have any fun at all.Closed off and so bloody beautiful that it hurt.So fucking smart that he could have taught half the classes we took.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, you know …” he says, his tone light.“Turns out, being in love with your best mate doesn’t end well.Wasn’t even gonna tell him, but he figured it out.He had a gig in Australia straight after graduation; he’d be gone for three months, chasing a nonprofit, and we talked about meeting up after.Coming here.I didn’t think anything would change, you know?”He takes a pull of his beer.“Night before he left, he kissed me, and, fuck, it was everything I’d wanted.Next thing I know, he’s on his knees, and—” He cuts himself off.“Anyway, it didn’t matter that he wanted me back; he still left.”
He hides it well—pain behind playfulness—but it’s there if you look.
I’m looking.
Reaching over, I place my hand on his.“I’m sorry.”
Lucky intertwines our fingers, squeezes.“I’m not.Heartbreak gave me my first Grammy.”His smile is strained at the edges.“Besides, I’m a right hypocrite.If he walked in right now, I’d forgive him.Take him back in a heartbeat.”
Light flickers around us as the door opens, closes.One of the staff pushes through the front, hands laden with a box, cords spilling overtop.
“His loss is my gain.”
Lucky’s grin shifts my nervous system into overdrive.“Yours and mine.”
Oh, heisdangerous.
* * *
Lucky is incredible onstage.Sexy, passionate, a true performer.It’s only because I’m looking for it that I can see the tense line of his shoulders, how often he avoids looking at the crowd for too long, how quickly he gets offstage when he’s done, chest flushed and dripping sweat.
He doesn’t stop until he finds me, nursing a water by the edge of the dance floor.Heat pours off him.Our fingers touch as he takes the glass from my hand, throwing it back in big gulps.My gaze catches on his mouth, wet now, and doesn’t leave.
Lucky reaches past me to set the glass down, bringing our hips together, and doesn’t move back.“Dance with me.”
I should call it a night.I’ve got all I need for the article, not that it matters.It’s a fluff piece; I’m contractually obligated to say nice things.I could have stayed in and written it with my eyes closed, but I wouldn’t have met Lucky if I’d done that.
Fuck it.
The music is everywhere, replacing every sense with the snap of the snare, the thump of the bass.I sink into it, giving my hips over to the rhythm until I’m only an extension of the song, endless as it morphs into the next and the next and the next.
He grabs my hips, pulling me closer, dragging his body against mine in slow circles, a tease and a promise.His skin is damp through his shirt, hard and hot.I love the way his muscles move under my touch, find myself pressing and pulling, closer, closer.I want to blanket myself in him.
I don’t hesitate, shifting until his thigh slips between my legs, letting my skirt ride up as I rock against him, lifting my head to search for that devastating mouth.
Oh, this is what I’ve been missing.He kisses with his whole body, and there’ll be no getting over this—the slide and pull of his lips; his tongue, perfect and tender, so much softer than I imagined.
