And I followed Vasily out onto the dancefloor.
CHAPTER 2
VASILY
This kid was cute.
Not so much a kid, I supposed. Taylor was younger than me by a few years, but he was in his mid-twenties at least. Hot, too. He was white like me, with sandy blond hair, some darker scruff on his jaw, and eyes that were somewhere between hazel and brown. It was hard to tell in this light, but they were pretty either way. I liked his smile, too.
As we moved to the dancefloor and I got a better look at his face, I realized there was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t place him. Maybe I’d seen him when I’d first looked around the club and he just hadn’t registered. Whatever. He definitely registered now, especially as he stepped in close, a hand on my waist and a grin on his lips.
Fuck me. I hadn’t been touched since my breakup, and just his hands making contact through my clothes had my head spinning. As we started dancing, I didn’t think it was just the thick crowd that had him pressed up this close to me. Oh God, he was gorgeous, eyes full of fire as the disco lights played all over his amazing body. The heat through our clothes and against my hands made my skin tingle. Every time I glanced at his lips—every time he glanced at mine—my pulse jumped upward. I hadn’t been here very long, and I already had the hottest man in the room grinding against me.
I was dizzy, but it wasn’t all exhilaration. As determined as I’d been to get out and break my dry spell, it was suddenly overwhelming, and not in an entirely good way.
Am I ready for this?
Am I?—
We were kissing.
Just like that, out of nowhere, barely halfway through the first song, his mouth was on my mine, and…
Oh. Fuck. Kissing had become so normal with my ex, but now I was kissing someone else. For the first time in my life, I was tasting the mouth of someone who wasn’t Drew.
From the way Taylor pulled me in tighter as a soft whimper thrummed against my lips, I wasn’t disappointing him. Or maybe he was just too horny to care if I was a good kisser or not.
Hewashorny, too—my senses had been struggling to process everything, but as he deepened the kiss, he pressed his hips harder to mine. I had a flash of embarrassment when I realized he couldn’t possibly have missed that I was fully hard. A split second later, though, I registered the thick ridge of Taylor’s erection.
I broke the kiss, ostensibly to catch my breath, and locked eyes with him.
The interest in his was impossible to miss. He’d come here to get laid, no doubt about that, and he wasn’t looking at me like someone he planned to dance with until he found a guy he actually wanted to hook up with. We’d known each other a handful of minutes, but I could already sense that if I suggested we leave or even find a dark, quiet corner of this club, he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. The way he’d kissed me—oh yes, hewas down for more, and he was more than willing to take the fastest route possible.
Why didn’t that thought excite me like it should have?
Probably because I was more scared of this than I wanted to admit. I’d only ever been with one man. Everyone made the hookup scene sound so easy, but now that I was here… Now that I was dancing with someone who clearly (right?) wanted to do more than dance…
What are you doing, Vasily? It’s not been that long.
It’s been long enough.
And either way, you don’t have a fucking clue what you’re doing.
Fuck. WhatwasI doing?
Coming here and dancing had taken more out of me than it should have. Flirting my way into this man’s bed? Going through the motions of sex? Keeping up with a man this confident? This bold?
Just thinking about it made me tired. Not just tired—depressed. Anxious. All kinds of things that didn’t bode well for a sexy hookup. What if I really was as bad in bed as Drew had claimed? What if I really did need the amount of guidance he’d said I did in order to get someone off?
What if Taylor’s excitement turned to disappointment?
Ugh. Fuck that.
I didn’t want to dance anymore. I didn’t even want to be here.
I nodded toward the edge of the dancefloor. Something sparked in Taylor’s eyes—God, I hoped I wasn’t getting his hopes up—and he followed me out of the crowd. Closer to the bar, it wasn’t quiet by any means, but it wasn’t as loud as on the dancefloor. We could actually talk, even if we had to shout to be heard.
I leaned in a little, and he lifted his chin.
