She gives me a small smile and nods just as we step up.
Olivia is the first to greet me, pulling me into a tight hug before the guys follow suit, “This is Sloane,” I introduce my friend, “She recently moved here, she’s who I’m staying with at the moment.”
As expected from Olivia, she’s inviting and warm to her, bringing her in so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable and the guys too, though they’re a little more reserved about it. Except Killian of course, he’s a brooding silent asshole sitting on the edge of the group. I doubt he was like that before I arrived, so I’ve clearly soured his mood. I just wish I knew what I had done to him to warrant this cold shoulder and maybe we could work it out.
Leaving Sloane with Olivia, I head to the bar to get us both a drink, feeling eyes on my back. A glance over my shoulder shows Killian burning a hole right through me. With a shake of my head, I look away and order, waiting patiently for the server to make the margaritas I ordered for us.
As he puts them on black square napkins, a large body steps up next to me, close enough I feel the air push against the side of my body and his scent hits me in the next second. “Jameson,” Killian orders, “No ice.”
He hands over a hundred and gestures toward my drinks, paying for them at the same time.
I’m feeling petty and a little mad, “We’re not friends,” I tell him, “And only friends pay for each other.” I slam my cash onto the bar in front of him, grab my drinks and walk away before he has a chance to give it back.
Sloane accepts her drink eagerly, taking a large sip the moment it’s in her hand. She’s sitting next to Dean but the space between them could fit a damn truck, and I swear Dean is physically leaning away from her.
What the fuck is it with these Archer brothers?
Ignoring him, I have a drink and then reach for Sloane, “Dance?”
“God yes,” She tips her head back, “I haven’t danced in so long!”
“I know,” I smile at her and hold her hand as I guide us both back down the steps and onto the dancefloor, finding a pocket in the crowd that gives us enough space so people don’t bump into us. The music thumps through me and there’s a little buzz in my blood thanks to the wine we had before coming out which helps me move a little smoother, my heart pounding inside my chest.
We dance and we drink too much, only returning to the table every so often to check in but we both needed this. Sloane has eased into it, the tension that had been stiffening her shoulders now loose so she’s enjoying herself. The alcohol helping.
The music drops to something a little more sultry, the beat low and hypnotic and as per my fashion, I makemy way to the nearest table. It wouldn’t be a night out if I didn’t end up on one. I’m a dancer. Iloveto dance, and Iloveto put on a show.
Bracing my hands on the tabletop, I shift my weight and begin to lift myself until I can sit and then move to stand up but before I can even straighten my legs, an arm wraps around my waist, and I’m yanked back.
I let out a scream that’s swallowed by the thumping beats of the music.
“Not tonight, Tiny Dancer,” Killian growls at my ear.
Frustration works through me, “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Stop being a brat,” He continues to hold me as he backs us away from the table and into the crowd, people swallowing us until it’s all I see. I don’t see the bar or any doors, just bodies grinding to the music all around me.
“Sloane!” I panic.
“Olivia took her back to the table,” Killian tells me, keeping his lips close to my ear so he doesn’t have to shout.
My back is to his chest, his arm banded around my middle firmly.
“What are we doing?” I ask him.
“You wanted to dance,” His arm loosens, “So dance.”
“With you?” I scoff and try to turn but he stops me,pressing forward with his hips until I can feel the outline of his cock against my ass cheek. He feels hard or at least semi hard because fuck, pretty sure I shouldn’t be able to feel that much of it.
Fine.
The low sultry beats of the music sway through me as I begin to roll my hips, pressing back harder with my ass so I can push into him. A hiss of breath teases some lose tendrils of hair at my ear and his hand moves until it’s splayed across my stomach. I home in on the feel of it, how he holds me tighter while I continue to grind against him.
Heat tumbles through me, blooming low in my abdomen as I grow wet between my thighs, the feel of him against me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He hardens further and his fingers flex, a low rumble sounding from his throat. My head thumps back against his shoulder while I continue to move.
He wanted me to dance. I’m dancing.
“Savannah,” My name is a rasp from his lips, almost pleading. It’s a sound I have never heard from him before, and it only spurs me to go harder. We’re not friends so this doesn’t matter. I’m not crossing a line.
