She crossed her arms. “I could ask the same of you.”
He sighed. “Because I don’t think you wanted to lie to me, and I believe that you’re doing what you think is right.” He mirrored her stance. “We both want to do what’s right, but at this point we’re not sure it’s the same thing.”
The music grew drastically louder and they both glanced down the hall to see a trio of laughing, unsteady young men exit the club.
Jason crossed to her side of the corridor and leaned against the wall, just inches away, his handsome face glowing under the golden lamplight as he looked down at her. He caressed her shoulder with his large hand, sending a cascade of sensation down her arm. “I trust you to have my back, Em. I hope you trust me to have yours.”
She hesitated. His sense of loyalty ran deep, but where did it lie? “I do. But if you have to choose between me and Byron—even if he’s in the wrong—I’m afraid you’ll choose him.”
Jason opened his mouth and then closed it again, sorrow filling his dark eyes. “If he’s guilty, I promise I won’t stand in your way. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you listen in on everything with Todd, okay? No hiding. No secrets.”
She nodded. It was more than she could offer him.
As the three men passed, speaking Spanish in the universally loud way of the drunk, Jason took her hand and led her toward the club. At the end of the hall, he opened the heavy door with a mermaid carved into the thick wood.
Dance music crashed over them, making her ears ache as he ushered her past a bouncer dressed in black, and into a writhing throng of shiny, sweaty bodies.
The room had a low-curved ceiling, the plaster washed in dark pink paint and lit with oversized crystal chandeliers. Probably an old ballroom-slash-bunker. And despite the cold blast pouring from vents overhead, the air was hot and humid as August in Virginia.
Her head began to itch beneath the wig, and sweat beaded on the back of her neck.
Carving a path through the crowd by sheer dint of his size, Jason approached the long bar and ordered two vodkas, removing his wallet to lay a small stack of Swiss francs on the polished wood.
She’d just stuffed her sweater into her bag when he handed her a glass and downed his drink in one gulp before ordering another. What was he doing?
She took a sip and managed not to grimace. He thanked the bartender, a tough-looking blonde with her hair in elaborate braids, wearing a skimpy black tank top that revealed a tattooed sleeve of flowers on one arm and half of her red bra.
Flashing Emma a seductive smile that made her stomach flip, Jason grabbed her free hand. “Come on,” he mouthed, urging her into the pulsing mass of people.
Since they were here to hide out, she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. It wasn’t like they were going to be able to while away the night with idle chit chat when she could barely hear herself think, let alone hear a word he said.
Backing into a space between two couples and a group of young men, she downed her drink and raised her arms, holding her shot glass aloft, shimmying her hips to the beat. Jason’s eyes darkened as his gaze followed her movement, and he joined in, so close she could feel the heat coming off his skin.
A twenty-something dude with spiky brown hair and tight clothes sidled close to Emma and whispered something incomprehensible in her ear.
She smiled, but shook her head and angled her body away, placing her free hand on Jason’s chest.
His muscles tensed beneath her touch and she looked up to find him scowling at the man who’d tried to cut in. Swallowing a smile, she slid her arms around his sweat-dampened neck, letting her empty glass dangle.
He slipped an arm around her waist, pressing their bodies together, and she nearly melted through the floor. Her breath shortened, and for a moment, everything faded away except the sight of his handsome face, his dark eyes like warm chocolate, the soft lips she wanted to feel on every inch of her skin.
Someone jostled them, breaking the moment. Thank God.
Jason expertly guided her around the rowdy group and sidled up to an empty bar-height table stationed against a wall. He set both of their glasses on the black tablecloth and tugged her back into the crowd.
She was helpless to do anything but follow.
Jason’s heart raced out of control, and it had nothing to do with the fact that the crowd concealing them could also hide a threat until it was too late.
Emma rose onto her tiptoes and urged him down so she could speak into his ear. “Pretend we’re together.” Her warm breath tickled his neck, and the soft scent of her filled his nostrils.
Pretend they were together? Hell, at this point he was a gold-medalist in that sport.
As she dropped back to normal height, he let his hands skim down her sides, savoring her curves before coming to rest on her swaying hips.
She gripped his biceps and swiveled to the beat. Every brush of her body against his shot sparks across his skin. A few more minutes of this might kill him. Or, at the very least, make him harder than the polished concrete under their feet.
Slipping an arm around her back, he leaned down to ask what she’d seen.
