At least sex won’t hurt.
My buzz thins.
What’s wrong with you? Why did you even think that? It’s not going to be painful. Not everyone’s like him.
But what if…
No, I’m not the same girl. I know how to defend myself better now.
Something in my face must shift because Floppy-Hair—hang on, I think his name is Colby—leans in. I have to read his lips since the music’s too loud for anything else.
“You good?”
His brown eyes look soft. Hands loose at his sides.
I exhale. People can lie with words, but with most, their body language gives them away. Aaron had been the exception.
I nod and stretch my mouth into something that passes for a smile. I don’t stop him when he turns me away from him andpulls me backward. His chest grazes my back, his breath hitting the shell of my ear.
The club’s packed shoulder-to-shoulder, air thick with perfume, cologne, and sweat—an entire ecosystem of bodies grinding and breathing in unison.
Warm fingers sweep my hair aside, and then lips touch the back of my neck. My breath stutters, but not from desire. His mouth trails to the edge of the fabric over my shoulder, as one of his hands lifts to my stomach and presses me against the bulge growing against my back.
I’d dressed intentionally for tonight. The elbow-length sleeves and high boat neck of the black mini dress hide my scars—but the back of the dress plunges all the way to my tailbone.
The dress is deliberately seductive and seems to have served its purpose as I let him grind himself into me.
However, I’m completely unaffected, and that’s the problem.
Colby leans in, lips on my neck again. The crowd sways with the music, and his body presses fully against me, with one arm curving under my breasts and the other around my stomach.
My body’s supposed to respond to this.
That was the deal.
Numb the brain with alcohol. Let the animal instincts of my body take over.
But I feel… nothing.
Not the slightest iota of arousal.
Familiar frustration fills my throat.
I’m broken.
The thought cracks something in me, and pressure builds in my chest.
No, this is fine. I’ll get another drink. I’ve just let too much time pass since the last round. A couple more shots and thiswillwork.
Lifting my arm, I point toward the bar and look over my shoulder at him. Even under the strobe lights, I can see the flush of his cheeks, the hooded hunger in his eyes.
Finally, I feel something.
Not arousal.
Fear.
I shove away from him, into the crush of bodies, the urgency behind my sternum clutching painfully. The bar is packed three bodies deep when Colby appears at my side, breath hot on my ear. “Might take a while. Want to get out of here?”
