He drives up hard into me. “I don’t know, but I never want it to stop. You’re part of me, now. The best part.” He lodges deeper, and I fall apart in his arms. He holds me tighter, his hips bucking. “Yeah, just like that. Let me know how good it feels. Oh,fuck.” He growls into my neck, and I feel him jerk as he finds his bliss. When he stills, I rest my head on his shoulder while we catch our breath and my heart slows to its usual pace.
He weaves his fingers between mine. “Wanna come dancing on Friday? I want to take you out like you deserve.”
I laugh, unsure where the question came from, but I’m totally down for it. I haven’t gone dancing in months. “Count me in.”
13
Gabe
Inviting Sydney to go dancing was an impulsive idea. One I heartily regret. I wanted to give her something special, a night that would be out of the ordinary for us and cement our new status as a couple. I stand by that sentiment, but in between exercise, sparring, talking strategy with Dad and Seth, and making time to see her, when Friday rolls around, I’m dead on my feet. I’d much rather have a quiet night in, preferably napping on the sofa with my arms around my girl, but she’s already messaged several times today, and I know how much she’s looking forward to our outing. I can’t let her down.
So instead of calling my chef and requesting dinner for two, I heat a meal from the freezer and eat alone, then dress in club-appropriate attire and take a cab to Sydney’s place. I’m later than I said I would be because training went longer than expected, but at least I texted to let her know, so hopefully she isn’t too upset. When she lets me in, she’s looking sexier than ever in a black dress that stops at mid-thigh and leaves a lot of important places bare.
“Only an hour and a half late.” A ghost of a smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
I study her expression, looking for an indication of her mood, but it’s neutral. “Sorry, Seth wanted me to practice takedowns.”
“That’s okay.” She shrugs. “I appreciate you messaging.”
Cautiously, I bend and kiss her, hoping she won’t turn away. She doesn’t, thank God. “You look beautiful. You’re going to be the death of me, dressed like that.”
She brightens and performs a pirouette, her hair swirling around her face, dark eyes glittering. “You like it?”
“Hell, yes.” Especially the way the fabric clings to her curves. Her body is dynamite, and there’s nothing I want more than to get my hands on her. But tonight isn’t about me, it’s about her. Aboutus.I’ve already screwed up enough by being late, reminding her of why she was reluctant to give me a chance in the first place. “Are you ready to go? I have a taxi waiting outside to take us to Flashlight, if that works for you.” Flashlight is the most exclusive club in town.
Her eyes light up, and my lateness seems forgotten. “Do you think they’ll let us in?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Between my net worth and public stature, I think we’ll be okay.”
She shakes her head, her smile wry. “I forget about that sometimes. To me, you’re just my Gabe.”
That’s what I love about her. I’m a person, not an opportunity, or a legacy, or whatever else people see when they look at me.Love. I turn the word over in my mind. I do love her. Have for years. But I’m in danger of loving her in the deepest way possible, and while I’ll never admit it, I’m worried this won’t be the last time I’m late or a no-show, giving her a reason to doubt me. It seems inevitable.
“I’ll just get my ID.” She hurries into her room and returns a moment later, sliding something into her bra.Jesus, is that where modern women store things? “Come on.” Impatiently, she tugs me to the door. I cast a longing look over my shoulder at her sofa, and then follow her out.
The drive takes a while because of traffic, but I manage to keep my hands to myself—mostly. When we arrive, I tuck Sydney under my arm and pass the line lingering outside the entrance, nodding to the bouncer, who waves me through without any fuss. I glance down at Sydney. Her eyes are wide.
“Wow, talk about special treatment. I’d have had to line up for hours if you weren’t here.”
“Perks of the job.” Guilt sinks its claws into me because I haven’t taken her out more often. This is something we should have done together, even as friends, isn’t it? “Want a drink?”
“Nuh-uh. I want to dance.” Taking my hand, she pulls me into the crowd of gyrating people.
Despite not being the kind of guy who’s at home on the dance floor, I can hold my own. Growing up in a boxing ring means I’m light on my feet, and I’m easily the most graceful pro fighter at Crown MMA Gym—a badge I wear with honor. It makes me lethal. I whirl Sydney around, catching her by surprise, and adore the flash of teeth between her lips as she grins.
We dance, and I take full advantage of the opportunity to touch her, running my hands over the outline of her body, snagging my fingers in her hair, which she must have straightened because it falls in a veil over her shoulders and moves with her as she sways. So goddamn erotic. The air between us sizzles with tension, and I know she feels it every bit as much as I do because her pupils are enormous.
At one point, she excuses herself to go to the ladies’ room and I slip to the edge of the crowd to wait, brushing off a couple of women who approach. When she emerges, I track her progress across the room, eyes narrowing when some douche in a white suit grabs her arm, stopping her. She says something and tries to shake him off, but he doesn’t let go.
Scowling, I stride toward them and I’m at her side in an instant. “Is there a problem here?”
The douche has a friend with him, and the guy clearly recognizes me. Unlike the douche himself, who glances my way dismissively. “Excuse me, pal, I’m trying to talk to the lady.”
“She’s with me.”
“I am.” Sydney nods firmly, but can’t detach from him because he’s still gripping her tightly enough to cut off her circulation. If he doesn’t release her within the next ten seconds, I’m going to be really pissed.
“Dude, that’s Gabe Mendoza,” the douche’s friend hisses. “Let her go.”
