I laugh it off with a wave and Finn tilts his head at how clearly fake it sounds.
“What’s up with you? I’ve been watching that guy flirt with you all night and you’d normally have banged him in the bathroom by now, but you look ready to murder him instead.”
His tone is joking, which tells me he has no idea how close that is to the truth. One look from the curly-haired, muscled daddy of a man and I’d have been on my knees before the words were out of his mouth—if the demon inside me didn’t have a new obsession. Instead, every suggestive word and heated glance he sends my way have my hackles rising in irritation.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Just feeling off today I guess.”
“Riiiiight,” he says, still skeptical.
I refill the glass of water he helped himself to when I wasn’t paying attention and slide it back to him.
“Thanks.” He’s still eyeing me like he can figure out what’s wrong if he looks hard enough.
“Sure. So what’s up with you?” I ask, forcing the words through my teeth even though I’m a terrible friend today and couldn’t care less what he has to say.
“I’ve got this new beat in my head, thinking I might give it a spin later.” Finn’s head is bobbing and his fingers are tapping on the bar like he’s playing it right now. It finally pulls a grin to my face, dissipating some of the angst that’s been simmering under my skin the last couple hours.
“Yeah? That’s awesome, it’s been a while since you came up with something new. You should give it a go!”
Another patron waves me over and Finn grins with a nod, understanding I can’t stay and chat even though he’s on his break. I pour shots and refill drinks, and finally come to the conclusion that maybe sexy-bear-daddy is exactly what I need tonight.
I need to get out of my own head, and he seems like he’s ready for the challenge. I check him out again, glancing over the too-tight tee he’s wearing and knowing the scruff along his jaw would feel delightfully rough against my own skin. I try to imagine it, where he’d put his hands, what he might say, how I’d feel in response.
A few minutes later, I groan in defeat. Despite my best efforts at returning his flirting, I can’t get into it. I end up shaking my head at him with a shrug of apology, and he winks at me before turning around to survey the dance floor. I don’t blame him. I’m a lost cause at this point. My thoughts are stuck on long, wispy silver hair and wondering what color eyes go with it.
My single memory and multiple daydreams cause me to hallucinate, and I start catching flashes of shimmering hair through the throngs of dancers. I roll my eyes at myself, halfhoping I don’t see her again because this woman is clearly a problem for the demon.
I yank the tap in front of me, frothy beer pouring into the glass I’m holding, then I slide it across the bar and do a double take. There’s a woman leaning on the bar next to the person I just served.
A woman with silver hair reflecting the colored lights in the club.
The woman I’m newly obsessed with is right in front of me, ordering three shots of tequila with a voice like velvet.
My eyes trace as much of her as I can see, which isn’t much. Dark eyes—too dark to tell the color in this lighting—a dainty nose and slightly pointed chin. Her shoulders are thrown back, daring anyone to mess with her, and it immediately makes me want to give her trouble.
I grin, and it feels manic on my face. I’m definitely showing too many teeth, but I can’t possibly rein it in. She’s stunning and fierce and terrifying.
I drop the shot glasses in front of her and wait until she meets my eyes before raising the bottle to pour. I sink into her dark gaze and hold eye contact with her, having poured enough shots in my day to know exactly when and how much to move the bottle to fill up all three glasses. I wink when I lower it, my grin never leaving my face, and my fingers itch to light the shots on fire. My inner demon wants to give her a show, but I set the bottle down and grip the edge of the bar instead.
She narrows her eyes, not breaking our eye contact, and downs one shot after the other, slamming each empty glass on the bar in front of her. When she throws back the third, my eyes travel down her slim neck, watching her throat bob as she swallows. She has a tattoo, sparrows taking flight behind her ear and part way down her neck.
My gut clenches, and it feels like there’s fire behind my eyes. It’s a new feeling, one I have no idea what to do with, and I wonder if there might be flames reflected in my eyes. That’s how it feels, anyway, but she doesn’t so much as flinch when my gaze travels back up and meets hers again. I raise one eyebrow, waiting for her next move.
Her face doesn’t change, her expression remaining stone cold as she turns and strides to the dance floor. I’d be disappointed, but now I can see the rest of her. My eyes snag on the three silver bracelets looped around one dainty wrist, then on the bare skin between her dark crop top and high-waisted pants, and finally on the slight curve of her cute little ass.
She doesn’t approach anyone. Instead, she dances alone, losing herself to the beat as her hips roll, and my irritation reignites in my chest. I wish I wasn’t working so I could go out there and dance with her. Talk to her. Worship her.Take her.
Ooookay, so my inner demon hasstrongthoughts about her. Cool cool cool. My therapist will love this development.
A swanky looking guy grinds up behind my starlight girl and she dances with him for a bit, but then shakes her head when he leans down to speak in her ear. He turns away to feel up someone else, and she dances up behind another girl. Their limbs intertwine and their bodies bump and sway to the beat as colored lights reflect off their sweat-slicked skin.
I get a rush at the bar and she’s out of my sight for a few minutes as the bodies on the dance floor shift. Then Finn sets the music to auto play while he takes another break, making his way behind the bar to help himself to a drink.
“Still waiting on that new track!” I say, nodding to him.
He grins in reply and shrugs one shoulder. I take it to mean he hasn’t decided yet.
I’m mid-pour on an IPA when the crowd parts and I catch a glimpse of her again—making out with the girl she was dancingwith. Time stands still and the image is seared into my brain. Hands on hips and tangled in hair, legs between the others’ thighs as they dance and grind on each other, a flash of tongue between parted lips.
