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“I want to fuck you, if we’re being honest, baby,” I say.

Her brows rise. “Oh yeah?”

Shifting my stool closer, I look down, nose almost touching hers. “Yeah. Maybe after we dance, have another drink…maybe we go in the bathroom.”

“Oh?” Her voice drops. It’s husky now.

“Maybe I pull those panties to the side and touch your pussy?”

“Just touch it?” Her lashes flutter.

“I can fuck it,” I murmur. “Quick, make you come on my fingers.”

She exhales, leaning away to empty her wine. Her face is flushed, eyes glittering. I shoot the rest of my whiskey and stand, lifting her from the stool. Her heels hit the ground with a sharp click.

“Dance with me?” I ask.

She smiles, and I pull her into the crowd. I think all we both needed was a little liquid courage, some light flirting, and a dark room. My body is loose, and she’s letting me hold her against my chest. The song is slow now. I’m so aware of every sensation. Her soft breasts, the inward curve of her waist, the soft brush of her bare leg against my pants. Will we make it back to the hotel before I fuck her? I don’t know, but I kind of doubt it.

I rest my chin on the top of her head.

God, I didn’t realize falling for someone could hurt this bad.

We sway for what feels like forever. It’s not long enough. Then, the music changes, and we’re on a faster song with a little more kick to it. I take her hand and swing her out, pulling her back to my chest. She giggles, face flushed from wine. It makes her eyes sparkle.

It’s nearly an hour later when we finally make it back to our seats. She has another wine. I make her drink some water with it.

“You want to go back and eat?” I ask.

She touches my thigh, running her palm up. God, my dick has a hair trigger tonight. It’s rock hard instantly, and when she touches it over my pants, I can’t bite back a moan. Our eyes lock. I lean in, and she falls into me, kissing me hard.

That’s it. We’re fucking in the bathroom.

I lift her off the barstool, taking her hand and pulling her into the back hallway. There’s a fucking line for the men’s single stall. And for the women’s to the left. Undeterred, I keep walking, even though I don’t know where I’m going. Before I left, I put a condom in my pocket, just in case. Turns out, past-Coen had the right idea, because present-Coen’s brain is shut off and his dick is wide awake.

We turn a corner at the end of the hall.

“There’s a closet,” I say.

Before she has a chance to respond, I pull her into a musty little closet and pull the curtain. We both go still, panting. There isn’t much space, but there is a stack of extra bar stools and a shelf. Gripping her waist, I heft her up, balancing her on the ledge. Big eyes find mine in the dark.

“Your pussy wet, baby?” I breathe, unzipping my pants.

“Yes,” she gasps, nodding hard.

I unleash my cock and take out the condom, rolling it on. She watches my every move, breasts heaving against the bodice of her dress. Then, we fall against the shelf, and my mouth finds hers, breathing in her scent. Between our bodies, I find my dick and guide it between her thighs. She moans into my mouth as I fill her pussy, thrusting deep in a single stroke.

“Oh,” she lets out, pulling back. “Oh—right there.”

I touch her clit. She grips the edge of the shelf as I fuck and touch her, angling my hips so the head of my cock hits the front wall of her pussy. She bites her lip, and I brace her between my body and the shelf so I can put my other hand over her mouth as she comes. Her eyes roll back, and the shudder through her hips sends me over the edge with her. We both go still, shaking lightly.

“Fuck me,” I whisper.

She laughs softly. “That might have been the hottest thing we’ve ever done,” she says.

I kiss her, long and deep. “Oh, it was. But the night’s still young.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE