I recognized the girl. She was on the same floor as myself last semester, and the girl with her was Tasmin Shaw. Taz’s boyfriend was on her other side.
“Daniels.” The same frat brother fell into my side. His bourbon breath wafting over me. “They got a whole dance floor set up downstairs. What do you say? Wanna go and grope each other in the dark?” He belched, but remained smiling at me.
Two things happened after that.
I saw Cruz across the room. He was standing by the wall, talking with a bunch of people. A girl was there. He pushed up one of his arm sleeves, his fingers going through his wet hair. He must’ve just showered. He was wearing jeans that hung from his lean hips, and a Grant West vintage hockey shirt. His number was in the top left corner, over a pair of crossing hockey sticks. The back would have his last name in big and bold faded print, some parts of it chipping off. It was the design of the shirt, but I had a weakness for those types of clothes.
God. I could feel the press of him against me. How he ran his hands up the inside of my legs, how he spread them.
My body went from cold, to inferno levels, back to cold because that girl was on him, almost literally. She had a hand on his bicep, and another just above his wrist.
She was tracing his arm.
The air seized out of me. An icy rage had formed in me.
He looked down, his eyes going to hers as her head was tipped up towards him.
She leaned more into him, swaying, giving him a great view of her cleavage. Or hell, if he could see down her shirt.
Pain sliced through me because he wasn’t shoving her hand off. His lips were moving. He was talking to her.
Her head tilted back. She was laughing and as she did, she swayed back into him, using the movement so her whole body was almost pressed into his.
It was all happening in slow motion now, and she reached for his neck, and stood up on her toes. Her head angled for his.
The second thing that happened: Tasmin started for me. I noticed it from the periphery of my eyes, and I wanted to look anywhere else, but I couldn’t. I was watching a bad dream happening in real life, right in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it.
She caught him, her hands going to each side of his face, and she smashed her lips to his.
My stomach dropped to my feet.
I ripped my gaze away.
Taz had started to approach me, but she paused at seeing my face. “Mara?”
My gaze went past her, seeing Flynn Carrington walking into the house with a bunch of his brothers and girls. One girl was hanging on his arm, but he saw me, and a cocky smirk came over him.
Then a body passed between us. It was Cruz.
I wasn’t thinking anymore. I shoved past Taz, going for him.
I could feel Carrington’s eyes on me, but it was nothing compared to the burn inside of me from seeing Cruz and that girl.
He noticed me a few steps away. “Mara—”
I took his arm, a tingling already starting from just the one touch, and dragged him down into the basement.
My head was swimming. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew I needed to do something. Anything. I needed to get away, but the burn was rising in my body.
His hands found my hips. “Wait.”
He tried halting me, but I kept going, shaking my head. I was digging in here. “No.”
Gavin’s friend had said dancing in the dark, but I hadn’t known what he meant. I knew now. They set up their main living area in the basement as the entire dance floor, but it was almost completely in the dark. Dark shadows could be seen, grinding against each other, as the music was blaring from the corner.
I stopped at the end of the stairs. Did I want to do that? Dance in the dark with him?
Cruz took over, taking my hand, and led the way this time. He wound us through the couples until we were in a far corner. My back was to the wall, and he was in front of me. Over me. His hands went to both sides of me, and he leaned down. His head was bent towards me. He was so close, his hips touching mine. I reached down, touching his sides, intending to push him away.
I pulled him in.
I felt his breath as he asked, “I know you don’t do personal, but it’s obvious something is wrong.”
“Did you kiss her back?”
He went rigid. “What?”
“That girl. I saw her. Did you kiss her back? Do you want to fuck her?”
He didn’t answer.
I expelled a savage curse. “If you do—”
His hand cupped the back of my neck. “What? If I do, then what?” His body pushed further against me. I was pinned against the wall, and he moved one of his legs between me, lifting me up so I was straddling him. “You’ll do what?”
Lust was warring with anger. Goddamn him.
That burn was in me, and it was searing me. Like it was tattooing the feeling of watching her kiss him permanently inside of me. I’d never be rid of it.
“You’ll do what, Mara?” His voice was like silk, though it wasn’t true. He was pissed. It was radiating off of him, but so was I.
I was livid.
“You fuck her, we’re done.”
He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring, and he stared at me for a minute before he took my hand, and moved me further into the dance floor. There were others around us, others that could see us, but our movements were still shadowed.
The music was covering our conversation, but it went up a whole level so normal conversation, even this close was barely audible. Cruz leaned down, his mouth right at my ear as he grated out, “Rules are that we don’t sleep with others. That’s it. That’s all.” His hand went to my hip, his fingers slowly wrapping around me.
He began moving against me, in rhythm with the music.
“What are you doing?”
His mouth moved to my ear, his hand rising up, slipping under my shirt. “You’re going to say that shit to me?” His teeth nipped my ear, pulling on my lobe. He yanked me further against him, lifting me a little so I was again almost straddling his leg. His hand slid down to my hip, and he pressed me into him. He began moving me, slow, with purpose, and it was delicious.
Heat surged through me.
His breath was caressing me. “Like I don’t know our agreement?” His mouth dipped, finding my throat.
Desire spread through me, pushing the other emotions away, overriding them.
His mouth moved to the other side of my throat, and he grasped my throat, moving my head for him. He began kissing me, sucking, and a pounding began to take over inside of me.
“You got how many fuckers hanging around you? Wanting you? Telling you they want you? And you go crazy over one girl? A puck bunny?” He lifted his head, but his hand still held my neck captive. His eyes were burning into mine. His nostrils flared again. “You think I like seeing that shit?” He was moving to the music so if anyone was watching, they’d think we were still dancing, but we were barely dancing. His hand spread out over my hip, moving to my ass, and he was lifting me, helping me grind over his leg. His head bent back down. His nose up the side of my chin, my cheek. Tingles spread out in his trail.
The need for him was building. I grasped for his arm, where she had touched him.
Fuck her. Fuck him. But my fingers pressed down, and I used that to help me climb more up him, rubbing against him as I began to take over.
He shifted, almost bouncing me up. Both of his hands were on my ass, and he was walking us somewhere. I was beyond caring, beyond caring who saw us, beyond remembering why I had cared in the first place.