Gingerly, I lift my hand, trailing my fingers softly across the dark stubble on his chin and cheeks.
“Hmm.” Closing his eyes, he leans into my touch as we’re jostled from the side. We should probably leave the dance floor, but I don’t want to break this connection. I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of the real Dillon, and I like it.
He moves us back a little to where it’s less crowded, and he continues to hold me like this, with his chest to my back, as we dance, grinding against one another, uncaring who sees. There is no sign of Ash, Audrey, or Cat, but I’m not worried. I know my Irish friends will look after my bestie, and I’m sure they just left to give us some privacy.
Dillon’s hands wander, palming my stomach, lingering on my hips, and gliding up and down my arms as we gyrate together to the sound of our own beat. Nibbling on my neck, he licks a path up and down my sensitive flesh with his hot tongue, and low moans trickle out of my lips. His expert fingers work my body into a tizzy until I’m no longer in control. My head is thrust back on his shoulder, my eyes are closed, my body flush against him, and I’ve never felt more wanton or more desired. I’m majorly turned on by the sizzling touch of his hands and the feel of his hard-on digging into my back. I’m seriously considering eating my words and dragging him someplace to have my wicked way with him when something cold and sticky unexpectedly hits my face and my upper body, and I scream.
“What the fuck, Breda?” Dillon snaps, as I blink my eyes open, wincing when liquid drips from my eyelashes into my eyes. The black-haired skank smirks at me, holding an empty pint glass in her hand. Looking down, I see my shirt took the brunt of her jealousy. Sopping wet cotton adheres to my stomach and my chest like a second skin. Warm hands grip my upper arms as Dillon turns me around to face him. He curses, glaring at Breda over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I need to go.” I attempt to wriggle out of his arms, but he holds me tight, piercing me with a stern look.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m a fucking mess, Dillon,” I say, in case he’s missed the obvious. I bet I’m rocking a great pair of panda eyes, and last time I checked, that shit isn’t attractive.
“I have a spare shirt in my bag, and I’ll take you to the staff toilets to clean up. She’s not ruining your night.” He slides his hands down my arms, turning one of my palms over and lacing his fingers in mine. It’s a sweet gesture, one I would never have thought him capable of.
“C’mon, Dillon. It was only a joke,” Breda says from behind me.
Keeping my fingers locked in Dillon’s, I turn around to face her.
“You’re a clingy jealous cunt, and I’m sick of your shit,” Dillon seethes, fixing her with the full extent of his disgust. “You’re not welcome around us anymore, so fuck off.”
“You’re dumping me for her?!” she screeches, waving her hands around like a crazy person. Her eyeballs are rolling around in her head, and she’s clearly high as a kite.
“That would imply we were in a relationship, which we aren’t,” Dillon hisses. “We fucked one time, Breda. One time, and it was a big mistake. I’ve tried letting you down gently, but fuck that shit. You don’t get to throw your drink in anyone’s face. Grace hasn’t done anything to you, and that shit you just pulled is not on. In case it’s not clear, I’m not interested in you, now or ever, so back the fuck off before I have you thrown out.”
He doesn’t wait for her to reply, leading me off the dance floor to a staff door at the back of the room. A burly man with heavy eyebrows and a thickset mustache guards the entrance, but he nods at Dillon, stepping aside to let us enter.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Dillon says, glancing worriedly at me as he pulls me along the narrow hallway. A few bodies loiter inside a large room on our left, but no one bats an eye as we pass by.
“It’s not your fault your psycho radar is out of whack,” I deadpan. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I’m too wet, sticky, and pissed off to care.
“I’m pretty sure it is my fault.” He shoots me a sheepish look as he leads me into a small coatroom. Coats and jackets hang off hooks on the wall, and a variety of bags are stuffed into open cubby holes on the other side of the space. “I only brought her to your party to wind you up, and now she’s like a dose of bad breath I can’t shake.” He removes a black duffel bag from one of the holes, dropping it on the ground.