16. Hunter

Chapter 16

Hunter

then

Sweat drips down my jawline and into my exposed cleavage.

My heart beats in time to the rhythm, as if the bass reverberates straight from my soul.

I lose myself in the crowd of gyrating bodies and chaos and energy.

Splice is wild tonight. The dance floor is packed, and for the first time since I arrived in London, I'm filled with something other than sadness.

Louie and I have a rare night off together, and yet here we are, in the middle of the dance floor at our place of employment.

Before we left the flat, we agreed to stay close and to go home together at the end of the night. Now that we're a few drinks in, I'm not so sure Louie can keep her word. Not with the way she's gleefully grinding with a hulk of a man who claims to be an Australian body builder.

Despite being the third wheel, I keep up and shift with them every time they move.

Trouble is, they're getting more handsy as the night goes on and the drinks keep coming, and it's becoming awkward .

A twinge of anxiety creeps up my spine. Louie could decide to continue what they've started elsewhere. I don't know which scenario I fear more: that she'll go to his place and I'll be forced to go home alone, or that she'll bring him back to our flat and I'll have to share a bathroom with this stranger tomorrow morning.

With a huff, I push the worries from my mind and throw both hands up in the air. Head tipped back, I relish the way the lights dance around me and let the music fuel my soul.

As the music builds, I laugh. The energy on the dance floor is palpable. Being in the middle of the chaos instead of working front of house is a whole new experience. When the beat drops, the crowd goes wild.

I'm lost in the music when a large hand brushes over my left hip. When instead of disappearing, the touch turns into a caress and then a firm hold, I spin around to swat it away.

Before I can free myself, a set of blue-gray eyes sears into me and stuns me stupid.

Spence, with his plush, dark-pink lips surrounded by thick black stubble, and a gorgeous full head of hair, hits me with a smirk so intense I swear I'd stumble forward if his hand weren't still holding my hip so tightly.

"Hello, love."

Notes of cardamom and another profoundly masculine scent overwhelm my senses as I shift forward and put space between us.

"I'm allowed to be here," I huff, my voice barely audible over the crowd.

Spence cocks one brow and pulls me closer.

Craning my neck, I cup my hands and speak directly into his ear. "I'm not working tonight."

The last thing I need is for the owner of the club to think I take my breaks on the dance floor.

"By all means, then," he says with a low chuckle, "carry on."

I scoff at his dismissiveness while also noting the way he's still gripping my hip .

"I can't just carry on," I grit out. "You shouldn't be here."

His eyes go wide in shock.

My stomach plummets. Did I really just snap at my boss's boss's boss in his own club?

"Might I remind you—"

"Sorry. Shit," I say as a wave of panic hits me. "I just meant you shouldn't be here on the dance floor. With me."

Oh, brother. I'm talking myself into a hole. Finding me on the dance floor doesn't mean he pursued me.

"I just mean," I fumble to explain, "I'm your employee—" My words are cut off when I'm hit from behind. Not hard enough to make me lose my footing, but I have to lean forward to dodge an elbow to the head. Which, unfortunately, places me far too close to the man I'm trying to get some space from.

Spence wraps his arms around my low back and holds me securely in place. We're so close our thighs are touching. Then he's pulling me impossibly closer, holding me tighter, his hips swaying to the beat. My body willingly follows.

"I'm your employee." The words are barely more than a breath. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck. Wetting my lips, I part them ever so slightly, then follow his lead and swivel my body in time to the music.

His touch sets my skin ablaze. Butterflies riot in my belly as my hips follow his in time to the music.

What the hell am I doing?

The noise of the crowd is deafening. Maddening.

Yet it's as if we're the only people on the dance floor.

Our eyes lock. I lick my lips. Again.

"I need this job," I whisper.

"Okay." He nods once, his face hovering over mine, inching closer and making it abundantly clear he doesn't plan to let me go.

"You own this club." I find my voice and speak louder this time. "I need this job. "

My meaning is clear, yet rather than backing off, I splay my hands on his chest. Then, of their own accord, they creep up to his shoulders, then lock around his neck.

I press my body to his while the music sets my soul burning.

Our faces are close, our breaths mingling. It only takes the slightest shift for his lips to brush mine. Then he's kissing me.

At first, it's so soft I barely feel it. It doesn't take long, though, to build into so much more.

As the beat quickens, my heart rate increases.

Spence grips my face and feeds me his tongue, taking what he wants and giving me everything I didn't know I needed.

With one hand, he cradles my head. He keeps the other firmly planted on my low back. Our tongues dance as our bodies come together, a cacophony of sensation overwhelming me far beyond that of the volume of the club.

When he finally pulls back, we're both breathless.

Breathless and still.

Panting and staring at one another in awe.

"I'm selling the club," he announces, his voice gravelly. One hand remains splayed against the small of my back, keeping me pressed up against his body.

I'm sticky and sweaty, tipsy and so fucking turned on.

We're not even moving. We're just standing here, pressed into one another, as the world moves and gyrates and thrums around us.

"Wait, what? You're selling this club?"

Confusion and panic flood me. New ownership could mean cleaning house and hiring new staff. I really need this job.

He hums. The sound is drowned out, but the rumble of his chest vibrates through me. "I wasn't planning on it until this moment, but now that I know what's at stake, I have every intention of letting it go."

My stomach drops. " What ?"

Eyes softening, he brushes the hair off my damp forehead .

I should be embarrassed. I'm dripping with sweat and on fire in more ways than one. But the gesture is more intimate and lovely and real than anything I've experienced in weeks.

"If my position as the owner of the club is off-putting or a barrier to this," he says with a squeeze to my hip, "then I'll sell."

I stumble back, reeling and so out of my depth.

This man… this night… it's all too much.

Popping up on my toes, I crane my neck and search for Louie. Eventually, I spot her in the corner sucking face with her new friend from down under.

"I've got to go." I pull away from Spence and stride over to my friend.

"Hey, I'm ready to head out," I tell her, not caring that I'm interrupting.

She pulls away. She's dazed and tipsy, but her eyes quickly clear, making it obvious she's with it enough to consent to whatever's about to happen between her and Boomerang Bob.

"You're good?"

"So good," she breathes with hearts in her eyes. "We're going back to Ernie's place. Do you… do you want to join us?"

Oh.

Oh my.

"No thanks," I quickly tell her, staving off a laugh. "You two have fun and be safe."

Satisfied that she's all set, I turn on my heel and head to the door.

I wave goodbye to Angelo and the bouncer standing near the hostess stand with the girl working tonight—Rose, I think.

Rose is gorgeous, with natural red hair and freckles along the bridge of her nose. She's wearing the signature locket, of course, but hers is open and turned out, making it clear that she's not as innocent as she looks.

"Wait." A hand circles my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. "Where are you going?" Spence demands. He steps up so close I can feel the heat of him at my back.

"I'm going home," I tell him, keeping my expression cool. "Alone. "

Yes, the kiss we just shared was one of the hottest of my life. But that's all it was. That's all we'll be. I need to keep my head on straight and keep my wits about me around this man.

"Let me at least call you a cab."

"I'm good," I insist with a wave. "I live two blocks from here."

Spence scoffs, his eyes flashing. "You can't walk."

I yank my wrist out of his hold. "I absolutely can." The way this man barks out commands makes me all sorts of haughty and defiant. "Despite your ruse of a monarchy, I believe this is a free country, so I'll walk where I please, when I please."

His lips part, and a breath escapes him. "There's no way I'll let you take even a single step alone in London after midnight. I'll call a cab."

I shake my head. "I'm not paying cab fare for two blocks!" Plus, my feet are killing me. I'll have to stand out there and wait for longer than it would take me to walk.

"Fine, then," he relents. "I'll have my car brought around."

Hackles raised, I stab his chest with a finger. "I'm not getting in the car with you."

Spence's responding expression is deadpan. "I don't drive my own car, Firecracker."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he doesn't.

He lifts the phone to his ear, says something quickly, then hangs up.

"Gerald will take you home."

The frustration this arrogant man brings out in me bubbles up. "And how do I know Gerald isn't a murderer who's about to kidnap me and turn me into a meat-suit sex doll?"

Spence's eyes widen in horror. "A—a what? Good grief. All that American media really does take its toll."

It's my turn to cross my arms over my chest and glare.

With a sigh, Spence runs a hand along his jaw. "Gerald is seventy-eight years old and has been employed by my family for six decades. I assure you he is kind, deeply devoted to his wife, and has no interest in turning you into a meat suit. He will get you home safely. "

My feet ache, and it's hard to deny that a ride is appealing. One side of Spence's mouth twitches. He thinks he's won.

That does it. My defiance comes rearing back full force. "And how long am I going to have to wait around for Geriatric Gerald?"

"I'll do you the courtesy of not telling him you said that. You're going to love this man."

"Doubtful," I sass back.

Spence glances down at his phone, nods once, then looks up at me.

"Go on, then, love. Gerald's waiting for you outside."

My face flames. Oh .

Arguing seems futile if the car is already here. Plus, I want to get these heels off and sink into my bed. I might even sleep in tomorrow, considering Louie won't be home and I'll have the entire flat to myself.

I haven't moved an inch when Spence bends low, bringing his lips to my ear. "Don't make me tell you again, Firecracker. Go."

A thrill zings through me at his command. Dammit.

Affecting a cool expression, I turn over my shoulder and say, "I'll be sure to give Gerald a five-star rating on the app." Then, because I want to see him react, I call out, "Good night, sir."

His response? The man closes his eyes as if he's in physical pain. When he opens them again, he shoves his hands into his pockets and shakes his head.

With a smirk, I head toward the door, hips swaying, feeling his attention the whole way.