Chapter 3

Kayla

I’d taken a breather twenty minutes after Sasha whisked me to the center of the dance floor.

In that time I’d all but inhaled another cocktail and a glass of water. I was sweaty and hot, but I was having a blast with Sasha and, because of the effects of the alcohol, itching to continue to let reality fade away.

I leaned back against the bar and stared at all the gyrating bodies.Everyone looked like they were in this trance, a haze of bliss that made me want to be right back there.

I glanced over at Sasha and saw Salvatore lean in close to her ear and say something. She nodded, and he turned and left, and I watched as he made his way toward the back hallway.

Sasha mouthed, Bathroom, and gestured to where Salvatore had just disappeared to.

She leaned in close enough that when she spoke, I’d be able to hear her. “So…” The neon lights of the backlit bar illuminated her pretty face.

“I know that tone, and it can’t be good when it starts with that one word.”

She gave me a lopsided smile, but it looked slightly pained… because she knew whatever she was about to ask me, I probably wouldn’t want to hear.

“Maybe I should just decline politely before you even ask?” Although the truth was, I was pretty sure I knew what she was about to say, and I was already cringing.

“So my cousin,” she said, and I tipped my head to the side so I could see her. She had a sly little grin on her face, and I rolled my eyes.

“Your cousin is gorgeous, and I’m sure he’s got an incredible personality from what I’ve seen already, but you know I’m not really looking for a relationship.” I’d never been looking for any relationship, if I was being honest. Never had any desire to be with anyone in… that way.

I’d always just focused on schooling, on trying to make connections that were real and deep. It always failed—most of the time, anyway. I’d connected with Sasha, and I felt like it was because—although we were vastly different—deep down, we had something that was elementally the same.

We liked to be free, to let go of reality, and just… be alive for a short amount of time.

But at the end of the day, it always seemed like I didn’t really know anyone. Hell, I didn’t even know who I was, not when it felt like I tried to be someone I wasn’t.

She exhaled and pulled back, but there was this mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Salvatore wants you; that’s clear by the way he keeps watching you when he thinks no one else is.”

I snorted, but I doubted she heard. “I’m wearing a whole lot of nothing. I’m not vain, but I think most men here will stare at a woman who’s half-naked.” I started laughing when she grinned.

She shrugged, and I was thankful she didn’t press about Salvatore. I didn’t think the subject was over, but she wasn’t being pushy.

Instead she took my hand, and we laughed as we headed back to the dance floor.

I drank too much.I knew that as soon as I took the last swallow of the tropical cocktail Sasha gave me.

It was no one’s fault but my own, but as I swayed to the music, sweat slowly trailing down my temples, I felt light-headed, a little woozy, and overheated.

But I couldn’t stop, not when the feeling of being lost in the best way consumed me. I let my fingers trail over my hair and picked up the heavy fall off my neck. The air inside was humid and sticky, but even so, the breeze that was kicked up by the moving bodies cooled my nape.

I continued to move my hips back and forth, feeling the music deep in every part of my body. My heart beat to the bass of the song, and I grew even more lost in the sensations. It was a heady feeling, almost erotic. I wondered if this was akin to the euphoria you felt during sex.

I felt someone move behind me and knew it was a male without looking. I could see his much larger shadow cover me, smelled his cologne mixed with sweat surrounding me. His body heat made me sweat even more, but I didn’t stop dancing.

He didn’t touch me, but every once in a while, his limbs would brush against mine. I felt this almost disgust coast over me at the sensation but pushed it away like I did every time. Another thing I assumed made me “not normal”… the lack of enjoying another’s touch.

I’d tried searching for what was “wrong” with me. Found there was a disorder called haphephobia. An anxiety disorder characterized by the fear of being touched.

But I wasn’t afraid of affection, wasn’t afraid of someone getting too close. I just felt this crushing disgust when a man was too close, when he skated his fingers along my body, when his breath brushed my skin. It had every part of me tightening in discomfort. It had always been that way since I was a teenager, but I’d never had the strength to tell someone about it, never wanted to share something that seemed so intimate to another soul.

So what was wrong with me that just the thought of a man touching me had my body shriveling up, yet at the same time, all I could fantasize about was a faceless man coming to me in my dreams and doing things others would deem depraved, sadistic, and masochistic in nature?

God, I am fucked up.

I pushed my thoughts away and focused on the reason I was here. Because it was a moment in time that allowed me to not obsess over what was the matter with me, and it just let me feel.

As much as I’d prefer to be alone right now, I was in the middle of a nightclub, so having men come up and try to dance with me wasn’t exactly a shock. And although I didn’t like when they touched me, put their hands on my shoulders, down my arms, or gripped my waist, as long as they didn’t try anything else, I gritted through the uncomfortable sensations and focused on me.

After a while, his hands slid down my sides and found purchase on my hips. He tried to pull me back against him, but I held my place and dug my feet more firmly into the floor. Thankfully he took the hint and didn’t try bringing me closer—or so I thought. A moment later his warm, alcohol-smelling breath wafted along the side of my neck, the scent of sweat so strong on him that it was almost too much to bear.

“God, you’re hot.” He tried pulling me back again. I was about to disengage the situation altogether, when suddenly his body was off mine so forcefully I stumbled forward.

A wave of dizziness assaulted me, and I turned around, but I didn’t see anyone but couples grinding together. A second later the wave of bodies ate up the minuscule space that had been left by my “dance partner.”

That same tingling on the back of my neck I’d felt all night was back again and fiercer than ever. But no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find the source.

I did a slow circle, and although no one was watching me, I swore they were, hidden among all these bodies, camouflaged in plain sight.

And then I felt someone move close behind me. It wasn’t the sensation of a wayward dancer coming up to me. It was a strong presence that caused me to be hot and cold all in the same breath. It was painful and… something more.

I was about to turn around when large hands cupped my waist. I looked down and saw how big and long the fingers were, how his palms were so broad they nearly engulfed my abdomen.

And then I was struck by the sensation of… everything. No disgust, no discomfort.

I was pulled back and connected with a very hard, very broad chest. My eyes closed on their own. I couldn”t breathe, my head fuzzy, dizzy. My body was alive, as if electricity was moving up and down my arms and legs.

I wanted to figure out why I felt like this for the first time in my life, but everything short-circuited. It was a sensation overload. It had me leaning back against this stranger and feeling his fingers tighten against my hip bones. It had me absorbing how good it sounded when I heard him breathe deeply beside my ear.

He smelled incredible, spicy and dark, with hints of a metallic aroma that reminded me of something, but my mind was too sluggish to put a name to it.

We started moving far too slowly to go with the beat of the music but in a way that was wholly sexual. And I didn’t have it in me to stop. In fact, I found myself leaning back fully, my head resting on his chest, his hands painfully—and so perfectly—gripping me around my hips as he kept me in place.

I could feel how hard he was for me, his erection like an iron rod digging against my back. And for the first time in my life, I felt the rush of desire, the heat of arousal… wetness spilling from between my thighs.

I was vaguely aware of my hair being pushed over one shoulder, and as if my body was working on an instinctive level, I tipped my head to the side. I bared my throat and closed my eyes as we continued to move slowly together. The more seconds that passed, the more intimate and sexual the dancing became.

I started breathing harder, sweat trickling down the valley of my breasts, down the length of my spine. And then his lips were at the side of my throat, moving slowly up and down, lapping at the no-doubt saltiness of my perspiration right over my pulse point. It was pleasure and pain, softness and sharpness, as I felt the scrape of his teeth along the hollow right beneath my ear.

And I want more.

There was a sharp sting at my neck, and I gasped, not from pain but from the burst of pleasure I felt from it. Even over the loud music, I heard his growl, felt the vibrations from it as if he was just as turned on as I was.

The world shifted as I was suddenly turned around, my hands instinctively flattening on the hard planes of his chest while I tipped my head back, and back, back until I could look into his face. God, he’s so big, so tall. His shoulders were broad, his chest so wide it blocked out everything else behind him.

It was as if I was in a secluded area with him, that there weren’t a hundred people all around us. I was sweating even more, and it had nothing to do with the oppressive heat in the club and everything to do with the fierce rush of blood through my veins that heated my body and made the arousal a comfort that settled deep within my core.

I had to be drunker than what I’d thought, because I swore his eyes flashed red as he stared down at me. His expression was arrogant, the planes of his face sharp and almost brutal and hard in appearance. His hair was short and dark, so dark it was like spilled ink. His lips were full, the bottom one slightly bigger than the top, but set in a hard line.

In fact, his entire face was set that way. Hard. I didn’t have to know this man to realize he was powerful. He was dangerous. I didn’t have to understand him to know he always got what he wanted. It was this air of dominance that surrounded him, heavy and thick… suffocating.

He had my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping my head back and to the side slightly. My eyes fluttered on their own as if to close, as if I had zero control over my body. I felt his lips right back at my pulse point, and my heart raced from the feel of his lips on my skin. And then a moan spilled from me when I felt the wet heat of his tongue sliding along my flesh.

This was so unlike me to just allow a man to touch me, to put his hands on me like this. But I felt like I was a slave to what was happening, as if I couldn’t stop myself, even if my life depended on it.

He pulled me back in for long seconds, but I kept my eyes closed, this tingling moving throughout my arms and legs, settling in my fingertips, and making my hands feel light, weightless almost. I swore I could hear his voice telling me to open them, to look at him, but I knew it was all in my head. The music was too heady, my pulse too heavy in my ears.

But I did open them regardless and looked into his red-tinged ones, then lowered my gaze to his mouth. His lips look redder, the color deeper, slightly wet in appearance. And when he dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, I could see that he licked something off, something that stained his pink tongue a ruby shade.

Before I could think of what was actually happening, of why I was allowing any of this, he was leaning closer to me, our breaths mingling together. I could hear this deep rumble coming from him, and I held my breath as I stared into his naturally red eyes, ones I tried telling myself were that shade because of the neon bar lights, or maybe because I”d had far too much to drink.

And when his lips gently brushed along mine, not a kiss but more of an embrace, a caress, I slowly let the breath I’d been holding out.

The stroke of his tongue along the seam of my lips was shocking, and I snapped my eyes wide, blinking a few times as if that would clear my head. There were dual flavors dancing along my taste buds, a rich and coppery one mingling with… watermelon?

I took a step back, and another, my hands shaking, my chest heaving as I started breathing faster and harder all of the sudden.

Now that I was a few feet from him, he seemed monstrous in height, his body so massive that I was nothing but a little doll before him.

We stared at each other for far too long to be considered innocent, and I had this instinct to go back to him, to press myself against his hard chest, to rest my head between his pectoral muscles. It sounded like the most natural thing to do. And I almost took a step toward him, even saw the way his eyes became impossibly darker, his expression hooded with heat as if he knew what I really wanted to do, because he wanted that too.

I should feel ashamed of my lack of control, but the memory of that sensation of being around him, of feeling his lips on my skin, his hands on my body, still coursed through me like a drug.

I felt high.

I felt someone grip my wrist and looked over my shoulder to see Sasha grinning at me, this glossy, red-rimmed look in her eyes—so much different than the way the giant’s looked. She was drunk, shouting something at me and gesturing over her shoulder to where Salvatore stood. I lifted my gaze to where he was but noticed his focus wasn’t on me or Sasha.

He was staring at the man right in front of me.

Salvatore’s brows were pulled low, this strange expression on his face. When he glanced at me, I swore I could hear his scolding tone. No doubt he’d seen how close the man and I were, how I’d let him touch me.

And then I was glancing back at the dark-haired stranger, his attention still trained on me. I knew without a doubt this entire time he’d never taken his focus off me. His eyes seemed dark, darker than the walls and the ceiling, darker than the black clothes he wore or the onyx color of his hair.

Sasha pulled me away, and I watched as his full lips spread out over his straight, white teeth in a grin. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the sight of his canines, which looked a little too long. A little too sharp.

He lifted his hand and ran his thumb over his bottom lip before dragging his tongue over it. His eyes went hooded as if whatever he tasted was an aphrodisiac. On instinct I lifted my hand to my neck, a tender spot right under my fingers, right below my ear, where my pulse point was.

And the farther Sasha pulled me away, the bodies curling around us before sucking up the once-empty space, all I wanted to do was go back to him. And that’s why I turned and made myself leave.

Because whatever I was feeling was not safe. It was dangerous… just like the man I could still feel watching me.

The tensionin the car was thick, uncomfortable. I glanced at Sasha, who sat in the front passenger seat. I didn’t miss how she kept looking at Salvatore, as if she too felt how thick and uncomfortable the air seemed to be since we’d left the club. I also didn’t miss how Salvatore kept squeezing and relaxing his hands on the steering wheel. Something was definitely up with him, and that was why things felt so weird right now.

He almost seemed… jealous, and all I could keep thinking about was him staring daggers at the nightclub mystery man. It was as if he knew him, like there was bad blood between them.

I cleared my throat and shifted on the seat. “I could have taken an Uber. It’s out of your way to take me home, and I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Sasha looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “Don’t be crazy. Like I’m gonna let you go home with a stranger when you’re just as drunk as I am.”

I didn’t point out that we were in Salvatore’s car, and Sasha had been the one to offer they’d take me home without even checking with him first.

“Well, thank you. I do appreciate it.”

I focused out the back passenger window again. I was pretty buzzed but not wasted enough that I didn’t know what was going on or couldn’t keep myself safe. I could have gotten myself home just fine, especially if I’d known Salvatore would be annoyed the entire car ride.

I kept my mouth shut the rest of the ride home, staring out the back passenger side window, the city fading away as the more residential area came into view.

We pulled into the driveway of my house, and I spoke with Sasha for a few moments before thanking Salvatore for the ride. I slipped out of the car and went inside, not bothering to turn the lights on as I made my way to my bedroom. I wanted a shower to wash off the sweat and the sticky feeling that covered my skin from the oppressive heat from dancing.

But the entire time, there was one main thing that wouldn”t leave my thoughts. Him. The man who’d touched me, who’d made me feel things I’d never felt before.

Once in the bedroom, I undressed, letting my outfit fall to the floor, and padded barefoot into the bathroom. I turned the light on, the glow bright at first, causing me to squint from the harsh pounding behind my eyes.

Once my vision adjusted and the pain faded marginally, I turned toward the mirror above the sink and stared at my reflection. I looked like a stranger, or maybe it was the fact that I’d felt things tonight that still had a tight hold on me.

My mascara was slightly smeared under my eyes, my hair was in disarray around my head and along my shoulders, and my face was still flushed.

I grabbed the locks, pulled them over one shoulder, and started to finger comb the strands, but I narrowed my eyes when something on the side of my neck caught my attention.

I leaned forward and squinted, my vision blurry from the alcohol and the headache blooming into a migraine. But I could see the mark clear enough, and as I lifted my fingers and touched right below my ear, I felt this strange heat move through me.

I ran the tip of a digit over the small scrape on my flesh. A bruise surrounded the small wound, the light-blue and red coloring standing out brilliantly against my pale flesh.

A flair of anger and… something darker flashed through me.

The asshole had bitten me hard enough he broke my skin, and not only that, he gave me a hickey.

And as I pulled back and kept staring at my reflection, taking in how pink my cheeks were, how blown my pupils were, a sense of hollowness and desperation… of just wanting to cry filled me.

Because I felt like I was at a loss of control. It was like I didn’t know who this woman was, or why she was the way she was. It was exhausting thinking something was wrong with you and questioning why you couldn’t feel pleasure from another’s touch.

But then to finally feel sensations and emotions that you’d otherwise thought were elusive and everything opened up. The sky poured down rain, the oceans overflowed, and it all settled into this perfect, harmonious sensation that kept growing so strong that you knew, just knew there would never be a way to go back.

I closed my eyes and braced my hands on the sink. Was I losing my mind? Did I need to speak to a professional? Why am I like this?

But all those thoughts were pushed aside when I opened my eyes again and stared at the side of my throat.

The very sight—idea—that he’d sucked on my neck, broken my skin, shouldn”t have made me feel the way I did.

Turned on.