Chapter Twenty-One

Hana's birthday is out of this world. I didn't think I'd be having such a blast, but here I am, dancing and singing my heart out. Everything is so loud and dark that no one can clearly see or hear me. It's liberating.

It wasn't so much fun at first. Not when I realized that all the friends Hana invited are either married, engaged, or having a kid with the love of their life.

But all that stopped being a problem maybe five tequilas ago. Or is it seven? Shoot, I lost count. It is an odd number, at least I'm sure of that.

The club Hana picked is fantastic, with music from when we were younger but remixed into even more danceable tunes. We have a whole VIP booth to ourselves, and the waitstaff has been instructed to keep the champagne coming. And it seems they are very good at following instructions because we've drunk at least one bottle each by now.

We're both vibing to a catchy version of Lady Gaga's "Bloody Mary", facing each other with our sick moves. The others have all migrated back to the VIP lounge, and it's just the two of us left now. My thighs burn every time I lower, I can feel sweat running down my back, and my feet have been killing me for the past hour. But all of this is a sacrifice I'm happy to make.

Although we haven't done this together in a while, Hana and I are still great at it. My hands are above my head, like the song demands, and my hips are swaying along with the beat, my whole body undulating with it. I'm mirroring Hana, or she's mirroring me—I can't remember.

Everything is delayed and altered by the booze, which is why I won't have another glass tonight. I've gone far enough. Needless to say, Hana's objective to get hammered is beyond accomplished. The only thing that could make this moment even more perfect is Jake.

So, when a pair of masculine hands snake their way around me, and a body comes against my back, moving in sync with mine, it takes a couple of seconds for me to register. Jake! He's here!

A smile stretches my lips as I lean harder into his body so that my ass is right on his crotch, wrapping my hands around his wrist. Again, it takes way too long for me to realize that the man behind me is too short and not muscular enough to be Jake. Confused, I look down and see that the hands holding me so intimately aren't covered in tattoos, and the golden wristwatch is way too tacky for Jake.

I pry the arms away from me and turn around, wishing I could set more distance between us. But the club is packed, and there's nowhere else to go but by Hana's side, a mere foot away from the stranger. He says something that gets lost in the loud music, his hands trying to bring me back toward him.

"I'm not interested," I shout, writhing out of his hold.

Hana's eyes are closed, so she doesn't see what's going on and can't come to my aid. The man is stronger than me, so he manages to pull me against him. The intense smell of his cologne assaults my nostrils, and I wonder how I could have believed, even for a second, that he was Jake.

"Come on, Bella," he shouts in my ear. "I know you want this."

"No, I really don't!"

I'm still trying to pry myself away from him when the wet touch of his tongue begins exploring my ear. "I'll fuck you so good, Bella," he says before licking me again. The sensation is invasive and awkward, nowhere near as sensual as the man expects.

All I want is to get out of this, so I do the only thing my brain has the capacity to come up with. "I said no!" I shout just as I send a blind knee kick between his legs.

That makes him let go of me instantly with a grunt, his hands reaching for his crotch rather than me. I swiftly grab Hana, who whips her eyes open, before tugging her behind me and making my way to the VIP section. The man posted there recognizes us and moves to the side so we can climb the steps. We soon arrive at our booth, where the music isn't as intense, and we have a view over the pit.

"Are you okay?" Hana asks as we sit down.

"Yeah, just a creep. We're good now."

"It's the dress," Cindy, a woman we went to Harvard with, says in a matter-of-fact tone. "A redhead with a red dress is like a giant billboard for them."

I look down with a frown. Hana picked it for me earlier when we got ready at my place, and who am I to say no to the birthday girl? The Dolce and Gabbana mini dress isn't the boldest I've seen out there tonight, but it's a lot, with a lingerie-like bustier and a form-fitting skirt. With this heat, wearing so little fabric was a good call, though.

"I'm thirsty," I say, ready to go to the bar.

But one of Hana's friends, whom I didn't know before tonight, hands me a tiny glass. I down it in one go. The unexpected taste of tequila makes me grimace. "I meant water!"

On the table, all we have are partially emptied champagne flutes and more shot glasses. Since I really need fluids that don't contain alcohol, I stand on clumsy legs and slalom my way to the bar.

I finish the water the person behind the counter gives me and then ask for a refill.

"Are you alright, babe?" Hana asks, appearing by my side.

"Yes, my head's just spinning really hard."

"Do you want to head home? I know you had a long week."

She's not wrong. I've been working my ass off since Mr. Sinclair gave us the assignment. I have the feeling that Ralf, that asshole, will cut himself and his team some slack, knowing I'll take the heat if the report isn't completed on time. So, because I refuse to let him win, I'm working even harder than anticipated. I'm not happy with this, but it's only for two weeks—nothing I can't handle.

The most annoying part is that I'm not getting my fill of Jake. Yesterday, I only allowed myself three hours at his place before returning home. And while it's a good start, it's not enough. I regretted not waking up in his embrace this morning, feeling robbed.

"I don't want to go home," I tell Hana.

"You're sure?"

I nod. "I wanna go see Jake."

The worry on her face switches to a massive smile, her eyes luminous. "Really?"

"Yeah. I miss him."

"You do?"

"All the time."

Her smile grows even more prominent. "Let's get you to him, then."

"You can't leave your party."

"I could use some fresh air. I'll come back after."

"Hana, I can't leave your party."

"Are you kidding? Who am I to get in the way of young love?"

"It's not love," I say with a frown, drinking more of my water. "I just really like him."

"Well, that sounds like—"

"His dick. I really, really like his dick." And the rest of him too, but Hana doesn't need to know that. She's already getting all the wrong ideas. "Having drunk sex is on the list, right?"

"Yeah, I think it is."

"I need to go see him."

"You do. Let's go."

I'm not entirely sure how she manages that, but we're in a cab heading to Brooklyn before I know it. The cool air feels amazing, so we have the windows down the entire ride. Because it's the middle of the night, there isn't any traffic, so we're there in record time.

"Is that his tattoo parlor?" Hana asks, pointing at a storefront a little further ahead.

"Uh, I think the ground floor is the art gallery. Upstairs is the parlor, and then the rest are his apartment units."

I do one final check, ensuring I have my phone, home keys, ID, and credit card still in my tiny clutch. Good, I didn't lose anything. Then I turn to my best friend, who looks entertained by all this. "Hana, I can't leave you on your birthday," I whine, overwhelmed by remorse.

"It's past midnight, so it's not my birthday anymore. Now get out, go see him, and check another item off your list."

"You promise you don't mind?"

"I promise, babe. Shoo!"

So very grateful for her understanding, I twist to hug her hard. She pats my back gently and then urges me again to go. As I make my way to the door, I adjust my dress, lowering it down my thighs. There's a row of buttons to the right of the door, and I look for his name. It's nearly impossible, given that the letters are moving around. How uncooperative of them.

I still haven't found it when the door opens on its own, and someone comes out. Upon seeing me, the guy holds the door open, and I use the opportunity to slip inside. Before it closes again, I give Hana—who's watching over me from the cab—a wave.

Thankfully, I'm familiar enough with the industrial elevator to work it, even in my state. My feet hurt too much to walk up five flights of stairs. Once I'm at his door, I push the doorbell, hearing it chime from out here. His dog barks twice, and I wait. When he doesn't come to open it, I ring again, which prompts more barking.

Shit, I don't even know what time it is. Is he not here? Is he at his bar? Or is he with another woman? Before the hurtful thought can do any damage, I hear the door unlocking.

When it swings open, I'm welcomed by a powerful torso covered in tattoos. I diligently traced those with my tongue yesterday. All Jake is wearing are gray sweatpants, and his hair is a joyful mess like it gets when we fuck.

"Gen?" he asks, still half asleep. His eyes rake up and down my body, which seems to energize him a little.

"Did I wake you up?"

The dog chooses this moment to come and greet me, so I graze her big head. "Hey, Mullsi—Mugru—" I give up with a sigh, "hey, doggo."

"Mulli, bed," Jake orders her. She instantly obeys, and I somehow find his authority really hot. "Gen, it's two and a half in the morning. What are you—"

His question is cut short when I drunkenly clasp his nape and pull him down to press my lips on his. In my eagerness, I compromise our balance, but he secures it by grabbing the door frame while his free arm slides around me. I can feel that the kiss I give him is clumsy, with too much tongue and teeth. And since everything I experience is delayed, I'm not as good at following his movements. But it doesn't matter, because it's still the best feeling in the world.

"I missed you," I moan into his mouth, pushing so we enter his apartment.

He closes the door behind us, holding me close. "You saw me yesterday."

"It wasn't enough."

When I move to kiss him again, he prevents it and looks down at me with indulgence. "How much did you drink tonight?"

"I lost count."

Again, he refuses to let me kiss him. "Did you have water?"

"Two glasses."

"That's not enough. Come, sweetheart."

I'm confused and a little lost when he holds me by the hand to lead me to the open kitchen. Why isn't he ravishing me? I thought the dress would work its magic like it did on men at the club, and he'd be dying to enter me.

"Jake, I'm not here for water," I protest while he fills a tall glass. "I'm here to fuck."

"Drink," he orders, handing it to me.

With a pout, I comply and sip on the cold water. The glass is too big, so I only manage half of it. "There. Now, can we fuck?"

He chuckles, tugs me closer, and lays a kiss on my temple. "I'm not fucking you in this state, red."

"Why?"

"You're completely hammered."

"No, I'm just a bit hammered," I protest.

He laughs again. "Say you what, if you still want to fuck in the morning, I'll oblige."

"Of course I will. I want to fuck you all the time, it's ridiculous."

"Well, ditto, love."

"Then fuck me now," I demand, sending a hand to his crotch. Is it me, or is he wearing nothing under his sweatpants? Also, he's somewhat hard, isn't he?

"Tomorrow," he insists, pulling my hand out of harm's way.

"Jake," I whimper, pouting like a child to look endearing.

"That won't work on me, Genevieve. Come, I'll help you get ready for the night."

He retakes my hand, and this time, he leads me to the bathroom. Like the rest of his loft, it's in the open, with a large bathtub in the middle and a shower in the continuity of the enclosed toilets.

While he searches for something in the cabinets, I seek the little zipper thing high on my back. Once I grab hold of it, I slide it down and slip the black straps of my red dress to the side, tugging it all down. Once I'm left with nothing but my red lace thong and high heels, I wait for him to turn around again, convinced that'll win him over.

I notice the surprise on his face when he spins toward me, and he can't quite hold back from taking me in for a moment. When his green eyes darken, I'm convinced I've won. He doesn't do anything about it though, and his jaw tenses with restraint.

"All I have are these makeup-removing wipes," he says, extending one to me.

"Are you really not going to fuck me?"

"Not right now, sweetheart."

He sounds determined, and the fact that I left Hana's birthday party for nothing is slowly sinking into me. Why does he have to be so reasonable?

"Why do you even have those?" I mumble as I grab a wipe with a scowl.

"I was a manwhore, remember? Nearly replaced my front door with a revolving one to make it easier," he jokes as I pass the wipe over my right eye, then the left one. When it's smudged with makeup, he hands me another one.

"And now you're a whore only for me," I caustically remind him, in case he ever forgets.

He grins like a proud idiot at that, unaffected by the meaning behind my drunken words. "I am, yeah."

"One more wipe," I demand. When he hands it to me, I thoroughly clean my ear, making sure there is nothing left of that creep's saliva.

"What happened to that specific ear?" Jake asks with humor.

"Some guy licked it."

The amusement on his face falls into a dark expression. "What?"

"I kicked him in the balls for it. But maybe I was wrong. I'm sure he would have fucked me. Without having to ask as nicely as I did for you."

Jake clearly doesn't like my sound logic, given how he harshly pulls me against him, my bare breasts squished onto his broad torso. "You think I'm not dying to fuck you right now?" he mutters. I blink several times, surprised by the intensity of his tone. "The only reason why I'm not ripping that tiny scrap of lace and burying my cock inside you is because we're not that yet, Genevieve."

What does he mean? What else could we be? I'm trying to make sense of his words when he releases me and spins me around. "Now, go shower while I find you a spare toothbrush." He punctuates his words with a dry slap on my ass, which makes me squeal in surprise.

I feel like a scorned child, which is something I'm used to with my parents, but not him.

When I step out of the shower, I have to admit it felt great. The stickiness of the club is gone, washed down the drain, and I feel like a new person. A fresh towel is waiting for me, as well as a neatly folded T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. Once I'm dry and dressed for the night, I find a toothbrush ready by the sink with toothpaste already on it.

I'm brushing when Jake returns with another glass full of water and a small white pill. "Take this when you're done," he instructs, setting the tablet on the counter. "And if you can finish this glass before bed, I'll be very proud."

Maybe it's because I've made my peace with the fact that we aren't having sex, but I can now appreciate how sweet he's being with me.

On impulse, I pull the toothbrush out of my mouth and bring Jake down, giving him a quick kiss. "Shoot, sorry," I apologize, wiping away the minty foam I left on him.

Before I can feel like an idiot for it, he grins and gives me another peck, showing me how little he cares about the mess.

"Do you think you'll be sick?" he asks after passing a towel over his mouth.

"As a Kensington, I'm above that."

He laughs, the muscles of his abdomen flexing with it. "Right, sorry, milady. I'm still gonna fetch you a bucket."

Chuckles are still rolling out of him when he disappears from my sight. By the time he's back, I took the pill, emptied the glass—earning myself some much-deserved praise—and I can't wait to be asleep.

Jake helps me slip under the covers and quickly joins me there. We reach out for one another, and I end up with my front plastered on his side, my head resting on his broad shoulder while his hand gently grazes my wet hair.

Even if we're not having sex as I intended, this is very nice.

"I'm sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night," I whisper.

"It's alright. I'd rather have you here than off with that ear-licking twat."

"You know I wouldn't have asked him to fuck me, right?"

He gives my forehead a kiss. "I know, we signed an exclusivity addendum."

I look up with a frown, not sure if he's being playful or not. "It's not about the addendum." Now, it's his turn to seek my eyes with a confused expression. "I never want anyone else to fuck me. Only you, Jake."

"Then it's a good thing I only want to fuck you, Gen."

My chest fills with pride and affection, and I wriggle closer to him. This man wants me, and only me. I don't care what the people at work might think. I'm worthy of such a man's interest, and that's all that matters.

"A woman I work with saw you the other day," I unexpectedly confess as if it needs to come out of me. "She saw us kiss."

"Shit."

"I caught my coworkers gossiping about it. They think you have to be ugly to be with me. Or a gigolo and I pay for your company."

"That doesn't sound right, sweetheart. They shouldn't be saying those things."

"Yeah, I know. You're the hottest guy I've ever seen."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant—"

"Did you know," I cut him off, "that you're exactly like a wombat?"

"A wombat?"

"Yeah, you're like, so cuddly. And you can be adorable at times. And you come from Australia too."

"Those three very valid points make me exactly like a wombat, yes."

I can hear a smile in his voice, and I wonder if he's making fun of me. But I'm already half asleep, lulled by his warmth and deep breaths. "Jake?"

"Hmm?"

"I really like you."

His arm around me tightens, holding me closer. "I really like you too, red."

Shortly after that, I sense myself drifting into slumber, a contented smile bending my lips. This, as it turns out, might be even nicer than sex.