“Excuse me a minute,” she clips out, waving her hand in front of my face and moving away before I can even reply.
Well then.
I watch her move toward him in her slinky black dress and I think for one long second about tipping my drink onto her so she has to go clean it off in the bathroom. But this isn’t Mean Girls and I’m not a capricious teenager… sadly.
“Hey, Charley! Come meet my friends.” Hudson beckons me over with a manicured hand. His gaudy, diamond-encrusted watch shines in the strobe lights like a disco ball, momentarily blinding me. Who is he trying to emulate? Jay-Z?
For the next five minutes, I stand stoically as Hudson and his friends toss back liquor and discuss the hottest “ass they’ve pounded lately”. I try my damnedest to keep my gaze from falling on Jude. Olivia cornered him right after she left our conversation and I’m pretty sure if she stepped any closer she’d be inhaling his sexy, flawless, f**king stubble. Damnit.
Look away.
Naomi and Bennett are off canoodling; otherwise I would have used her as a scapegoat the second Hudson’s friends started comparing dick sizes. Oh, I’m sorry, maybe it was yacht sizes. I don’t want to force myself onto her and Bennett as the third wheel. She’s been so supportive lately; she deserves some alone time with her new guy.
“So where have you been keeping this one, Hudson?” One of his friends asks with a slurred smile. I decide on the spot that his plucked eyebrows and fake tan have to be part of an early Halloween costume.
“Yeah. She’s too hot for you.” Another friend chimes in with a signature grunt. Hudson folds his arms over one another and the edges of his mouth curl up at his friends’ approval of me.
Have they completely forgotten I’m standing right here? Have we suddenly traveled back to the 1950s?
“Wasn’t she on Maxim’s hot list this year? Damn.”
“Shut up,” Hudson huffs shallowly, clearly not actually wanting them to stop. Oh stop. No I didn’t mean stop. Keep going.
“She wouldn’t go for either of you,” he declares proudly, with his chin raised as though he has the winning hand.
How do any of these guys pick up women? Will girls really look past their complete ineptitude because they have greasy suits and flashy watches? No thanks. My vibrator has more charm than the three of them put together.
I roll my eyes and look around for an escape.
I could go to the bathroom and just not come back to VIP after. If I have to listen to these guys, or watch Jude and Olivia for another second, I’ll throw up on the spot. But I must be glutton for punishment because I can’t help but look over at him, just one last time. Except he’s not focused on Olivia. She’s rambling on, her hands gesturing wildly in the air, and all the while, Jude’s eyes are fixed on me. The moment I find him staring, his smirk widens and one seductive dimple appears. He tilts his head and looks over at the VIP stairs.
I scowl in confusion. Does he want to leave?
My eyebrows knit together. “What?” I mouth, with a ghost of a smile across my lips. We clearly need Morse code.
He tips his head again, deeper this time, and I can’t help but laugh. How is Olivia not picking up on this? Oh, right. She’s completely self absorbed in her own ramblings. I think he wants to go talk in private, and the thought sends fresh butterflies through my belly.
“I’ll see you later, Hudson. I’m going to go find the bathroom,” I offer politely, even though a part of me just wants to walk off without another word.
“There’s a VIP restroom over there,” he says, pointing his finger behind the bar.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I think I see a friend on the dance floor that I want to say hi to.”
He nods, believing my lie and already losing himself in the sight of another girl. “If it’s a hot chick, bring her up.”
I shake my head and mumble under my breath, “I wouldn’t want to ruin the nice circle jerk you guys have going on”. Was Hudson like that when we dated in high school? For some reason I can’t remember.
I don’t know if Jude will follow me, but I want to leave VIP regardless. I didn’t get to explore the club earlier, and I want to find the ladies’ room and reapply my lipstick.
As I weave through the club, I try to put the last few minutes behind me. This night can still be salvageable if I completely avoid VIP at all costs. Hell, even if I sit in a corner and fantasize about Jude’s lips on my hand it’d be a great way to spend the rest of the night.
The restroom is packed by the time I reach it, so I stand behind a long line of girls trying to fix their hair and makeup using fogged mirrors and confined space. After a hellish wait, I finally push through the ladies’ room exit and am greeted by one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen: Jude leaning against the wall in the dim hallway with his arms and ankles crossed. He looks so damn relaxed and confident I want to attack him on the spot— push myself against him and feel the hard planes of his body against my lace dress. He’s ditched his jacket and his coiled arm muscles press against the sleeves of his rolled up shirt.
“I have to hand it to you, Charley. You put up with much more from that guy than I would have expected,” he praises. I’m surprised there’s no hint of jealously or anger, but I suppose he realizes Hudson isn’t competition.
I shrug, “I didn’t want to brush him off. He’s an old friend and he did get us into VIP after all.”
His jaw tightens faintly. “He’s an a**hole. He took you for granted. If you were talking to me back there, Charley, I wouldn’t have been able concentrate on anything else.”
I flinch in embarrassment, “Was he that obvious?”
Jude pushes off the wall and takes a step closer to me. A dangerous, suggestive step. “Only because I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Olivia was pretty good at grabbing your attention.” I test the water with a sly grin.
He gives me a wicked smile and takes another step toward me. His scent wraps around me and his dominant demeanor sends a shiver down my back, “Was that her name?”
“Jude…” I chide.
“I don’t want her…” He lets the last word drag, as if willing me to fill in the second half of his thought. He wants me.
I blush and glance down at my pumps.
How did we get here?
He lifts my chin, forcing me to look up into his blue eyes, “That dress should be illegal. I almost had a heart attack when you took your coat off earlier.”
My mouth goes dry as his words sink in. Every modicum of coyness apparently evaporated the moment we stepped into the club. The thumping of my heart in my ears overshadows the music pulsing around us. I clinch my fists tightly, feeling a delicious heat spread through my limbs.
“How much have you had to drink?” I need to know if it’s sober Jude or drunk Jude that wants me. Not because I’ll let that stop me. Hell no, I just desperately hope he isn’t drunk. I don’t want him to forget this moment in the morning.
“That one mixed drink. You?” he demands, licking his lips.
“I only took a sip,” I peep, feeling heat flush my cheeks. Where do we go from here?
“Then it looks like there’s no reason you shouldn’t dance with me.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer; he reaches for my hand and tugs me toward the dark dance floor. I have to walk fast to keep up with his long gait, but when we arrive, we bypass the perimeter and delve deeper into bustling, sweaty bodies.
Of course Jude would lead me into the very center of the packed dance floor. He set my life on fire the moment I saw him at that photo shoot. He pushes my limits, and every time I’m around him, I feel like I’m on the knife-edge of desire.
We push through one final ring of dancers and I glance up toward the house lights. There are dozens of them, whirling in circles with the beat of the music. I lose myself in their neon dance as Jude twists himself behind me. His hand drags along my stomach, leaving a trail of lust in its wake as he pulls my body close to him. His arms are so strong and controlling, pinning my body to him. I feel the hard planes of his chest against my back. As the song’s beat hits the crescendo, we grind our bodies together, trying to unite every single cell.
“I can feel every inch of you beneath that dress,” he murmurs as his warm breath cascades down my neck and lands on the bare skin between my br**sts. I follow its path and watch my br**sts heave and strain against the tight fabric.
“I wore it for you,” I murmur, pushing my hair behind my shoulder and offering him my neck in a moment of boldness. I’m rewarded when he bends down and trails his lips along my delicate skin. This isn’t us; this is what would happen if everything was easy and right in the world. This can’t be real. His hand tightens around my waist as he grinds his h*ps against me, hard. I don’t know when it happened, when we began to acknowledge the inferno building between us, but a moan escapes me as I meet his body push for push in a dangerous, seductive dance.
“You moaned just like that at the photo shoot. I was running my hands down your body and I just barely touched your br**sts. You moaned so softly I doubt anyone else heard. It was so hard not to look at you, Charley. I need you…” He trails feather light kisses up to my ear.
His words send my body into overdrive. Raw passion is laced between each of his syllables, making my panties drip with wetness. I need him. Here. On the dance floor. Now I know he needs me too.
Before logic sets in, I reach my hands up and link my fingers behind his neck, pulling him down to me. My br**sts push together. The lace from my tight dress grazes my tight n**ples, eliciting another soft moan.
“God, you’re so sexy,” he whispers into my ear as his free hand trails down, past my dress, and grips my bare thigh. I love that he takes what he wants. His warm touch shocks my core and I jerk back against him. His touch is hot, demanding, and begging me to open up for him. I don’t care that we’re in public; no one’s paying attention to us. The lighting on the dance floor makes it impossible to even see past a few inches beyond yourself. We’re alone in a crowd.
But once his hand grips me, he leaves it there and I know he wants encouragement. He needs me to say it’s okay.
I lean my head back against his chest and push my ass against the thick erection straining through his jeans.
“Touch me, Jude,” I whisper, hoping he’ll push his hand up my thigh. I want him to feel how wet I am, how much he turns me on.
But instead, his hand drags up over my dress, touching the thin valley between my br**sts. A sliver of nak*d skin is exposed by my deep v-neck. His finger skims the scalloped edge of my dress before he slides past the lacey material, dangerously close to my nipple.
I’m playing with fire and I want to be burned.
A ragged moan breaks through him. “No bra, Charley?”
I bite my lip and look up into his eyes with feigned innocence. “It wouldn’t have worked with the dress.”
His finger trails over my nipple and I bite down harder, needing a release.
“When you were getting dressed earlier did you think about me touching you like this?” I close my eyes as his hand slides under the lace material and cups my bare breast. Holy fuck. My back arches instinctively, filling his hand with my aching chest. He growls into my ear as he kneads my overly sensitive flesh slowly and seductively. Desire ricochets through me as the world begins to fade. There’s only touch, Jude’s touch, arousing my every cell.