Page 25 of Blurred Lines

"Welcome to the after-party," he announces, with a theatrical flourish that's entirely Finn.

Emily laughs and spins on her heel, her eyes sparkling. "An after-party? Here? What, are we going to raid your wine cellar and call it a night?"

Finn wags a finger, a playful smirk on his lips. "Ah, but you see, every great after-party needs an impromptu dance floor. And I think this," he gestures grandly to the open space between the designer sofas and the glass wall overlooking the pool, "will do quite nicely."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Finn, the last time you tried to dance, you nearly knocked over your thousand-dollar vase."

"That was one time," Finn protests, feigning offense, "and the vase survived. Besides, I've been practicing."

Emily laughs. "Alright, DJ Finn, if you're so confident, put on some music. Let's see if your moves have improved."

With a nod, Finn strides over to a sleek sound system, his fingers dancing over the touchscreen. Moments later, the space is filled with the upbeat rhythms of a song that's impossible not to move to.

Emily doesn't miss a beat, swaying with a natural rhythm. Her lush body moves with an effortless grace, utterly captivating. I stand behind Finn, a drink in hand, and we both watch.

"She's incredible," Finn murmurs, his voice tinged with genuine awe.

"She is," I agree, unable to look away.

Finn's gaze flickers to mine. He understands far more about me than most. "So," he begins casually, "this is the oddest question I'll ask, but, are you willing to share?"

"I think," I say slowly, words foreign but true, "that yes, I am."

The moment of reckoning lingers between us, the question unasked but reverberating through the air.

"Well then," Finn says with a clap of my shoulder, the decision seemingly made for me, "Looks like we're joining the party."

With a wry smile, he propels me towards Emily, leaving me with no graceful way to retreat. Her hand reaches out, pulling me closer, and a jolt of pure exhilaration shoots through me.

The music shifts, a pulsating beat replacing the earlier melody. Emily is a force of nature, her movements a blend of abandon and control. My body, usually so disciplined, responds instinctively, matching her rhythm.

Finn is a surprisingly skilled dancer, his usual laidback demeanor replaced with a playful energy that mirrors the atmosphere. We circle Emily.

There's laughter, stolen glances, brushes of skin that feel electrifying. The world narrows down to this moment, this shared space where the lines between flirtation and something deeper blur intoxicatingly.

As the tempo intensifies, Emily twirls closer, her eyes locking with mine. The air between us crackles, charged and undeniable. My hand finds her waist, her fingers trace the line of my jaw. There's no hesitation now, only the urgent need to feel.

The music pulsates through me, mirroring the thrum of my own heartbeat. I spin Emily close, the world dissolving into an intoxicating blend of her laughter, the scent of her perfume, and the press of bodies.

This is no longer a calculated game, but an exhilarating surrender to the raw, exhilarating beat of the moment.

I know I can't control myself, but only if she's present enough to understand what could happen.

So, I reach out and take her hand in mine. "How drunk are you?" I ask, my eyes burning into hers.

"Drunk enough to know I want this," she says, looking at both Finn and me. "And not drunk enough to think you two are taking advantage of me."

9

EMILY

The music's beat slows. Silas isn't one to miss his cue. He pulls me in, our bodies pressed against each other. His lips whisper against my shoulder, at once soft and hot, scorching and impossibly tender. He could be a man, a lover, and the summer breeze, all in one breath. I sigh and shiver against his body.

He leaves my shoulder to move his head up, and then, he's kissing me. He bends back my head across his arm and touches my lips with his, softly at first, and then with a dizzying, spinning intensity that pushes me into a warm, welcome darkness. His insistent, commanding mouth parts my trembling lips, sending electric jolts along my nerves, drawing out responses I've never had before. And as a light, citrusy giddiness catches on to me, I kiss him back, my mouth a helpless O, tongue darting out, claiming his, seeking more.

Silas's hold on me is almost too gentle, and gentleness is not what I want, not now, not when my mind is made up. I knot my fists in his shirt, pulling him hard against me. He groans softly, low in his throat, extending his arms to circle me. I'm in his arms, being pushed against a wall, faintly aware that Finn is watching just a few feet away.

I couldn't care less, in fact, the sheer forbiddenness of being watched, of being with an older man who knows what he's doing, and of being in my element have set me on fire. I crave this. I swing a leg upward, snaking it around Silas's hip, and grind against the mounting hardness emerging in his trousers.

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