Page 69 of Electric Touch

Apollo looks over and grins when he hears Nash telling me to get up and dance. “Do you have steel toe boots on, man?” he shouts.

“Hilarious,” I scowl at him. “I’m not that bad,” I tell Nash. “I enjoy dancing. I’m just not super coordinated.”

He’s laughing as he pulls me out of my chair and crowds into me. “You’ll be too close to me to worry about elaborate dance moves. Let’s go.”

He leads me from the table. My best friend’s laughter follows, but I ignore him. Nash keeps tight hold of my hand. I see a few more famous faces as we walk to the dance floor. They’re having their own fun. Nash meant what he said, too. He pulls me in close, his hands around my waist. I’m forced to either have my hands on his chest or around his neck. I go for the chest, so I can feel his hard muscles beneath my hands.

It's not fair that he has great rhythm too. He moves me around like he knows what he’s doing. I am enjoying every second. When he turns me so my back is to him, he presses close against me. His hands tighten around my waist. I hold on to his forearms and we sway a little more than dance. Nash runs his lips up and down my neck and chin, kissing me softly. My pussy pulses with each move. Then his hands move up my waist, over my ribs, to the underside of my boobs. God, I’m going to drag him into the bathroom if he doesn’t stop. That might be his intention too, because he is very hard against my ass.

The torture goes on for another two songs. I’m practically heaving and ready to drag him away.

“One more drink,” Nash says into my ear. “Then we’re going home.”

I don’t hide the disappointment at one more drink. Nash grins and takes my hand. We head back to the table and take our seats. Apollo gives me a questioning look. I can read him like a book. He wants to know if he needs to look out for me tonight. I shake my head and lean closer to Nash, letting him know he’s off the hook. Apollo winks and turns to a girl beside him. Looks like he has plans of his own.

“My place is closer,” I tell Nash as he is reaching over for two shots.

He tilts his head towards me as he grabs the glasses, then sits back. He’s about to say something when Riley walks up to our table. Glaring and unsteady on her feet, her eyes are glazed. She’s drunk. Nash sees it too because his jaw tightens. She was with her new boyfriend earlier. I recognised him from their pictures on Instagram. He doesn’t appear to be around now.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Nash?” she asks, plonking herself in an empty seat beside me. She doesn’t wait for him to speak. Instead, resting one elbow on the table and turning her full focus to me. “He might have mentioned me. I’m a very close friend.”

“Riley,” Nash frowns at her.

“What?” She sits up, knocking a glass but it doesn’t fall, just slides across the table. “Everyone else seems to know her. Why don’t I get an introduction? Your name is Andrea, right?”

I smile thinly. I will not cause a scene, even if she is doing a good enough job of that herself. Even without being able to hear, people are looking over.

“Adrestia,” I correct, letting Nash know I can handle this.

“Hmm,” she looks me up and down, finding me lacking because she sneers. “You’re not his type. He goes for girls who are less… well, less,” she indicates my general midriff area.

“Fucking hell, Riley, stop it,” Nash says.

What he doesn’t realise is I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before. Most of my life, in fact. I’m not ashamed of the way I look. Every man I’ve been with appreciated every inch of me, even if there is more than what Riley considers ‘attractive.’

“Nash isn’t the kind to concern himself with appearances. He has more substance.”

Riley squints one eye at me. I don’t want to get into it. She’s drunk and not in her right mind. She is also unpredictable at this point. I have no intention of drawing unnecessary attention to Nash right now.

“He’s using you,” she says. “All he wants is a warm body to help him get over me.”

“Riley, stop,” Nash snarls and gets up, walking around the back of my chair. I touch his arm to let him know it’s okay, but he doesn’t stop. “Where’s Brent?”

Riley shrugs and moves out of the way so Nash can’t take hold of her. “I don’t need him right now. I’m getting to know Andrea.”

I meet Apollo’s gaze over the top of Riley’s head. He puts a hand on the table, like he is about to get up. I shake my head. Riley sees it and spins to look at him.

“Oh, that’s the guy you’re with. So what is this?” She waves her hand between me and Nash. “Is this like a thing? You gonna have the both of them?”

“Riley, get up.” Nash’s fists clench at his side. Clearly, he doesn’t want to put his hands on her, but she is getting louder. And I don’t appreciate her bringing Apollo into this.

“What is it about you? That has Nash, and that guy over there, or anyone else panting after you? Because as far as I can see-”

Nash takes her arm and lifts her out of her seat. Riley stumbles and knocks into the table. Drinks go flying across the surface and onto the floor. Alcohol splashes across my shoes and bare legs, making me cringe. I push my chair back and rise, stepping away from the puddle. Dylan and Jack finally see what is going on. Apollo is on his feet, too.

“Jesus, what are you doing?” Riley shouts at Nash, trying to pull out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, even though he is trying to be gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her, or let her hurt herself.

“Riley, you’re making a fool of yourself,” Nash says harshly.

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