Page 94 of Hiding from Hope

When I look over my shoulder to see if Addy is following, she is skipping up to me and looping an arm around mine.

“Is the caveman going to be okay while you dance?” I ask. She giggles in return.

“I promised him lots of private shows later in exchange. He reluctantly agreed.” I flick my eyes to where Noah stands and can see his eyes glued to the back of Addy, his gaze never faltering.

“You snagged a good one there, Ads,” I tell her, and when she looks up at me, she smiles gently.

“So did you, Case. Don’t quit him yet.” She winks.

She’s nuts, because quitting him would mean cutting my heart from my chest. I just don’t know how to tell her that I think he’s the one that quit me.

You know why I like gin? Because it makes my head feel like it floats on clouds. Wine makes me feel heavy and tired. Vodka makes me want to run a mile after two drinks and then violently throw up every drink after. But gin makes me laugh. It makes me feel like my skin is buzzing and my heart is wrapped up in joy. It was exactly what I had needed after today, and with everything that happened with Jessie, I want to let go of the shame and the guilt. I just want to forget how much my chest aches and to take this time for myself.

I dance with Rosie, Stella, and Addison in the middle of the dance floor. The guys joined us at a distance, at one of the high bar tables that had dance floor viewing, and we stayed there for a good hour. We all had our fair share of gropers to shoo. Stella has artfully managed the death stare of the century, and most have steered clear of her. Rosie embraces most, but seems overall uninterested. Addison just gestures to where Noah stands at the edge of the dance floor, and after a number of seconds, the perpetrator disappears while she remains smiling and dancing. I’ve been lucky so far. Most are just friendly and looking to dance, which is fine. Stella did scare the living shit out of one when she said she’d flay his flesh if he touched me without permission again. That was fun to watch. But the more the night went on, the more I wanted to be rescued by someone much taller, bigger, scarier.

From the corner of my eye, I feel another confident idiot slink on through the pack and shimmy his way up to me. His chest to my back. I take a small step away from him and he follows. The guy’s hand lands on my hip, and as I go to spin around and scold him, he’s pulled back by the neck of his shirt.

Both surprise and desire rip through me at the same time. Because I really hadn’t expected Jessie to show up, looking downright edible, by the way, and I certainly hadn’t expected him to care about some random guy. I honestly hadn’t expected his attention on me ever again.

Jessie has Mr. Confidence’s shirt fisted in his hand, the guy almost hovering off the ground as Jessie brings his raging snarl into his face. “Mine,” he growls, coating my skin in awareness, my whole body lighting up at the sight and sound of him. I guess he is still working off that rage.

He drops Mr. Confidence on shaky feet, who scurries away like a mouse running from a lion. When his attention lands on me, the look I see sends a shiver over my whole body. I become a stupid panting mess, feeling my desire pool between my legs. I want him to take me here and now, public indecency be damned. I have so many things to say, so many apologies to make, so many questions about what he is doing here, because seriously, what is he doing here? Are we actually okay? What does this mean?

But those blue-green eyes with flecks of gold are pure ice. Where he’d usually soften or curl the corners of his lips, he only glares. The only difference between me and Mr. Confidence is that the ice is of the hottest fire and they burn with desire, aimed solely at me.

His eyes trail down my body, and I feel it everywhere. He takes a few assured steps forward until he is standing right in front of me. The anticipation alone almost makes me sick, but then, with his magic barista hands, he grips my jaw, pulls me forward, and plants a kiss to my lips. Quick, demanding, and aggressive, with a possessive swipe of his tongue, he holds me in place, and I let him. Open for him and yielding all control to him, begging him to take it. Take me.

A little moan leaves my throat, and when he pulls back, his grip still firm, lips hovering so close to mine, his deep gravel voice hums through my body. “I don’t like people touching my things.” Feminism gone.

Shivers race over my back, and I shudder. Hit with desire and a little touch of fear from his words. Both a declaration and a threat. He was still very mad about the manuscript, but that was a reminder that I am still his. While the sour pit of shame still stirs with guilt over that manuscript I stole and the trust I broke, a little bit of the tension I’ve held all night dissipates at the recognition that he still burns for me and still sees me as his. I am praying he meant it.

The moment doesn’t linger, though. In a few blinks, the domineering show is over and, without another look, he turns. Walking toward Noah and the guys, I watch him go. Like a lovesick puppy under a spell, I stand there, gazing after him, before turning to Rosie, Addy, and Stella.

I haven’t managed to catch my breath, but the whole interaction has me feeling hollow. Every part of me aches for him, and the sudden need to cry stings the back of my eyes.

When I’m quiet for a moment, it’s Stella who breaks the silence. “You good?” She raises a brow and I have to shake my head.

“I mean, yeah… but… he just… What does that mean? Why did he…” I trail off looking over at him again, only to find him and Noah in conversation, every now and then both looking this way before sipping their drinks, the rest of the guys floating around and engaging in conversation around them.

“He just needs to simmer down, give him a beat to catch his breath. He can’t cool his jets like you can,” Addison confirms. I just nod, but still look over at him, not feeling all that secure about where I stand, not sure what any of this means. But he did at least give me part of my birthday wish. He kissed the ever loving shit out of me.

“I think I need to go to the bathroom,” I tell the girls as I try to blink back tears.

“Oh, we’ll come with.” Rosie shrugs.

“No, I just need to go by myself for a second.” Because the gin was winning, and I might cry. They seem to get it and back off as I turn to head for the bathroom.

When the door swings closed behind me, I’m relieved to find it empty, heading straight for the sink to run my hands under cold water.

I splash the cold water on the back of my neck, cupping some to sip and then making my fingers damp to cool down my chest. With my head back and my hand stuck down the front of my dress, the bathroom door opens and I jump back, trying to pull my hand from my dress so fast I smack myself in the jaw.

“Fuck!” I shout, and the tears I had been trying to bury start to escape.

“Sorry, sorry, just ignore me. I’m just cooling down.” I wave at whoever entered as I try to find some paper towels. When I get no response, I turn, “Sorry, I—Jessie?! What are you doing? This is the women’s—”

His lips crash onto mine, cutting me off. I hadn’t even felt him approaching. I turned, and he was there. Now, he is backing me against the bathroom sink, his jacket peeled off, thrown to the counter, and he lifts me on top of it.

“What are you doing?” I pant between his tongue dancing with mine.

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