Page 17 of What If We Do

The darkened rooms create the right ambiance for a Halloween themed party, the black lights an extra fun touch. The effect on my dress makes me appear almost ghost-like as I float through the room to the nearest bar. The bartender is working on several drinks, setting them up in rows for the attendees tonight, each row with a different label.

Lucifer’s demon drink.

Witch’s Wish

Pumpkin Pie Shooters

Vampire’s Cloak

Red Rum

Zombie Brain Hemorrhage

“Which would you like?” Oliver asks.

I narrow my eyes and twist my lips. “Umm, I think I’ll start with a Vampire’s Cloak please.”

He grabs two of the Vampire’s Cloak drinks, tipping the bartender with a fifty-dollar bill, and hands one to me.

“To a night of unfiltered fun,” I toast, anxious to let this alcohol free me from my inhibitions.

“Cheers to that.”

We clink our glasses together and I take a big sip, the sour taste of the tequila hitting my tongue.

“Time to dance!” I raise my glass and walk through the throngs of people already dancing, several of them recognizing me as I join in on the fun. We dance for what feels like hours, bodies grinding, hands roaming, and eventually Oliver is pulled away for a moment by a few fans who recognize him. I watch them chat and take a few pictures as I continue to dance, but when I spin back around I catch him watching me.

Like…watching me, watching me.

I move my body to the pulsing beat blaring through the speaker, my hips swaying as I give in to the rhythms and music. Holy Lord, the way his eyes are fixated on my body, the way his tongue glides effortlessly against his bottom lip, the feeling heats me from the inside out. In all the time I spent with Mark, he never once looked at me the way Oliver Magallan is looking at me now. Like I’m the prey he’s hunting, like he wants me for his next meal. Damn, how does he make me feel desirable with just a glance?

I think if he asked me to, I would strip off all my clothes for him right in this very spot.

If he pressed me up against the wall and jammed his tongue down my throat I wouldn’t stop him. Maybe I’m just horny, but damn, one look from Oliver Magallan and I want to be the one he spends his night pleasuring. I want to know what kind of lover he is. I want to experience everything he has to offer.

That is…if he’s offering.

As his eyes roam up my body, they finally lock with mine and he doesn’t look away. Like a magnetic pull, he steps closer to me without breaking my gaze, an unfamiliar flutter in my chest. His expression is ravenous as he approaches me. Seeing that he’s no longer holding his drink, I shoot back the rest of my third glass and pass it, empty, to a waiter nearby and then I boldly grab Oliver’s hand.

I place his strong hand on my waist and then turn so my back is against his chest. His hips respond when I start to move and I’m grateful he doesn’t back away when my ass rubs against the bulge in his pants.

Holy hell.

What is it about parties and darkness and pulsing music that makes everything more sensual?

He grabs my other hip and holds me in place in front of him as we continue to grind together. I raise my arms as I dance and like a damn invitation, he slides his hands up the sides of my body until they’re just underneath my breasts.

Jesus, yes.

I reach back and slide my hands through his hair, my body melding against his as we move together.

“Scarlett,” he sighs in my ear.

Fuck, he has no idea how badly I wish he would cup my breasts in his hands. I turn in his arms and then clasp my hands behind his neck, his darkened eyes staring into mine. With a playful smirk I lift up on my toes to reach his ear.

“Live a little with me, Oliver,” I purr. “I’m a poor jilted bride all alone on her honeymoon.”

“Are you flirting with me, Scarlett?”

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