When we break the kiss, we keep dancing, locking eyes. It’s too loud to talk, but we don’t need words to communicate, we know each other so well.
She gives me a smug smirk, meaning I lost the bet.
I raise an eyebrow, signaling I still don’t know what her prize will be.
Lori shrugs, telling me she will come up with something.
The beat of the music changes and a young, good-looking woman sidles up to me grinding on my side, making moves as if to push me away from Lori. But my Lola is not having it, she pulls me away and switches places with me, inserting herself between me and the woman, just like she did at the wedding party meet and greet with Kirsten’s sister. My would-be suitor goes in search of a different prey.
I spin Lori round and pull her against me, back to front, whisper-yelling in her ear, “I like it when you go all possessive, Archibald.”
Lori struggles to get free and faces me again. “What can I say?” she shouts back. “I don’t like to share.”
I can’t help but grin at her fiery expression.
I’m about to pull her to me again when Aiden’s brother appears next to us. “Come on, guys, we’re switching bars.”
We squeeze our way between the crowd and out of the bar, back onto the crowded street. We follow the others holding hands, high on the drinks, the dancing, and the kissing.
Aiden’s brother leads us to a place that is more a club than a bar. Soon, we’re inside, sinking into wide, comfy couches around a table, surrounded by twinkling lights, a low hum of music, and a sea of people.
We order drinks at the bar on the other side of the room. I stay next to Lori, our legs touching. I have to lean in to talk to her over the music and then, suddenly, I become hyperaware of her presence again. Her smell, her smile, that secret twinkle in her eyes. I’m drunk—not on alcohol, but on her. I’m 100 per cent gone—intoxicated.
I reach for her hand. Lori’s fingers are cold despite the heat of the room. I rub small circles on her palm. Her touch is the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. I look up at her, she’s looking at me, her eyes are soft and she’s biting her lip in her signature nervous gesture.
“You look kind of scary intense right now,” she says.
How can she always read my mind?
I move my hand from her palm to her wrist, pulling her closer to me. “How can you tell?”
Lori shrugs. “The look in your eyes.”
I’ve never been one for PDAs, but the way she understands me makes me want to pin her against the wall and kiss her for the entire world to see.
Everyone else is already on the dancefloor, singing along to some song, and I tug Lori’s hand to get her to stand up. She’s still watching me with that wicked gleam in her eyes.
I lean in to kiss her. I try to make it soft, sensual, but then I get carried away and we’re swirling, twisting, and twirling to the beat of the music, a dance we’ve perfected together, coming up for air only to kiss again. Our bodies are pressed at every angle, but it’s not enough. I want more. I want it all.
But I can’t have it. Not yet. Not until she’s sure it’s me she wants.
I have to give her time, wait, and be patient. But right now, I can’t think straight. Not with her hand on the back of my neck and her lips touching my jaw and then, even more dangerously, my earlobe.
Lori smirks and whispers in my ear, “Now you look naughty intense.”
I can’t take it. I want her so much it’s killing me.
I take a step back and basically run out of the club.
Lori follows me outside and is by my side in an instant.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Sorry.” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s just that…” I cup her face. “I love you. I love you so much.”
27
LORI