Page 7 of As Devils Love

“Woah. Easy, tiger.” The barman returns after serving some other patrons. “It’s a stiff drink, and I’d prefer to see you walk rather than fall out of here.” He laughs, but I can hear how serious he is.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I’m not a huge drinker, but dinners with my father and Simone often end up with more than a few empty wine bottles.

“Not worried. Just a heads up, is all. Have a great rest of your night,” he concludes and heads back to work.

Though I doubt a single cocktail is going to be the difference maker on my level of sobriety, I heed the barman’s advice and take my time with the second half.

I’m glad I do, too, as by the time I finish and slip off my bar stool to go back to the dance floor, a warm haze of good liquor is coating my brain and making my knees wobbly.

Okay...nowI’m really ready to get this party started.

I approach my next session with new vigor. The thrum of music against the inside of my chest takes control, and before I know it, I’m lost to the sounds, swaying my hips like I just don’t care, throwing my arms around in vicious flurries, and taking on every newcomer who wants a dance partner.

It’s a whirl of music and movement. Men, women, anyone who wants a turn; I don’t discriminate. I lose all of my fears about what tomorrow night’s meeting with father might bring, for one night of normalcy.

That is, untilhisgloved hands slide over my hips.

Untilhisenormous tattoo laden chest is in direct line of my eyes.

Untilhisemerald eyes shimmer beneath the low light of the floor.

“Thank you for my cocktail.” Holy shit, I’m slurring my words. Moving constantly from one partner to the next, I didn’t realize when I shifted from warm giddiness to actually feeling drunk.

I’d better keep moving so it doesn’t catch up with me even harder.

“You’re most welcome.” His voice somehow carries itself as a husky whisper through the music.

“I knew it was you.” I proclaim giddily, but never allow my feet to stop moving. I’m starting to feel something, and if I take a break now, it’s going to get a whole lot worse. I really don’t want to make an ass of myself in front of my mysterious stranger.

“Are you doing alright?” His smooth as silk voice travels down my ear.

“You’re probably so freaking sexy under that mask.” I blurt out, without thinking. My eyes widen and I gulp down hard at my outburst.

There goes any attempt at not making an ass of myself.

He uses his hands, on my hips, to pull me tighter against his body, when he leans in again. I can feel every inch of his firm body now. The tight abs he must spend way too much time in the gym for. His strong hands grip me firmly in place, while we rock back and forth to the beat. Most surprisingly, it’s the stiffness of the muscle dangling between his legs that I feel most of all.

If I hadn’t just caught myself saying something I’m already regretting, I’d have probably made some crude joke about his club bashing down my walls. Well... if he’s lucky, I might still do it. Aren’t random hook ups part of the clubbing experience?

As my mind crosses fromnearly drunk tofull-blown, on the verge of making big mistakes drunk,my senses reach new heights. He moves smoothly to the music and pulls me along with every one of his motions while I breathe in the intoxicating, woody aroma that clings to his skin. I can feel every flex of his muscles against my breasts and belly as we dance, and I’m constantly reminded of the bulge in his pants with every hip gyration he makes.

I’ve never been swept off my feet before. Who would’ve guessed it would be someone wearing a mask? Turns out, this bad boy shit is totally my jam.

But my euphoria is short-lived. Barely a song goes by before my head suddenly feels as if it has tripled in weight. My limbs follow suit, and it’s becoming harder and harder to keep time with the mysterious stranger’s energetic movements.

For the first time since he came over to me, his entrancing eyes have shifted away from me. I can’t see where he’s looking, but there’s a cold intent in that gaze. Total hardness that rivals the rod jamming into my side.

“It’s time for you to go home, Fiametta.”

Did he just use my name? No. It can’t be. My drunken brain must be playing tricks on me.

“What did you ju—” My words aren’t slurring anymore, they’re full-blown gibberish in my ears. I can’t even shout them out to cut through the music anymore.

“Go home. You’re not looking well.” His eyes continue gazing out into the distance while he speaks. “Wouldn’t want to see you hurt by someone looking to take advantage of you.”

That’s a plus, right? He can tell I’m on the verge of blacking out, but he’s trying to help me get away from here. His good-natured spirit makes me want to stay even longer. Spend time in his arms and—

“Fia?” Simone’s voice tickles the inside of my ear. Her hands wrap around my waist, breaking the stranger’s contact for the first time since he touched me. “Are you okay?” Her question comes out in a frenzy of anxiety.

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