Page 2 of Convenient Mafia Vows

I can still feel the music vibrating in my bones even if it feels good to have a few moments to myself to breathe while I’m shut inside the cubicle. My head is pleasantly fuzzy. I’m probably more chilled than I’ve been in months. But still, I feel like something is missing from my life.

Flushing, and then standing in front of the mirror, I touch up my lip gloss, and check that my mascara hasn’t run while I’ve been boogying my butt off out there.

Deep breath.

I follow Sienna outside and realize, a beat too late, and when the space we’ve just vacated inside the restroom has already been filled, that I left my purse behind.

“Sienna, my purse!”

She doesn’t hear me with the bass rocking the club, so I dash back inside, breathe a sigh of relief when I spot my purse next to the basin where I left it, and grab it quickly. I need to find Sienna before she gets swallowed up by a whole bunch of sweaty bodies and is lost to me forever. Or at least until we both sober up tomorrow morning.

Head down, I don’t make eye contact with anyone in the line, and instead, collide headfirst with a rock-solid chest who isn’t watching where he’s going either. I tilt my head back and find myself gazing into green eyes framed by the thickest lashes I’ve ever seen on a man. His black hair is gelled back into an Elvis-style quaff, and he’s wearing a beaten-up leather jacket over a white T-shirt.

“Danny?” I squeal like a teenager.

“Sandy?” His voice squeaks as he catches on quickly.

“Oh my God, I’ve always wanted to say that.” My gaze travels down from Danny Zuko’s wide smile and perfect white teeth to the broad shoulders and rippling chest muscles. I don’t dare look any lower. Besides, chests have always been my thing.

He leans closer, so close that I can smell cinnamon on him, like he’s spent the holidays baking cookies. I can’t drag my eyes away. My body is refusing to cooperate, and my heart is going frantic inside my rib cage like I just bumped into the real Danny Zuko, and nothing else exists outside of those dark mossy flecks in his green-green eyes.

“Where have you been all my life?” he murmurs.

Wait. Even my fuzzy brain recognizes that this isn’t a line fromGrease. But I play along anyways.

“Waiting for you?”

It must be the right response because his smile grows, lighting up his beautiful face and crinkling the corners of his eyes, and I feel his hand slide around my waist as his lips press on mine.

His other hand entwines with the blonde curls and tips my head back, causing my brain cells to swim, and the ground to slide out from under me. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on his tongue in my mouth. I taste beer and liquor, and it isn’t at all unpleasant because I’m kissing Danny Zuko at a New Year’s Eve party, and when my legs give way, he keeps me upright like it’s what he was made to do.

He pulls his tongue from my mouth long enough to murmur, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” and then it’s back again, and I’m not fighting it because tonight, for one night only, I’m the Sandy to his Danny.

I don’t know how long we stand there kissing like it’s the end of the world. Time has stopped, and I barely even remember who I am or what I’m doing here.

When he pulls away, leaving my lips swollen and still parted, my tongue aching for his, I feel the crushing weight of disappointment. This is it. This is the moment when he realizes his mistake, that I’m not the Sandy he arrived with, and makes an excuse to get away from me as quickly as possible.

But instead, he looks me directly in the eye and says, “Come with me.”

It isn’t a question, and I don’t even have a chance to answer before he grabs my hand and leads me through the club and outside into the freezing New York City night.

This isn’t happening to me.

It can’t be.

I’m Victoria Callahan, virgin extraordinaire, the girl who gives off all the wrong vibes for bagging a stud, and yet, when I climb into the back of a yellow taxi and Danny Zuko’s lips reattach to mine, none of that even matters. He could be a psycho serial killer with a blonde wig fetish for all I know. But the ache between my legs tells me that I’m going to let him fuck me.

The cab pulls up on the curb, and Danny tosses some cash to the driver, his warm hand still in mine. He lets himself into an apartment building without a word. While we wait for the elevator, his tongue finds mine again, his hands roaming my body and touching me in places I’ve never been touched before.

He pushes me against the wall, the button dinging behind my back, and crushes my breasts with both hands, while he smothers my mouth with his own, his oxygen becoming mine. I’m breathless when we both roll into the elevator.

By the time we roll out of it and into his apartment, I can barely even stand, my legs are trembling so badly. “Danny, I’m?—”

He tips my head backward, arching my neck so that it’s hard to breathe, and then I feel his teeth digging into the soft flesh around my mouth, and I can’t even remember what I was going to say.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words caress my sore lips as he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Then, his tongue is tracing a line down my neck, and somehow, my breasts are exposed, and his mouth is closing around my nipples, his teeth nibbling the sensitive flesh. I gasp with the sheer pleasure of the sensation, pushing my lower back against the wall and inadvertently thrusting my nipples harder into his mouth.

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