Page 30 of Ride By Your Side

I place my hand on her shoulder and guide her to the inner side of the sidewalk, positioning myself as a shield between her and the bustling chaos of the Vegas Strip. The city’s infamous party crowds are in full swing tonight. Rowdy laughter, flashinglights, and blaring music spill out from every corner. It’s sensory overload for a small-town guy like me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not alert and ready to step in if anybody tries to mess with us, or more importantly, her.

“Wherever you want. This is your trip,” I say, my eyes scanning the area, truly taking it all in.

She nudges my arm with her shoulder. “It’s our trip. Plus, I want you to have fun too, especially now that I know you are, in fact, capable of enjoying yourself and having a good time. And what better place than Las Vegas to let go and fully unleash your wild side?”

I roll my eyes with a smirk. “Oh, I’ve always been capable of having fun. We’ve just never exactly agreed on what qualifies asfun.”

While she found “fun” in stirring up trouble and causing as much chaos as possible in our small Colorado town, I preferred keeping to myself, diving headfirst into cars, and learning everything I could about them.

“Okay, well, in a place like Vegas, what exactly is your idea of fun?” she asks, raising a brow in my direction. I tilt my head from side to side as I mull it over, realizing I’m not quite sure.

“See!” She giggles, taking my moment of hesitation as an answer.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been much of a drinker, as you already know…” I trail off, hesitating. Growing up with an alcoholic father, I’ve always tread carefully when it comes to drinking. I know I’m nothing like him, but even the mere thought of turning out like the notorious Bill Bennett sends a chill down my spine. “Sure, I’ll hit up a bar or two outside of Evergreen every now and then, but this place?” I glance around, my unease clear. “It’s more than a little out of my comfort zone.”

“In a place like this, I’m sure we can find something interesting to do that doesn’t involve drinking,” she assures me.“But I will say, I am kind of tempted to try one of those big slushy-type drinks that I keep seeing people walking around with,” she sheepishly admits, nodding in the direction of what I have to assume is a bachelorette party, as they walk in matching pink outfits with giant, wavy-like cups of what I assume is a blended alcoholic beverage.

“Then let’s get one,” I give in with a decisive nod.

She shoots me a skeptical look. “Really?”

“When in Vegas, right?” I ask, shrugging. Plus, it’s not like I plan to let myself lose control. After years of practice, I know how to keep myself in check.

Okay, so maybe I let myself drink a little more than I usually do—or okay, let’s be real—a lot more. That’s the only way I can explain why I let her drag me to this nightclub. The throbbing music and flashing lights make it feel like an entirely different world in here. There’s definitely nothing like it back in Evergreen, that’s for sure.

“Come on, Miles. Please,” she begs, pouting out her freshly painted bottom lip.Fuck!The buzz of alcohol courses through my veins, fueled by the sugary slushy, the cocktails we were served during our gambling session, and the shots we took just after arriving at the club. It’s a thousand times harder to resist her allure now.

That’s not the only thing that’s gotten harder. I’ve had to adjust myself more than once in an attempt to hide what’s happening down south, and all because of nothing more than being in her mere presence.

“You have to know that I’m not a dancer,” I warn, praying my words are enough to keep her pleas at bay.

“Believe me, I never expected you to be one, but do you really want me out there on that dance floor all alone?” she asks, batting her lashes innocently as she links her fingers together, her chin tilted in a pleading gesture.

Clearly, she knew exactly what to say, because at that, I push myself off the red velvet couch where I’ve taken residence in an effort to give my body a break. I know my kind, and I know plenty of men would do practically anything to dance with Veronica, to get up close and personal with her. It really shouldn’t matter what she does or who she does it with, but the primal part of me refuses to let that happen tonight—or, if possible, ever. I tell myself it’s the alcohol talking, but I’m no longer sure.

The small buzz I usually get from a couple of beers is gone, replaced by a deep, burning warmth that courses through my entire body. I’ve never felt this bold before. The typical Miles would flat-out refuse to be seen on the dance floor, afraid of how people might view him, but this version? He couldn’t care less.

With an excited clap of her hands, she grabs mine and pulls me along, practically yanking me toward the middle of the dance floor.

The energy of the club is nothing short of intoxicating—a living, breathing force that wraps itself around us like a warm blanket. Strobe lights slice through the darkness in vibrant hues of purple, blue, and pink while the pounding bass reverberates in my chest like a second heartbeat. The air is thick with a mix of sweat, perfume, and the faint tang of spilled drinks. I should be grossed out. I should want nothing to do with this, but instead, it’s the exact opposite. I want more of it, and as she moves her body to the music, I find myself swaying along.

A smile blossoms on her face as she watches me, clearly impressed by what she sees, even if she has no reason to be. I’m a mess of flailing limbs as I attempt to keep up, likely appearingmore ape-like than graceful, but she doesn’t seem to care as she moves her body even closer.

Despite the alcohol swirling around in her own system, she moves with hypnotic grace and my eyes refuse to focus on anything but her. She places a hand on my shoulder, then lets it fall, her fingers tracing a slow, agonizing path down my chest, lingering on the bare skin before sinking lower. Only when her fingers brush the waistband of my pants does she pull them away, lowering herself and swaying in time with the music before rising and spinning around to press her back against me.

Shit. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, but as her ass presses into my already hard cock, I know I’m a goner—especially as she reaches her arms behind her and her fingertips graze my shoulders once again.

I shouldn’t touch her. I should be putting a stop to this, especially since there’s no way she doesn’t feel my hardness pressing into her ass. But instead of following reason, my hands trace their way along her arms, savoring the goosebumps rising on her skin.

Soon, I drop my arms, letting them slink around her waist. My fingers do a little exploring of their own as I attempt to move in sync with her. One hand stays on her flat stomach while the other trails upward, barely grazing the bottom of her breast.

I should know better, but all sense of restraint vanishes as my hand slides higher, slipping beneath the plunging neckline. My fingers brush against the soft, supple skin of her breast, finding her nipple. Her breath hitches, and she presses her backside into me more firmly, drawing a groan from my lips. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about anyone noticing—or caring—since everyone around us seems lost in their own world.

As she leans her head back against my chest, I’m only encouraged to explore further. I carefully take her nipple between my fingers and give it a soft pinch, continuing to enjoythe feel of her ass brushing against my dick.God, she feels good. Before I can completely lose control, she turns to face me, her earthy-brown eyes hooded with lust, lips slightly parted as she drags her teeth hungrily across her bottom lip.

The temptation to bend down and drag that lip against mine is palpable, but I hold back. Instead I reach out and pull her into me—partly because I can no longer stand the distance between us, and also because if she’s not in front of me, it’s going to become pretty damn obvious just how much of an effect she’s having on me.

I need to stop this. I know I do. She may be a twenty-eight-year-old woman, but it’s always been clear that between the two of us, I’m the responsible one. Then again, I’m not so sure I deserve that title anymore as I snake my hands around her waist, one hand sliding down beneath the hem of her skirt to take in a firm handful of her round ass.

---