Page 69 of Breaking You Open

I turn with a startle to see Louis behind me. A displeased wrinkle creases his brows as he glares at my cigarette.

“Didn’t you say you have to work?” I ask.

“Thisisworking,” Louis grumbles.

“I’m just trying it out,” I say, putting the cigarette back between my lips.

“I can see that.”

“It’s not weed, at least.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grunts. “Careful. That stuff will make you feel sick if you’re not used to it.”

He seems like he’s steeling himself from tearing my cigarette away. I thought for sure he’d be angrier about me smoking, but maybe he’s finally starting to realize I’m an adult who can make my own bad decisions.

“I thought you wanted to have fun,” he says. “Party and all that.”

“I did, but …”

“Not feeling it?”

My gaze falls. “No.”

“Want to dance?”

My mouth falls open, and the cigarette drops to the ground. “Dance?”

Out of all the words that could have come out of Louis’s mouth, this was in the top ten most unlikely. It has to be a joke, right? But he’s not laughing or smiling; he’s as serious as he is about almost everything else. In fact, he seems a bit peeved about my obvious puzzlement.

“But…don’t you have to work?” I ask.

Louis crosses his arms. “You want to or not?”

“No, I want to,” I say quickly, and I do; I want to have the same experience as Lilith and Asher. I want to feel like I’m wanted—like I’m worthy of having fun.

Louis cocks his head toward the crowd. “After you.”

“Oh, um, all right…” I walk toward the dance floor, feeling Louis’s eyes at the back of my neck. His gaze licks a trail down my body, and the attention sends goose bumps prickling all over my skin.

As I approach the crowd, I turn around, and a few feet away, Louis is prowling toward me, his predatory gaze fixed on mine, a curl to his lips as I back further into the crowd. The people part for our entry like the Red Sea, and my breath gets stuck in my throat when Louis slides up close.

We barely have time to sway to the music before his hands wrap around my waist, and his lips slot over mine. Soft and warm, his tongue probes my mouth, and we move to the pulse of the music, my arms reaching to enclose his neck. His hands twine into my hair and rip my head back as our bodies writhe against each other.

This is better than I’ve ever dared to imagine. I’ve always wanted to dance with someone and make out on a dance floor. I tried to do so with Eric, but it didn’t feel right back then. This feelsmorethan right; it feels awesome.

Everything fades away. The music blasting into my ears and the sweaty crowd surrounding us don’t seem as intimidating as before. I’m fully present in Louis’s arms, in his touch, and everything else is just noise. Inconsequential.

We dance for what feels like hours, and I smile into his mouth, heady and dizzy and with only one thought in my mind.

Home. He’s my home. My everything.

I open my eyes, and as I look over his shoulder, there’s a silhouette in my periphery. Blond hair, a sharp face, and freakishly light eyes. He’s leaning against a half-crumbled pillar with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

No …

I almost make myself fall backward with how quickly I rip away from Louis’s arms.

He pulls me back into his body, lips by my ear. “What’s wrong?”

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