Page 3 of Spinning Out Of Control

I don’t have it in me to refute her claim. I haven’t forgotten that until two minutes ago, I was a complete mess. This bout of cocky, self-assured confidence could be nothing more than fool’s gold.For now, I’m content to just exist in Kira McKenna’s orbit, happily accepting any scraps she’s generous enough to toss my way.

“You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” I ask, and she laughs, shaking her head.

“Oh, SSF, you have no idea.”

“SSF? You want to tell me what that stands for?”

“Probably not.” She sets her half-empty flute of champagne down on the bar and holds up a hand for me to shake. “McKenna. Kira McKenna.”

She winks, amused with her own James Bondimpression. I take her hand in mine, giving it a firm shake and cataloging the velvety smooth skin of her palm in my memory bank. It’s certainly a feeling I’ll want to remember, to recall when I’m alone in my bed with only my thoughts and the memory of her skin on mine to keep me warm.

“Yates. Warren Yates.”

“Warren. Nice name, I like it.”

She drops my hand, and I want to grab it back. But this time, I’d like to interlock my fingers with hers.

“And I like yours. Can I buy you a free drink, Kira?” I ask, gesturing to her nearly empty champagne. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, worrying at the flesh that’s been painted the prettiest shade of pink. Her eyes dart from the glass in her hand, to the dance floor, then back at me. She looks contemplative, like I asked her to recite Pi to a hundred digits instead of continuing our flirty back and forth. My nerves return, bubbling in my core like a pot of simmering water and I’m about to retract my offer of sharing a drink with her when she shakes her head and smiles.

“Why the hell not, Ren?”

Ren.

No one has ever called me Ren before. I didn’t even think ‘Warren’ was the kind of name a person could shorten into a nickname. It’s just Warren. Nothing special.

But fuck. Just like that, I’m Ren. This woman has marked me. Shortened my name, made it her own. ‘Ren’ sounds so sweet on Kira’s tongue. I briefly let myself think it would taste even better. I clear my throat, shaking away the incessant butterflies flapping away in my core.

Lifting a finger, I signal for Xander. He swings by to top off Kira’s champagne and I request a finger of Macallan.

“So, Kira McKenna, how do you know the bride and groom?” I ask, though I know the answer. I figured it out the first time I saw her at the housewarming turned engagement party James hosted at his penthouse back in autumn. Xander places our drinks on the bar top, and Kira tips her glass to me. I meet her halfway, clinking the flute with my tumbler before lifting it to my lips.

“Georgie is my best friend. Well, one of them anyway. There’s four of us in The Pussy Posse–Georgie, Dottie, Rachel and me. Georgie is our newest recruit, but she fits us like a glove. I’m only slightly bitter that James came along and stole her heart away, but I love seeing her happy.” She sighs dreamily as she gazes towards the dance floor, where James kisses his bride like there’s no one else in the room.

“Okay, I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this, but what the hell is a–” I stutter, waving a hand between us instead of repeating the deliciously vulgar word. “What you just said. Is that anything like SSF?”

She laughs with her entire body. Her head shakes, her chest trembles. Her mouth drops open, showing offpearly white teeth. The loud cackle cuts through the air, overpowering the sounds of the band and the party. Her laugh is full and loud. It's carefree. It is single-handedly the best sound I have ever heard.

“They’re similar, for sure,” she says through her giggles. “I believe that people and things need codenames. Preferably ridiculous ones that you might not want to repeat in polite company. Something silly enough that people outside of the know would be embarrassed to repeat it. SSF is my codename for you, Ren.”

“And your codename for your girlfriends is the–” I cough, choking on the naughty word. “Pussy Posse?”

I feel my cheeks go pink, and Kira cuts me with a devious little smirk.

“Oh, you poor man. It just killed you to say the p-word, didn’t it? Do you prefer to keep the taboo nicknames for female genitalia in the bedroom, Ren? Or would I find you to be just as shy in there, too?” She reaches out and toys with a button on my shirt as she calls me out. My head spins. Her light touch, the suggestion of the bedroom, the suggestion that she might join me in said bedroom? It’s turning me topsy-turvy with lust. I shudder, and I know she clocks it because her smirk grows into a wicked grin.

I can’t let her get the upper hand so easily, though. Clearing my throat, I channel all my sexual prowess and lean in, brushing my lips against her ear.

“If you got me into the bedroom, you’d find I amanything but shy. You might also find that I have no problems uttering all sorts of naughty words, in the right setting.”

This time, Kira is left shuddering. Her chest flushes the same shade of pink as her dress. Seeing the effect my words have on her body sends a thrill running through my own. I lift my scotch to my lips, sipping as though I am completely unaffected by her.

Kira blinks as though she’s bringing herself back to the moment. It’s as if I’d momentarily sent her soaring somewhere else.

I’d love to send her soaring somewhere, that’s for sure.

The music speeds up to something punchy, a cover of some pop song I can’t quite recognize without lyrics. Kira hitches a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing towards the dance floor.

“Come dance with me.”

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