Page 65 of Chasing Sarah

The base of the music syncs with the pounding of my heart. The pull between me and Rhys is addictive.

Maybe I just need to fuck him out of my system. Clearly my pussy is addicted because he’s the only man to make me submit. The only one who knows how to handle me as woman.

That’s what it is. The feelings I have toward him are simply physical.

Paige and I settle in the booth, Declan sits next to her, and Rhys sits beside me. I feel the heat radiating off his body from how close he sits.

My thighs unconsciously rub together. The ache in my core grows with each passing second.

Declan orders four glasses of Irish whiskey.

My body is scorching. I barely feel the burn as it travels down my throat.

“Feeling okay,mo réalta?”

It’s almost painful to suppress the shudders threating to pulse down my spine.

“I’m great.” My cheeks burn from the wide smile I offer.

His eyes lazily coast down my body.

Oh God.

He leans into my ear. His breath is hot against my skin. “You look absolutely edible.”

A whimper escapes my lips.

Rhys lets out a satisfied hum.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you. My cock misses sinking into that tight little pussy of yours.” I startle when I feel his fingers caress my thigh. “You’ve been teasing me all week.”

I side-eye him. “You haven’t been so innocent.”

“Never claimed to be.” He shrugs, pulling away to sip his whiskey.

My attention is pulled when Paige stands and makes her way to the railing that overlooks the dance floor.

An odd twinge pinches my stomach as I watch her people watch.

She’s falling for Declan and I’m going to end up being left behind.

I’ll be alone again.

That thought soaks me like a bucket of ice water.

All traces of lust and happiness is washed away. Panic and grief take their place.

Doing what I do best, I shove my feelings deep down. Masking it with the Sarah everyone knows. The happy go-lucky woman who only radiates a wild spirit with no troubles that haunt her.

I feel Rhys’ stare on my profile but avoid turning toward him.

I refuse to let anyone see the shift in my mood – especially Rhys. I don’t need him trying to tug at my heart strings and unravel what I hide.

Our attention is jerked to the stairs when a man shouts.

“Pezzo di merda!”

The Italian from the restaurant is fighting with the bouncers, trying to shove his way through.

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