Page 158 of Broken Breath
I let myself sink into it fully then. My head falls back against his shoulder, and my eyes flutter shut, justfeeling. His hand slides lower, teasing at the line of my waistband, andeverythingis amplified.
His fingers skim just under the band, not quite slipping in, just enough to make me ache. I arch into him with a soft, broken sound that betrays everything I’ve been trying to hide. I can feel how hard he is and how badly he wants to let go.
Just when I’m about two seconds away from grabbing Luc by the collar, ripping that snug shirt off his chest, and licking every inch of him right here on the damn dance floor, Otis’s voice bursts through my sensory haze.
“Delacroix,” he yells over the thumping bass. “W-we need to get some content for Paul or he’ll have our asses.”
My eyes open slowly, reluctantly. Luc is still flush against me, his breath ragged against my ear, and it takes him a second to respond, like we’re both swimming back to reality from wherever the hell we were headed. Slowly, his hand slides off my stomach, dragging along the hem of my hoodie.
“Yeah…” he says, sounding drunk. “Yeah, you’re right.”
I turn and watch his throat as he talks, then realize that I’m pressing my thighs together, subconsciously seeking some relief from the desperate ache building low and hot between them.
Luc sets his not-even-half-finished beer into my hands, smirking lazily like he didn’t just wreck me in the middle of a dance floor. “Hold this for me,bébé? No alcohol on the socials. Gotta keep the sponsors happy.”
I nod dumbly, clinging to the plastic cup like it’s going to keep me standing.
He takes a step away, but then turns back abruptly, coming to my side and brushing the side of his face against mine. “Don’t go far. I’m coming back to finish what we started.”
I stare after him, my brain having bid fucking farewell, then step back as Otis pulls his phone out, puts the flash on, and starts filming.
The burst of white light punches through the dark club, illuminating Luc in all his damn glory. His grin is full throttle again, teeth flashing as he starts to dance and rolls his hips, flirting shamelessly with the camera. Otis moves inclose, then swings back, hyping it up, and capturing every move, every stupidly perfect angle of Luc, who owns it all, laughing, sliding a hand through his hair, winking into the lens like he knows exactly how hot he looks, and yeah,the footage is going to be insane.
The light attracts the crowd like moths, and everybody presses closer, shouting his name, raising their hands, phones up and recording.
I can’t fight the tide as I get pushed farther and farther from Luc again, even though I want to push against it this time. The DJ starts a new song, the crowd swarms even more, and instead of pressing forward like I want, I stumble back a step, then another, and another until I slam backward into something solid.
Someonesolid.
The beer sloshes over my hand on the way to soaking the front of my hoodie.Fuck.The cold liquid sticks to my chest as heat blazes in my cheeks. Whirling around, I’m ready to tear into whoever the hell just…
Finn.
He’s standing there with his hands half-raised like he was about to catch me but didn’t move fast enough. His brows knit tight as he scans my soaked hoodie.
“Shit. I’m… fuck… I’m sorry.”
I let out a bitter huff, shaking the empty cup in his direction, beer dripping off the rim. “Yeah, you’re always fucking sorry.”
I don’t wait for whatever shit he was going to spew next, turning on my heel instead and stomping toward the back of the club. Pushing through the bodies is easy now that it’s a retreat, with the heat and bright lights flashing in my face, urging me on.
My skin prickles around the cold, sticky mess on my chest as I find the sign for the bathroom. I head toward thewomen’s like it’s second nature but catch myself just before I reach the door, veering hard into the men’s instead.
One guy is at the sinks, zipping up his jeans, and swaying on his feet. He lifts his head, blinks at me, then offers a lazy, drunken nod before stumbling out. The door slams shut behind him, leaving the room thick with the smell of beer and sweat.
I’m leaning over the sink, breathing hard, when the door creaks open.
Of fucking course.
Finn slips inside, closing the door softly behind him. His face is tight, and he stands there for a second, like he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing here, or how close he’s allowed to get.
“Al…” He steps forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
I peel off the hoodie in one sharp tug, cutting him off mid-sentence. His gaze sharpens on my chest, mouth parting slightly as his eyes darken.
I glance down, andoh shit.
My white T-shirt is plastered to my chest, beer-soaked and translucent, outlining every curve I’ve tried so hard to hide.
