Page 2 of Blindside Me
“Does it matter?”
He laughs as if we’re in on the same joke. “Guess not.” His lips brush my neck, and I shiver in a way that feels like victory.
God, this feels amazing. Safe even. Maybe it’s the tequila. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of being rejected, and tonight I just want to feel.
He stays quiet while my body moves with his, reckless and untethered, the club spinning around us. Strobe lights cut through the dark, flashing over faces I don’t know or care about. This is my first real night out since I arrived at my uncle’s house, and after our argument tonight, it is my first chance to forget what I’ve left behind.
Who’s already forgotten me.
An ex who said we’d go the distance but was caught tangled up with my best friend the next night.
A mother too busy “finding herself” to bother with her daughter.
A fucking uncle who only showed up when it was convenient.
That last one stings the most.
Or it did.
I’m over it now.
The next song hits louder and dirtier.
Mr. Hottie’s touch is strong, sending sparks through me and making me shiver. I lean closer and lose myself the way I’ve wanted to all night. I can’t tell if I’m doing this because I want tofeel alive, because I’m reckless, or because I’m already obsessed with unraveling someone who seems so perfectly together.
Maybe it’s all three.
His touch presses deeper, guiding me as I move, and I match him, beat for beat, until the music is everything, and I can barely breathe.
“You’re mine,” he growls into my skin, his voice thick and dark like he’s already picturing me screaming his name.
I don’t argue. I can’t. His other hand slides up my thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to make me moan. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t wait. His thumb finds the wet heat between my legs, pressing in just enough to make me jerk against him.
“Fuck,” I pant and spin to face that cocky grin of his. Oh, yeah. He’s used to girls tripping over themselves for that smile. I shoot one back at him, daring him to keep up.
“You going to make me guess?” he asks, dipping his head closer as we move together.
The music pulses around us. My head spins as the tequila hits heavy and electric. “What?”
“Your name.”
What is the obsession with knowing my name?
Instead of answering, I say, “Go wild.”
His lips brush my neck. My entire body tingles from the contact. “You look like trouble.”
I laugh at that. Rich, coming from him. But he’s right.
We’re in our own little world now. Everyone else is just a blur of color and sound, and I’m not thinking about anything but this moment. This guy whose name I don’t need to know. This night I’ll forget by morning.
He’s hard against me, all muscle and confidence. His hands roam lower, grip firmer as he pulls me tight.
Everything spins in the best way.
I grin at him as we grind against each other, surrounded by the chaos I’ve craved for weeks. We don’t even stop when the music changes. The faster beats pound harder and push us into a new rhythm that leaves no room for doubt.
No room for thinking.
