Page 58 of Her Wicked Knights
I cringe. Wasted is not what I want to be. Giving up control like that sounds more terrifying than relaxing. I just need to take the edge off, to get right on that sweet spot between tipsy and drunk, dance this 'luscious'ass off, and sleep ‘til noon.
"It's fine." She rolls her eyes, tapping her bottle against mine in cheers. And then I tip my head back, swallowing all the liquid before hardly letting it touch my tongue.
******************
I cross quickly from stone-cold sober to what I can only assume is drunk, and it's not terrifying.
It's glorious.
I've spent my entire life living by an arbitrary set of rules. When your father is the sheriff, you hold yourself to a higher standard. And I hate disappointing people, so I don't often make decisions that could result in someone being disappointed with me.
Underage drinking is illegal, but what's the worst thing that happens? I get arrested and spend a night in jail? I get charged? Have to pay a fine or do community service?
I've served my community plenty over the years. And it's not like I have grand plans for the future anyway.
One year ago, my life was perfect. I had a boyfriend I loved, friends who were always there when I needed them, and loving, accepting parents.
Now, all that's gone.
Jake turned into a bit of a psychopath who tried to assault my best friend, the rest of my friends have drifted apart despite the fact none of us went away for college, and I have to go to the fucking cemetery to feel like my parents are near. So, I think that taking the chance to relax for once in my life is well-deserved.
I'm sweaty and breathless, and unable to hold onto a single thought. They're all slippery, and it's a nice change from the way my mind has been obsessing over the same things for months. It's nice to clear the mental image of my parents' bodies, of them in the casket...
"I have to pee!" Audrey yells over the girl who somehow managed to end up between us. I don't know when she got there, given that Audrey and I were just dancing together.
"I'll come with—"
"Stay!" Audrey commands, smirking. "Just keep dancing! I'll get us fresh drinks on the way back."
The girl in front of me grins and closes the space between us, and Audrey disappears into the crowd, so I do exactly what she said. I just keep dancing... with the girl, by myself, with whoever appears behind me and plants a hand on my hip, syncing his body with mine.
It's like the music overrides everything else. I've noticed that before, that I can turn the music up loud enough to drown out my thoughts. But fueled by the alcohol, it's practically witchcraft. I'm notpoor Marleytonight; I'm fucking powerful. It's why I don't bat the hands away from my body, why I let his touch skim along my curves, which are on full display in this top, touching, but never groping.
Hot breath on my neck has every nerve in my body on fire, and still, I just keep dancing, and still, he keeps pace. His touch isn't possessive or presumptuous, not inappropriate but something like worship. Reverence.
Fuck, it feels good.
I'm not the type of girl to have a one-night stand, I don't think. Jake's the only person I've ever had sex with. He's the only one I've ever even kissed, unless you count that time with Tripp, which is not the same thing at all. But if dancing can feel this good, what would it be like to do more? To feel those hands on my skin without fabric between us, to see the desire in his eyes?
I spin so suddenly, I get a little dizzy as the world blurs around me, looking for the man who's been dancing with me. I don't see him, though, because he's too close. All I can make out is a grin, and then his mouth is on mine, one of those hands cradling the back of my head as he tips it back to deepen the kiss.
It's explosive, passionate, lust driven by alcohol. But he doesn't taste like alcohol. He tastes like cinnamon as his tongue slides against mine, and heat curls through my veins, desire flooding me to my toes.
I think I sway as he kisses me, weightless and unable to feel my feet beneath me. It's like I'm floating, and I don't even care if my feet never touch the ground again.
I don't know how much time passes like that. I don't care to know. I don't care about anything other than this moment.
When his lips leave mine, it's so sudden that I nearly fall over as his body disappears from before mine.
By the time I find my footing and open my eyes, there's no one there at all. I scan the floor, looking for anyone who could have been the mystery man dancing with me, the one whose touch felt somehow electric.
But there's no one so much as looking my way.
30
Rev
Mypitypartyisover, I'm painfully sober, and it's time to dance with the fucking devil.
