Page 6 of Sinful Daughter (Dark Mafia Sins 2)

Lori and I have grown up differently. Her mother is an addict, and she spent more time at my house than her own growing up.

No one takes notice of us as we enter. I blend in better than I expected and breathe out a sigh of relief. I attempt to stop squirming, hoping my skirt will magically grow five more inches. Step by step, my anxiety drifts away, and I square my shoulders with confidence.

A girl walks by me, her nipples visible through her lace bra. No one blinks an eye at what she’s wearing, just like no one cares what I’m wearing either. Checking behind me, Leo isn’t ten feet away like normal. He uncannily blends in, enough where he doesn’t look like he’s trailing me, and I don’t notice his eyes on me.

My lips widen into a smile, as I like this place more than I initially thought I would. Lori is onto something. Tonight, this bar is my escape.

“What’s with the bouncer and money?” I holler into Lori’s ear. The music is loud, making it impossible to hear. My body vibrates with the bass of the sound system.

She leans in and yells, “I get a cut for how many people I bring in.”

Red, yellow, and green lights light up the DJ booth. My feet stick to the ground with the already spilled drinks. The place smells of stale beer with a twist of sugar.

“I need to say hi to a friend. How about you get a drink and meet back here?” she shouts, walking away from me.

It’s fine, I tell myself.I’m a big girl. Scanning the area, I head toward the bar. It’s lined up three bodies deep all around. People are calling out orders and waving bills to prove they have money. I’m able to wiggle closer to the front, but it still takes time. People are bumping into me, and I’m shuffled near the end of the bar until I reach the wet countertop.

“What are you drinking?”

I turn to the side; a handsome man is staring at me expectantly. He’s more rugged than I typically find attractive. A few tattoos poke out from his folded-up sleeves. The fabric stretches at his thick biceps. He has warm chocolate eyes, with one tiny imperfection of green in his right eye. He gives me a lazy grin, waiting for my answer.

“Vodka cranberry.” I smile at him before moving my attention back to the counter. The bartender greets him first, and he orders himself a rum and Coke and my vodka cranberry. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but I also don’t want to be presumptuous that he’s paying for mine. The bartender places the two cups on the bar as they exchange money, the mystery man handing me my drink.

“Next one is on me.” I’m forced to lean toward him, placing my hand on his shoulder as I attempt to talk over the music.

“What about a dance later instead?” he counters.

“Sure.” I raise my drink again as a thank you before I walk away. My skirt rides up farther with each step. I push down the leather with one hand as I keep walking, my drink spilling over its edges with the movement.

Stopping, I search the crowd for Lori. My eyes cast over the bodies on the dance floor as I take a sip, the flavor bitter on my tongue but warming me from the inside. In four gulps, I finish the plastic cup and attempt to fix my skirt properly.

“You ready for that dance?” Mr. Dark and Handsome is back in front of me. I look around for Lori, wishing I knew where the hell she went. “You looking for someone, sweetheart?” His deep voice brings my attention back to him. Smiling, I shake my head and place my hand in his outstretched one. His hands are enormous, like baseball gloves, and warm my flesh as he leads me across the room toward the edge near the darkest possible corner of the dance floor.

It’s fine. I’m someone else tonight, I convince myself. He grabs my hips, bringing me snug to his. My feet stumble over themselves, and I fall into his hard chest. His body dips down, and he moves without picking up his feet. Mimicking his rhythm, my body begins to move, and soon I’m dancing next to him. I forgot how much I enjoy dancing. I move around him, since his feet seem to be stuck on the floor. I allow my hands to trail over his shoulders and down his chest, being flirty as the music takes over me and I forget about all of my stresses while enjoying the moment.

“What’s your name?” His breath rasps against my ear.

I still. My heart suddenly panics before I scold it. “Lori.” I’m not even creative enough to pick the name of someone I don’t know.

“It suits you.”

He smiles down at me, and my stomach flutters. He’s handsome, with a slightly crooked nose from what I’m guessing was too many fights. His lips are full, looking soft.

I look back into his eyes, and I watch him glance at my lips. They’re suddenly dry, and I dip my tongue out to wet them.

“Can I kiss you?” He towers over me, and I have to look up to see him.

My smile has him leaning in farther, and I close my eyes in anticipation. I believe you can learn a lot from a kiss. It’s those initial seconds that can pave the way for the future. It’s in the first split second you know if you have chemistry and if there is something here to fight for.

In the dark corner of a noisy, rough bar, his lips descend on me. They slant on mine, diving deeper, giving me the best kiss of my life. He breathes life into the butterflies swirling in my stomach, and I grasp hold of him, my fingers slipping through his bedhead hair, pulling him in deeper.

His warm hand tugs me in, and I love the feel of his calloused fingers on my bare flesh. I no longer care we’re in a crowded bar. Tomorrow, this will be a distant memory, one I will replay for months to come.

He groans into my mouth, pressing his leg in between mine. Our feet are moving us blindly, and I follow, because I don’t want this kiss to end. I’ve kissed before, but it never felt like this. There is no awkwardness, even though we’re strangers.

If I met him in the street on a normal day, I wouldn’t give him a second look. Not because I wouldn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. I’m not allowed to look, no matter if I plan to touch or not.

He drags his knuckles down my cheek, my breath ragged, and I flush under his watchful eye. I like the way he’s looking at me, like he can’t get enough. There’s a miniature flame of hope that maybe this can be more than a perfect kiss with a stranger. Maybe we just haven’t crossed paths yet, and he’s someone my family approves of.

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