Page 61 of Prove You Wrong

As quickly as my fingers allow, I work the buttons on my top. Nate’s gaze darkens, his eyes locked on my chest, and I suddenly feel even more self-conscious. I shake off the blouse, leaving just a black camisole top, edged with a little bit of lace, to go with my tight cropped trousers and heels. I flick out my hair and immediately feel more appropriate.

My blouse folds away into my bag.

Taking my jacket back, I say, ‘Thanks, I felt a bit too office-y before.’

‘My pleasure,’ he growls. ‘Now, come here.’ Pulling me closer, he nips my ear lobe. ‘I can’t have you catching a cold.’

Oblivious to the temperature, heat and lust drench me, leaving me feeling twirly.

Unzipping his coat, I burrow my hands inside, feeling themuscles of his back, taut and hard. Moving down, I skim the band of his boxers.

‘Not fair,’ he murmurs.

The bouncer calls us forward. Huge and dressed in the requisite leather, too, his jacket is patched with logos I don’t recognise.

He and Nate fist bump. ‘You should have told me you were here, rather than waiting.’

‘It’s okay, man. Wouldn’t like to presume.’

The big guy checks my ID while continuing to chat with Nate. ‘Not been around for a while. You’ve been missed.’

‘Probably not by the management,’ Nate retorts.

The bouncer levels a gaze on me and then back to Nate. ‘Don’t listen to your boy here. He was their best customer.’ He jerks his head towards the club. ‘Missed by staff and customers alike.’

‘So you come here often?’ I raise an eyebrow at the deliberate line.

‘Oh, hecamehere often.’ The bouncer gives Nate a wink. ‘You have a good night now.’

‘That was weird,’ I lean in and whisper as we walk through.

‘He’s cool. But perhaps one too many whacks to the head splitting up bar fights.’

‘We could have skipped the queue, though?’

‘But then I wouldn’t have got to keep you warm.’ His hand brands the small of my back as he guides me into the gloomy smoke.

We ditch our jackets and head onto the dance floor. The bass reverberates through me as we watch the live band, the whole crowd writhing to the music.

Nate circles his arms around me from behind, his hand roaming across my stomach, his lips back on my neck, and we sway to the rhythm.

The band breaks into an old classic. ‘I love this one,’ we shout at the same time and then laugh, bouncing around like we’re teenagers again.

The band plays a few more old covers and we dance along, enjoying the vibe of the night and each other’s company.

When they take a break, a DJ starts playing some thrash metal.

Nate pulls me to the side. ‘Shall we grab a drink?’ He has to shout over the music.

‘Sounds good.’

We head to the bar and immediately a tall guy with a beard reaches over the bar, engulfing Nate.

‘Damn, where have you been?’ He slaps Nate on the back in a guy hug.

Both faces split into huge grins.

‘What’s it gonna be? Shots?’ Tall and bearded looks hopeful.

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