She dips a few fingers into her cleavage, tossing a handkerchief at Trina, which she catches.
“Probably would be a good idea to wipe that look off of your face as well. Your desperation is seeping through your pores.”
Ouch. Even I feel the sting of that one.
I stand still, waiting for a comeback from Trina, but it doesn’t happen. She takes what shreds of dignity she still has left and hightails it towards the hallway where the restrooms lie, the golden tail of her dress dragging as she scurries away.
Elena and I continue dancing as part of the ruse. Mm, this feels good.
“Wow,” I say to her. “You’re a natural.”
“At dancing?”
“No. At making people cry.”
She laughs, bowing her head to cover up a small smile. Her soft blonde hair smells fragrant, like vanilla. She raises her face towards mine again.
“She didn’t cry,” she remarks. “Not yet…” She shrugs absently, moving slowly to the music.
My hands squeeze gently on Elena’s hips, and I realize that we still haven’t stopped dancing…
“Uh huh, Miss Lexington,” I tease. “Nice cover-up… but you get what you give.”
“Oh, you mean karma?” she asks. I nod slowly. “Don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t cry easily…”
“You might be surprised.” My eyes shoot to her lips. “You know… when some women experience intense orgasms… instead of moaning or screaming, they cry… “
She snorts softly. “Cry?”
“Uh huh. Full-blown boo-hoos. Sometimes, the pleasure is just too much, and the tears just overflow. The intensity is just too overwhelming, and their eyes start to water from an overload of sensation.”
Her expression tightens. “Thank you for that interesting and unwelcome lesson, Lukas,” she quips, deadpan. “Like, I said… I am not a crier.”
I shake my head at her response. Goddamn, she’s so stubborn. And I usually can’t fucking stand it, but tonight—tonight feels different…
“I don’t know. I’ve seen some… interesting things happen,” I continue to press. “It seems like one of the rare nights, doesn’t it? Where the unexpected just… takes place…”
I can tell that she’s intrigued. She cocks an ash-blonde eyebrow, causing her blue eyes to twinkle.
“The unexpected? What unexpected stuff? Enlighten me…”
I shrug casually. “Like you… coming over here, getting rid of Trina, dancing with me… That’s all pretty unexpected, wouldn’t you say?”
I tighten my hold on her ever so slightly, using my thumbs to caress the silk at her sides.
Her lips are bright red, as red as her dress. They’re slightly parted and all of a sudden, all I can think about is putting my tongue between them.
The thought makes me grow hard. Irrationally and undeniably hard.
I’m close to Elena, but not close enough for her to feel it.
If I step one millimeter nearer, I’ll be skimming the “v” of her thighs with an erection that could hammer nails.
She starts speaking, and I have to look away from her lips and concentrate back on her eyes. Those amazing, light blue eyes.
“It’s really not unexpected,” she declares. “After what you did earlier, I owed you one. And now… the favor’s returned. Have a good evening, Lukas.”
She extracts herself from my arms, turning away without a backward glance. She walks in the direction of the ladies’ room, and I am confused about what to do next.
Damn.
My cock tells me to follow, but my pride just plants my feet. The latter wins the battle this time, but then again… he always does.
I’ve never been one to chase after a woman. Never had to… until now. Sigh. This is going to be harder than I thought.
I need another drink.
Double or Nothing
“When you see a good move, look for a better one.” - Emanuel Lasker
ELENA
I act as if I’m going to the bathroom in case Lukas follows. When I’m sure that he isn’t, I make a detour, heading for the preparatory kitchen.
Cake. Cake. Cake.
I need some cake. Something to calm me down.
Sweets were always a go-to in our household growing up. My mother always said, “There was no illness that sugar couldn’t cure.” If we hadn’t gone to the dentist regularly, our teeth would’ve rotted right out of our heads.
Luckily, we made it into adulthood with our original bicuspids in tact, but that crazy sweet tooth hasn’t escaped a single one of us.
I need the cake to bring my nerves back to neutral. And I’ve already had enough alcohol to drown a small nation.
I whiz past waiters and trays and chefs with large hats. I scan the countertops, the cabinets until bingo—I hit the fridge. The rush of air is cold and refreshing, and my eyes are gobbling up every square inch of space.
Cake. Cake. Cake. Cake. Ah-ha!
But the cake is far too large, and I wouldn’t be able to sneak it out of here without getting discovered and dropping the large sheet all over the kitchen floor.
Think, Elena. Think.
Oh, yessss. Cupcakes.
They sit on the bottom shelf with champagne and creamy white hues of frosting, topped with decorative and shiny round-shaped sprinkles.
I reach for them like a crack-fiend. I’m no better than Lukas’s coked-out groupie in the ballroom, but I have no choice. I need this.
I grab two cupcakes, pulling them close to my body before closing the fridge completely. I shield them with my arms as I pass the unsuspecting and, frankly, unconcerned wait and kitchen staff.
I stow away with my stolen stash into a separate side-room near the kitchen, where I sink into a white and unused foldout chair with my treasure, ready to eat.
The minute I sink my teeth into the frosting, I feel calm. Mmmffff, I mumble through a mouth full of buttercream. There. That’s better.
Eating the cupcake gives me time to simmer down, time to think. Time to reconsider all of these crazy ass ideas that have been popping into my head.
Like kissing Lukas.
What… the hell… is wrong… with me? My subconscious is screaming at me at this point.
What are you thinking, Elena? You hate this guy. Hated this guy.
Wait… Is this past tense? Or present?
Have I all of a sudden stopped hating this guy? No… that can’t be right, but then…
Why did I want to kiss him? Why do Iwantto kiss him? Present tense.
As in now. Like, right now.
While my lips and teeth are sinking into this soft and succulent cake. Soft… So soft… Like Luke’s lips.
My thoughts meander.
His bottom lip looked divinely supple. I tried not to stare at it, but then I would have had to stare into his eyes, and that would’ve been infinitely more dangerous.
They’re a deep evergreen color… like a forest. They’re framed by lively, dark eyelashes that constantly move as his eyes look me up and down. I feel lost when I look into them: abandoned in an evergreen wilderness from which there is no escape.
I shake my head. I’m talking crazy. I’m drunk.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this drunk. And I’m a mess. Not on the outside, but on the inside. On the outside, I think I’m still passing off as calm and collected.