Page 6 of His Son's Brid
"Oh shit," Chloe breathes. "Oh shit, he's coming over here."
"What do I do?" My voice comes out higher than normal. My nipples are so hard they hurt. The throbbing between my legs is distracting, demanding, making it hard to think.
"You breathe," Tiana says. "And you smile. And you see what happens."
But he doesn't come over. He stops at the edge of the dance floor, hands in his pockets, and just... looks at me. Like he's waiting for something. Like this is my decision, my choice, and he's going to respect whatever I pick.
Come here. Don't come here. Your call.
The bucket list burns in my mind. Number seven. The one thing I haven't been able to check off, not because I haven't tried, but because I've never found someone who made me want to try hard enough.
Willingly lose my virginity to someone I actually choose.
I don't know him. Don't know if he's good or bad or dangerous or safe. But standing here, feeling his eyes on me like a physical touch, feeling my body respond in ways I didn't know it could, I know one thing for sure:
I want him.
Maybe that's enough.
"I'm going to regret this," I say.
"Probably," Chloe agrees, grinning.
I stand, smooth down my dress, and take one step toward him.
He smiles.
It's not a nice smile. There’s nothing nice about that smile.
It's the kind of smile that promises trouble, the kind that says he knows exactly what I'm thinking and he's thinking it too. My pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat, my wrists, between my legs where I'm so wet I'm surprised it's not running down my thighs.
I take another step.
Then someone grabs his arm—a man in a dark suit, urgent, saying something I can't hear over the music. The silver-haired man's expression changes completely, becomes something colder, harder. He glances at me one more time, and I see it in his eyes:
Not now. Not yet.
How do I know this? Even if I ask myself. I don’t freaking know. The margarita must be getting to me.
He turns, follows the other man back toward the VIP section, and just like that, the moment shatters.
I stand there on the edge of the dance floor, dress clinging to my suddenly cold skin, nipples still hard, underwear still soaked, watching him disappear into a private room. The door closes. He doesn't look back.
"What the hell was that?" Chloe appears at my elbow.
"I have no idea."
But I'm shaking. Actually shaking, like my body can't process what just happened—or didn't happen. It's been five minutes. Less. We didn't even speak. But I feel like something fundamental just shifted in my universe, and I don't know if I'm terrified or exhilarated.
Maybe both.
"Come on," Tiana says gently, taking my arm. "Let's get out of here."
I let them lead me toward the exit, but I can't stop looking back at that closed door. Can't stop wondering who he is, why he looked at me like that, if I'll ever see him again. Can't stop feeling the wetness between my legs, the proof that my body knows something my brain hasn't caught up to yet.
I'm not broken.
I just needed the right man to prove it.
