Chapter 3 The Encounter
The strobes of the lights danced in a dizzying pattern across the ceiling as the club patrons cheered and yelled in excitement over their drinks.
I felt the music thrumming through my chest, settling somewhere deep in my ribcage, and I absolutely loved it.
I grabbed Marco's arm, squeezing tight. "I love you," I shouted over the noise, practically bouncing on my toes. "This is the best pre-wedding gift ever!"
Marco chuckled, the sound barely audible over the pounding electronic beat. "You're overexaggerating," he said, but there was warmth in his eyes.
A waiter walked past, a tray balanced perfectly on his hand. I didn’t hesitate as I plucked a shot of tequila from the tray and threw it back in one smooth motion, the burn sliding down my throat.
Marco gave me a look, one eyebrow raised.
"For extra courage," I explained, setting the glass down on a nearby table with perhaps a bit too much force.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Wait here. I'll get us proper drinks." And then he was swallowed by the crowd, leaving me standing there.
This was it. For the first time in my life, I was at a club without the usual stone-faced guards hovering around me.
I shrugged off my jacket, tying it around my waist like a makeshift belt, the strapless bodycon gown hugging my curves like a second skin. With a defiant flick, I yanked the ponytail holder from my hair, letting auburn waves cascade down my back.
"Let's go," I whispered to myself, and plunged into the crowd.
The dance floor was a sea of bodies moving in rhythm. I let myself be carried by it, laughing and feeling the music in my bones when suddenly I collided with something solid.
I stumbled backward, my heels betraying me on the slick floor, and I was certain I was about to go down hard when strong hands caught my waist.
"Easy," a voice said in Italian, the word rough like gravel but somehow smooth at the same time.
My body went rigid. It was just one word, but there was something about the timbre of it that made every nerve ending in my body stand at attention.
I opened my eyes, and found myself staring up at a face that made my brain momentarily malfunction.
"Cazzo," I breathed. Because I hadn’t seen someone this devastatingly attractive since Marco, and this man made Marco look like he's competing for second place.
Piercing dark eyes met mine from a chiseled face and high cheekbones shadowed with a faint stubble, full lips curved in a smirk, and tousled black hair. There was a scar cutting through one eyebrow that made him look dangerous but it only made my heart stutter.
The stranger planted me firmly on my feet, his touch lingering a beat too long on my arms. "Be careful, bella.” His accent wrapped around the words like velvet, and a filthy thought flashed through my mind.
Those hands pinning me down, that voice growling commands as he drove into me.
But I played it cool, or tried to. "It's fine," I said quickly. "I should be the one apologizing."
"No worries." He was already moving to step around me.
My body moved before my brain could authorize it, stepping directly into his path. The awkward laugh that escaped me sounded foreign to my own ears. "Sorry, I-" I tried to move out of his way, he mirrored my movement.
We did an awkward dance, left then right, blocking each other like characters in a romantic comedy I would normally mock.
I laughed again, breathless. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."
His hands were suddenly on my waist again, and he leaned close. I could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, something dark and expensive that made my head swim.
"I'll go left," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "You go right."
My brain short-circuited, a rush of arousal flooding my veins, my belly tingling with sudden need. I whimpered softly, the sound escaping before me could stop it, and I felt him go still.
When I dared to look up at him, something in his expression had changed. His eyes have darkened, and there was a tension in his jaw that wasn't there before.
He started to release me, his hands sliding away from my waist, and I knew with absolute certainty that if I let him walk away now, I would regret it for the rest of my life.
The thought that flashed through my mind was forbidden, utterly unlike me. But my hand is already moving, fingers wrapping around his wrist before I could second-guess myself.
"I have a better plan," I said, and my voice came out huskier than intended. "Dance with me."
The words hung in the air between us. My mind is screaming at me and embarrassment flooded my cheeks with heat. I’ve never been this forward before, and for a heart-stopping moment, I was certain he was going to say no.
Instead, he pulled me closer. “Lead the way, bella.”
The music shifted to a sultry beat, and his hands slid to my hips, guiding me as I pressed back against him, my ass grinding into the growing bulge in his pants.
Heat built between us, my gown riding up slightly with each sway, exposing more of my thighs. My breath came in short gasps, and his thigh slipped between my legs to nudge against my core, sending sparks through her clit.
Sweat beaded on my skin, the bodycon fabric sticking to her curves, my nipples hardening against the tight material.
He spun me to face him, one hand splaying across my lower back, pulling me close enough that I felt every inch of his hard body. Our hips rolled in unison, my pussy aching as his erection rubbed against me through our clothes, the friction teasing me toward madness.
“What's your name?” He asked, his lips brushing my ear.
“Arya.” breathed, the word a moan.
He repeated it. “Arya,” his tongue caressing the syllables, and I nearly melted.
Our faces were inches apart, our breaths mingling and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. I tilted my face up, lips parting slightly, and-
Someone clapped him on the shoulder, shattering the moment like glass.
I wanted to scream. I watched as he turned, his jaw tightening with visible frustration as he exchanged rapid Italian with whoever had interrupted us.
His hand was still on my waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of my dress, and I could feel the tension radiating through him.
He looked back at me, and something in his expression made my stomach flip. There was regret there, and something darker that I couldn’t quite name.
He took my hand, raising it to his lips.
"Mi dispiace, dolcezza," he murmured against my knuckles. I'm sorry, my sweet. "But I have to leave."
I nodded because what else could I do? He pressed one more kiss to my hand and then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd and whoever came to claim him.
I stood there, alone in the middle of the dance floor with my hand still tingling where his lips touched my skin. Around me, the crowd continues to pulse and move, completely unaware that my entire world just tilted on its axis.
I brought my hand to my chest, feeling my heart racing beneath my palm, and wondering what the hell just happened.