Читать книгу I See London - Chanel Cleeton, Chanel Cleeton - Страница 9

I was drunk. Really, really drunk. I’d never been drunk before, but I still recognized it when I saw it.

And I was a hot mess.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re swaying.”

I struggled to focus on Mya. Her dress sparkled back at me. “I’m great.” At least that’s what I meant to say. The words came out a bit jumbled as I tripped over my tongue.

“I can’t find a waitress. Sit down and I’ll get you water from the bar.”

I sank down on one of the small leather stools, grateful for the break on my feet, tugging on the hem of my dress in a desperate attempt to pull it down.

Not so much.

We’d been here for a couple hours now and the group had scattered, leaving me alone in a sea of drunken dancers and couples practically having sex in public. This place was a couple steps away from an orgy.

“Nice dress.”

Speak of the devil…

Samir appeared seemingly out of thin air, sinking down next to me at the table. I groaned. He was hard enough to handle when I was sober. I looked straight ahead, ignoring him. At least I tried to. He shifted and our legs brushed against each other. For a moment neither one of us spoke. Suddenly the room started to sway again.

“Shit.”

Samir studied me for a moment. “Too much to drink?”

I uncrossed my legs, struggling to stand. It was just the two of us at the table. Last place I wanted to be. He reached out a hand to steady me. I batted it away. “Leave me alone.”

His smile widened. “You’re a little fiery when you drink.”

I glared at him. “Go away.”

“It’s my table,” he countered smoothly.

“Fine. Then I’ll go away.” I turned –and he snagged my wrist.

“Come dance with me.”

“I don’t feel like dancing.”

“You’re already swaying, you’re halfway there,” he teased.

“Not funny.”

“You smiled a bit,” he countered.

God, he had a beautiful mouth.

“I did not.”

“Yeah, you did. See, right there, that’s a smile.” His finger reached out, brushing against my lips as if to prove his point. He pressed down gently, tracing the shape of my bottom lip. His eyes darkened.

I wanted to lick his finger, to draw it into my mouth, to suck on it. I jerked back. Warmth flooded me. All over.

What the hell was wrong with me?

“It’s not a smile.”

“If you say so.” He winked.

My thoughts were a muddled, jumbled mess, confusion warring with desire. How could he hit on his girlfriend’s roommate? Was he an idiot? Although if I were Fleur, I would have been all over Samir in a club like this.

Literally as well as figuratively.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a giant pain in the ass?” I blurted out.

“All the time. Come on.” Samir held out his hand.

I swayed forward, teetering on the tiny heels. “Crap.” I grabbed Samir’s hand, more for balance than anything else.

“Dance with me.”

I lifted my chin a notch, meeting his gaze. I felt as though we were playing chess and he was five steps ahead of me. I could blame the alcohol but he was definitely a little drunk too. I still couldn’t keep up with him.

“Dance with me,” he repeated. His dark eyes sparked with amusement—and something else, something infinitely more dangerous. For a moment everything seemed to stand still. We stared at each other, our hands still joined. His palm moved over mine, his fingers curving, linking with mine.

My heart pounded furiously in my chest. I didn’t trust my voice; I merely nodded, letting him have his way. He wasn’t the kind of guy you said no to. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.

Samir made a gap in the crowd, pulling me along with him. A techno song blared from the speakers. He began moving to the music, surprisingly graceful. I struggled to follow his lead. The boy had moves. It wasn’t hard to imagine other places he could put those moves to good use.

“You can dance.”

Samir laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.” He leaned in closer to me, his lips brushing against my ear, his arm wrapping around my waist to pull me closer to his body. “My mother used to make me take dance lessons.”

I giggled despite myself. “I can’t see that at all.”

“I was pretty good.” He glanced down at me. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His hand traveled downward, hovering just at the small of my back. Through the dress’s thin material the heat of his skin pressed against me. His hand stayed there for a moment, its presence both reassuring and discomfiting. He began stroking my lower back, his movements slow and lazy, his fingers tracing patterns on my body. Each touch lit a fire within me.

The beat changed to a hip-hop song, couples moving closer together. I let Samir pull me toward him, enjoying myself too much to stop. His body was lean, but judging by the hard muscles pressing against me, he knew what to do with it. He moved against me, and suddenly everything stilled again.

His muscles weren’t the only part of him that was hard—

My body rocked against his, relishing the feel of his body pressed against mine. His hand slipped just an inch lower, hovering well below the small of my back. I opened my mouth to protest—

His lips moved toward my ear, rubbing against the curve and down to my earlobe. His teeth grazed the lobe with a little nip. I shivered. Those lips roamed down, tracing the curve of my jaw. He pressed soft kisses there, setting off a whole new wave of emotions within me. I was hot and achy all over, his face buried in the curve of my neck, his lips doing all sorts of naughty things to me.

I’d never done anything like this before, never lost control like this. I was logical, cautious when it counted. This was something else entirely.

Samir’s lips drifted to my cheek. I froze, no longer dancing, hovering on the brink of what would happen next. We stood there together, our bodies pressed against each other, unmoving.

Somehow I knew he was going to kiss me. I don’t know how I knew it was coming, but some instinct in me just knew. I blamed the champagne for the fact that I didn’t move away. Or maybe it was just my own curiosity. Or maybe it was the desire I saw reflected in his eyes.

Samir’s lips brushed against mine, soft at first. Teasing. Then more insistent, his tongue brushing against mine, licking into my mouth, bolder now, his mouth opening wider, the kiss deepening. It wasn’t anything like I expected for my first kiss. It was hot and reckless and completely unexpected. It only took me a beat to catch up before my mouth moved against his. I had no idea what to do, if I was even doing it right, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. Instead I just felt, giving myself over to his lips, his hands, his body. My needs.

His body still pressing against me, he maneuvered me through the crowd, his hands in my hair, his lips devouring mine. We bumped into people, neither one of us bothering to break apart. He sucked on my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth, giving me soft little bites, following the motion with the soothing sweep of his tongue.

I moaned against his mouth. I wanted more. More kissing, more touching. More.

This was unfuckingbelievable.

The wall pressed against my back. My eyes fluttered open. Samir had guided me into a dark corner, just off the dance floor. His body blocked out most of the crowd, his lips made the rest of the club disappear. His hands were everywhere, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Parts of my body I never knew could be sensitive tingled—the curve of my neck, my collarbone, the little spot behind my earlobe. I had no idea what I was doing but somewhere along the way, between the dancing and this, I’d learned the moves. He was good. Very, very good. And I never wanted him to stop.

His hands played with the neckline of my dress, his fingers trailing along my skin, dipping underneath the fabric. They hovered dangerously close to my breast.

And then suddenly he wasn’t touching me at all.

Samir broke apart from the kiss first. My eyes widened, staring at him in breathless anticipation, frustration flooding my body. My gaze drifted to a point just over his shoulder. An enormous guy dressed in a black T-shirt stood in front of us, scowling, his beefy arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked like a bouncer. I didn’t hear what Samir said to the guy, but money changed hands. The bouncer disappeared.

Samir turned back to me, his expression hooded, those eyes that just minutes ago were drunk with lust, now unreadable. I stared at Samir; pretty sure my expression nearly mirrored his. He stared back at me, something that might have been shock flashing across his face. It was there for only an instant before his cocky smile slipped back into place.

“Sorry. Got carried away.”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. Music pumped through the club. The pounding sound mimicked the mad thumping in my heart. A girl bumped into me. I stumbled forward. Samir reached out, catching me. “Want to go sit down?”

I nodded, my brain still running in circles, my body a mass of confusion. As soon as he pulled away from me it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me. What had I just done—what had I nearly let him do—in public? The worst part? As horrified as I was that we’d even started making out, part of me was just as upset we’d stopped.

What the fuck?

Samir walked me back to the table, his arm around me keeping me from stumbling. Just that touch was enough to send another wave of desire running through me. I tried not to lean into the curve of his body.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” I blurted out, struggling to not freak out. I was the new girl. The last thing I needed was for Fleur to hate me more than she already did.

Making out with her boyfriend was likely a hanging offense.

“Promise,” I repeated, my tone desperate.

For a second something flickered in Samir’s eyes. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. “Sure. Have it your way.” He hesitated for a beat, his gaze running over me. “I’m going to go say hi to some friends at another table.” He placed a swift kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for the dance.” He winked. “And everything else.”

I watched him walk away, my jaw hanging open in shock. I somehow still couldn’t wrap my mind around what had just happened. My first kiss wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’d had it all planned out. I was supposed to go to Harvard, meet the guy at Harvard. He would be my first kiss, the guy I would have sex with for the first time, the guy I would eventually marry. Maybe it sounded naive, but I didn’t care. I had it all planned out. This had definitely not been in my plans.

I ran my fingers over my lips. They felt soft, swollen. My breasts felt sensitive, my nipples tight. My body felt as if it belonged to someone else. No one had ever touched me like that before. I’d never wanted anyone to.

“Where’d you go?”

I jerked my hand away from my lips. Mya stood in front of me, a bottle of water in her hand.

“Bathroom,” I lied. “I just needed to get away from the loud music and everything.”

“I think we’re about ready to go soon. Michael is gathering the group.”

I took the water from her, taking a long swig from the bottle. Mya plopped down next to me on one of the stools.

“Do you know where everyone else is?”

I wasn’t going to fess up to knowing anything about Samir’s whereabouts. “No idea.”

Mya groaned. “Well, I’m leaving in fifteen minutes regardless of who is ready to go. I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me.”

“Same.”

“You ladies had enough for the night?” Michael appeared in front of us.

I nodded, beyond relieved to see him. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”

“Come on, then. We can make our exit. The rest of the group can find their own way home.”

My hand clutched in his, I followed Michael out of the club. Mya trailed behind us, her hand pressed against my back. I turned my head to the right, my gaze drifting across the room to the tables pushed up against the far wall.

I couldn’t help it.

Samir sat at one of the tables, two blonde girls flanking him, his arms wrapped around their lithe bodies. His head jerked up and he met my gaze across the crowded room. Heat flared between us. I tore my gaze away.

So much for my first kiss.