The Kiss of Rejection Suivre l’histoire

The beat of the drums vibrates through my body.

I move in unison with a hundred others. Jumping up and down, drowning in the music, forgetting the world around me. The white neon light illuminates the stage of the club like lightning. The air is filled with the sweet scent of sugary cocktails most people are holding without noticing that they spill most of it while moving their bodies to the sound of the electric guitar. The lyrics of each song on their lips, their voice strained from the singing.

My eyes close. Everything vanishes into a state of unimportance. Maybe not everything. Someone behind me pulls me closer until my back presses into a firm chest. A strong hand glides from my waist to my stomach. I breathe in and inhale an intoxicating scent of pine and danger. Without realizing it, my hips move side to side. Teasing. I feel the body reacting to mine. I cannot help but lean back until my head rests on the strangers shoulder. We are moving as one. He is the only thing that is holding me up right now. I feel his warm breath on my neck, creating goosebumps that drive me senseless. I feel the fingers of his other hand fluttering around the seam of my indigo dress that created a barely there velvety layer on my flushed skin. The dress that I was earlier concerned about wearing since it barely covered anything. He inched up the fabric. Further and further. Until I could feel the brush of his hand on my leg. Tracing his way up. I was drunk. Drunk on the music. Drunk on his touch, on whatever this is.

I feel him move away and almost lose my balance because of the suddenness. Instantly, I miss the closeness. My eyes shoot open, and I turn around. Brown eyes find mine. Amusement and hunger shining in them. Damn. Whoever this is, he is hot. A little to hot for my liking. A little too convinced of himself, a little too confident. This guy is obviously on the hunt. And I am easy prey.

He must have seen something in my gaze because he steps closer to take my hand and lead me away from the dance floor. I follow him. Unable to think, practically speechless.

This man makes me feel weirdly inexperienced. He looks back at me a couple of times as he leads me through the crowd. His blue linen shirt is unbuttoned just enough. It is clinging to his body, leaving no doubt that he is more than fit. We leave the part of the club that I know. Go deeper to its core. Go past a sign that reads PRIVATE. Nobody stops us as we walk through a dark, barely illuminated hallway. With a scary certainty he opens one of the doors and ushers me into what appears to be an office.

Bookshelves grace the back wall. A huge ebony life-edge table is the centerpiece of the dark room. A leather chair behind it. The scent of forest brushes my senses.

He closes the door and walks past me toward the table. He leans against it as if he is trying to collect himself. Suddenly, he turns around and towers over me. Takes in every inch of my face. I have never felt this seen. His gaze stops at my lips. I cannot stop myself from wetting them. I can see how he follows the movement of my tongue.

“I want you,” his voice is a deep rasp.

I take a sharp breath. I raise my eyebrow trying to figure out who I’m dealing with. “Who are …”

“It’s not important who I am, and I don’t care who you are,” he cuts me off.

Rude.

“I want you,” he repeats more intently.

A soft smile creeps up on my face. I tiptoe. Get as close to him as possible. My body automatically aches into his. I can feel every muscle. I hear his breath quicken, see how his face blushes if only a little bit. I bring my lips close to his. “No,” I whisper. He draws back. Clearly shocked.

Chuckling at his reaction, I cross the distance between us. My lips crash into his. He pulls my face closer to his. My refusal is erased from his mind. Every movement makes him forget. He traces my lips with his tongue. His taste is sweet, breathtaking. Impatiently, I return his kiss, wanting more. He inches me backwards until I feel a hard, cool wall steadying me. He kisses me deeply, passionately. Tracing over my chest, he glides further down, explores the curves of my body. He tips my head back. I release a quiet moan, my eyes flutter shut. His mouth caresses my neck. My hands are in his hair. They glide through his soft, black waves. Pulling it slightly, a muffled sigh escapes him. His hand grabs my ass, pulling me closer to him. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. He buries his face between my breasts in the plunging neckline of my dress that ceases to cover anything that is worth covering. Kisses them, licks them. He watches me enjoy his touch.

He steps back and our eyes meet. His hazelnut brown interlocks with my amber. I see triumph and pride in his. He has got me right where he wants me. I open my legs wider.

“Damn,” he mumbles.

He unbuckles his belt, clearly needing release. I scootch to the edge of the wooden table. My heels hit the stone floor. I walk toward him, straighten my dress. His eyes are on me while he is trying to get that belt off. My hand cradles his cheek. In anticipation of what’s to come he is closing his eyes. My mouth inches closer to him.

“My answer is still no,” I smirk and leave.