A Taste of Utopia (5 page)

He dips his head to my ear and asks, “May I join you for this dance?” His voice is loud, but deep and husky, sending another wave of energy that reaches down to my marrow.

I open my mouth to answer. His eyes drop to my lips. He swallows which causes his Adam’s apple to move in an erotic way. I picture my tongue running over it and dampness floods my panties. What’s wrong with me? My body’s reaction is unprecedented. Well, in my defense, the man before me is more like one of those Greek gods than an actual human.

The already heated temperature of the room rises to a suffocating level. I want to say something, but manage only to produce an ungraceful sound. Thank God for small favors. I’m sure the loud music muffled it and saved me from dying of embarrassment.

I give up on producing speech and eagerly bob my head in agreement. Maybe I seem a little too eager because he chuckles before moving his other hand and planting it on my hip.

I swoon. My legs tremble, threatening to give out.

He must sense the pathetic state my body is in. With a firm tug, he pulls me closer to him and threads a muscular thigh between my legs. Whoa! Is this too close too soon? Ah, who am I kidding? He feels good, and I have no intention of stopping.

My body flushes against his and we start what is certainly the most erotic dance of my life.

If I thought I was a good dancer, I have finally found my match. Mr. Adonis, to my delight, is exceptional.

Even though I don’t even know his name, we dance with the intimacy of lovers. And the feelings! It’s as if we’ve known each other before, maybe in another life.

A siren blares in the back of my mind as it fiercely tries to bring me back to my rational self. Vainly reminding me that this is way out of bounds. I blissfully ignore it.

We continue the provocative dance.

This stranger enthralls me. His body, his stare, and the way his hands possessively hold my waist, it’s all like a concoction of a strong hallucinogen. At this moment, I have no desire to be cautious or sober.

My body moves with reckless abandonment, throbbing to the commanding beat of the drums. The music, the lights, and his radiant heat all serve to transport me to an alternate world composed only of our mingled bodies.

Song after song, we dance, throb, pulse. Our bodies, beaded with sweat, cling to one another. I slide my hand around his neck. He slides his hands over my ass. We grind and grapple shamelessly.

If this were under different circumstances, I would be mortified. I’d never behaved so uninhibitedly toward a guy. Somehow, this stranger unhinges me to the core. Not even my alter ego, Rita, would ever behave this way.

My body floats on a cloud of lust and desire. My hands travel from his neck to his chest to his shoulders. I writhe and twist with the beat of the music. All my senses are hyper-aware of his proximity.

I lose track of time. We could have been dancing for years, or hours. I don’t have the slightest idea. I do know, however, that the instant lust and chemistry we initially had quickly shifts to something strangely deeper. It’s like returning home after a long journey. I shake my head, questioning my sanity but immediately discard the concern. We’re just dancing for crying out loud. People do this all the freaking time. No overthinking allowed.

I decide to focus on the here and now.

His hands, flat and warm over my bare back send flames blazing across my skin. I unconsciously hook my arms around his neck and press my bra-less breasts against the vast expanse of his chest. I’m apparently granting him a green light to any advances.

He moves his hands under my arms, his fingers grazing lightly against the side swell of my breasts.

I gasp for air. My tummy muscles clench as my hands fist his hair. I glance up, offering my lips.

The tip of his tongue glides across his lips, but he doesn’t kiss me.

I could die of disappointment.

His hands return to my hips. His fingers dig into my skin and with a firm pull and a sudden thrust, his obscene erection presses against my lower abdomen. The pressure is so immediate and perfect that I feel my legs tremble, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

I must admit, this is the closest to an orgasm I have ever come in the arms of a man. And I want more. As bright as the sun on a cloudless day, the awareness that I want this man—this stranger, hits me.

I barely recognize myself. And I don’t care.

With my body singing with desire, time passes. I’m unsure of how long it has been, but all too soon Mr. Adonis leans in and asks, “You want to get something to drink?”

My descent is fast and violent.

I blink my eyes, realizing where I am. Dang. Where’s Chloe? I look around and see her parked on a barstool, talking to Roberto. She knows the bartender from when she used to live in the hotel.

I bite my lip, momentarily unsure of what to do. But I brush the uncertainty aside and nod.

He clasps my hand and pulls me toward the door, only stopping to order some drinks from a waitress.

He releases my hand and pushes the patio door open. The cool night breeze touches my warm cheeks, sending a shiver through my hyper-aware body.

With a hand on the small of my back, he guides me to a small gazebo.

A cascade of golden lights cast a dim glow on plush chairs. I’m uncertain if I should sit or not. A feeling of ineptitude reminds me of my inexperience in the dating department. Not to mention that under the golden light, his face gleams with astonishing beauty. I’m way out of my league here.

“You must forgive my rudeness.” He flashes his perfect teeth. His voice is deep and confident. “The noise inside kept me from introducing myself.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Seth Phoenix.”

“Hi,” I say. Lame, lame response.

He raises a perfect brow, and a glint of amusement fills his eyes.

“Oh. Uh.” Geez, what’s with me? I’m on the shy side, but I pride myself of having my wits about me—most of the time. “Sorry, I mean.” My cheeks burn. I’m certain my face is bright red, only deepening my embarrassment. “I’m—”

“Lottie?” Chloe’s voice snaps me out of my stupor and rescues me from continuing my babbling.

I turn to see Chloe as she sashays our way.

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” she says with a note of mischief in her voice. She comes to a halt and looks at us with expectant eyes.

She clears her throat and nods slightly toward Seth.

“Uhm . . . Yes . . . Sorry. Um, this is Seth. Seth this is Chloe.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says, offering her hand.

“Likewise,” he says, displaying another killer smile.

“I’m going up to my room.” She miserably pretends to stifle a yawn. “But before I go.” She leans over, pushes a square plastic card in my hand, and says into my ear, “This is your third gift. Stardust Suite.” She plants a kiss on my face and adds a, “Happy birthday.”

Before I have the chance to say something, she saunters away, saying over her shoulder, “Have a good time, kids.”

Panicking a little, I turn to Seth and hastily say, “Excuse me a moment.”

I rush after Chloe, reaching her when she’s about to open the door and head inside the club. “Wait. Chloe, hold on.”

She turns to face me. “What? What’s wrong? You didn’t like him?” she questions, confused.

“No. I mean yes!” I try to organize my jumbled thoughts. I glance back at him and see the waitress placing drinks on the table. “It’s . . . Well, this goes against the rules. I just met him and stuff.”

“C’ mon, Lottie. Be a little more spontaneous. Besides, I checked on him. It’s not like he’s a psycho or something. Roberto knows him.”

“Oh.” That settles all my worries. Especially as to why in the hell a hot guy like him is talking to a girl like me in the first place.

“Don’t.” Chloe’s voice is gentle, but firm. “Stop overthinking things. It’s time we enjoy life too, Lottie. Like the other girls our age. I call it: The Emancipation of Charlotte and Chloe.” She smiles. “Go back to your date. That waitress is all but rubbing her silicones on him.” She places her hand on the door handle and says, “And remember: no rules is our new rule.”

I sigh in resignation. Truth be told, the thought of spending time with Seth
is
quite thrilling.

I RETURN TO THE
gazebo just in time to overhear part of the conversation between Seth and the waitress.

“It’s been a while,” the waitress says in a sugary voice that has my stomach churning. Obviously they know each other.

“Yeah, busy, traveling a lot,” he responds charmingly, but somehow without the typical haze of lust that sort of women evokes.

I notice the moment he senses my presence. His face turns to me, and I swear it transforms as if the entire world just faded away, and only I remain.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, making my body clench. No exaggeration, his smile is that breathtaking.

I offer one back, vaguely noticing the waitress murmuring something as she disappears toward the door of the club.

He offers me a cosmopolitan. “Here, hope this is okay.”

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” I take a long drink, almost emptying it.

He grins. “So, Lottie. Is it?”

“Charlotte. But I go by Lottie.”

“Free man.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your name. The meaning.”

“Yes, I know. But how do you know?”

“Promise not to judge?” he asks, sipping from his drink.

“Yes.” I nod.

“I have a fetish for names.”

“So every time you’re introduced to someone you just produce the meaning to their name? Amazing.” I swallow the remainder of my cosmopolitan.

“Just if I want to make an impression on that person.”

I swallow loudly, almost choking on the drink.

“Oh,” I finally bring myself to respond.
Wow, Lottie, way to make a fool of yourself.
And to think I’m going to law school. Some attorney I’ll make.

Again I vaguely notice when the waitress places new drinks to the table and discretely leaves.

“Here.” He collects my empty cup and puts it on the table. “We
must
dance to this song.”

And so we develop a deliciously tortuous routine for the next hour. Drink, dance, repeat.

To my disappointment, he has yet to kiss me. I mean, our dance isn’t innocent, and there’s nothing naïve about the way I rub against his erection when he gropes my ass. But all tease with no actual kiss.

Although I want just to stay under the gazebo dancing with him, my feet start to throb in complaint to the hours of abuse.

He must have read my thoughts because he says next, “Tired?”

“My feet are killing me,” I reply and giggle when I realize I’m slurring.

“You’re adorable,” he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ears. “Do you mind if I accompany you back to your hotel?” he asks in a heated voice.

“I’m staying here at the Constellation.”

I might be inexperienced with this type of encounter and the many cosmopolitans I’ve drank impairs my judgment significantly, but I can almost swear he wants more than to just “accompany me to my room.” I bite my lip, a frenzy of nervous energy reverberating through my body.

His eyes zoom in on my mouth, and his bright blue eyes darken under my gaze. He reaches up, his thumb roughly presses on my chin, pulling the skin to release my lip from under my teeth. “Don’t,” he growls out with a choked hiss.

“What?” I ask, confused but so turned on by the dark desire flashing under his heavy lids.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you all night.”

“And . . .” I swallow. “Why haven’t you?”

“Oh, fuck it all to hell.”

One of his hand fists my hair, the other slides behind my back crushing my body to his as his mouth captures mine. If I believed I was drunk before, at this moment, my body levitates. That’s a poor way to describe the state of things, but it’s the only coherent thought my mind can produce.

His tongue enters my mouth with skill and seduction. It touches mine with intimacy, and warmth, and control, and demand. Stars collide and shatter into millions of blazing dots behind my closed lids.

His breath turns harsh. His hands travel over my body, up my shoulders, down to the dip in the back of my dress. His fist tightens its hold on my hair, sending a sweet ache down my spine. His mouth devours me with hunger and passion.

My lungs burn, begging for air, but it would be too much to breathe something as simplistic as oxygen when I have his mouth over mine. His tantalizing taste is the only thing I want.

My arms, hooked around his neck, tighten their hold. I want to fuse our bodies together. Turn us into an eternal marble statue.

My brain knows it’s too soon—way too early, even illogical, to conjure such a thought. But I’m aware that this kiss has just sucked half my soul from my being into his. And from this moment on, I will only be whole when we are united.

Seth

WHEN MY LIPS
seize hers, need slams into my body. Holy fuck. This is just a kiss. But what a kiss.

That’s what magic is made of.

That’s what utopia tastes like.