Chapter 16

The music had slowed again, the singer’s voice melting over the crowd like honey. My head rested against Mr. Scott’s chest, the steady beat of his heart thudding beneath the fabric of his shirt. We’d been on the dance floor for what felt like hours, swaying and spinning, glasses of champagne punctuating each song until my body thrummed with heat and the tipsy buzz of alcohol. 

He wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, yes, looser than I’d ever seen him. He was still very much in control of himself. His movements remained sharp, his gaze steady, his smile intoxicating and softening with each look he gave me. 

But me? I was far gone. My head floated, my cheeks burned, and every word seemed to spill out of me with less and less of the careful restraint. I usually carried. My hands clung to him greedily, my fingers brushing his shoulders, his chest, sometimes daring down his arm. Each time he let me, never pushing me away, never looking around as if worried someone might see. He looked at me like he wanted more of it. 

“You’re... so good at this,” I murmured, turning with my back to his face as my ass grinds against his groin while he holds my waist. 

“At dancing?” he asked, voice teasing, low against my ear. 

“At everything,” I confessed, a giggle slipping out. “At being... you.” 

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me. “I’ll take that as a compliment, though I’m not sure how much credit I deserve just for being myself.” 

“Trust me.” I turned to face him, leaning closer, my lips grazing near his jaw as I whispered. “You deserve more than you think.” 

His arm tightened slightly around my waist, and I felt his breath hitch before he steadied it. Song after song blurred together. I lost track of time, lost track of how many times my lips brushed near his ear when I leaned in too close, or how often his hand at my waist lingered just long enough to make my stomach flutter. My body clung to him instinctively, shamelessly, as though I couldn’t bear the thought of him stepping even an inch away. 

Eventually, when the singer began another slow tune, Mr. Scott bent his head close to mine, his lips brushing my temple. “Come with me,” he murmured, the command soft but irresistible. 

My pulse leapt. I nodded before the words could even form. He guided me gently but firmly off the dance floor, his hand never leaving my lower back. The crowd blurred in my vision, my head spinning as much from the alcohol as from the nearness of him. I barely registered where we were headed until we reached the back of the room, near a hallway where restrooms were tucked away. 

A suited man stood near the door, and without a word, Mr. Scott pressed something small and folded it into his palm. The man nodded, understanding immediately, and shifted his stance by the door. 

I blinked, realizing what had just happened. Mr. Scott had made sure no one else would enter. My stomach tightened, anticipation and nerves tangling together. 

Then the door clicked shut behind us. 

The restroom was nothing like the sterile ones in public places. It was lavish, elegant, with marble counters and a wide vanity that stretched beneath golden-framed mirrors. Dim lighting cast everything in a soft glow. 

Before I could speak, Mr. Scott turned to me. His eyes were dark and steady. They were filled with something I couldn’t name as they locked on mine. And then, without hesitation, he lifted me into his arms. 

A small gasp escaped me as my arms flew around his neck. He carried me effortlessly, strong. He set me gently down on the wide vanity counter. The marble was cool against the back of my thighs through the thin fabric of my dress. 

“Scott—” I started, but my voice cracked into a laugh, tipsy and breathless. 

He leaned close, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in but not trapping me. His eyes searched mine, softer than I’d ever seen them, his mouth tugged into that faint half-smile he reserved only for me. 

“You’re drunk,” he murmured. 

“And you’re not drunk enough,” I teased, my fingers already reaching up to toy with the neckline of his shirt. The fabric slid between my fingers, and I tugged it playfully. “Loosen up, Mr. Big Deal.” 

His chuckle was low, vibrating through him as he let me open a few buttons. “Sabrina...” he growled. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.” 

I leaned in closer, my lips almost brushing his ear. “Maybe I do.” 

His breath caught, and I felt his hand press more firmly against the vanity beside me. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. 

“I shouldn’t let you cling to me like this,” he said finally, though his voice was softer. 

“You brought me here. Tipped the man outside so no one comes in,” I leaned in even closer, whispering. My fingers slide from his collar, grazing the line of his throat. “You know you want this... You can’t stop it.” 

He didn’t stop me. Instead, his eyes darkened, his lips parting slightly as he watched me. My tipsy boldness only grew under his gaze. I let my hands wander up into his hair, threading through the dark strands, tugging gently. He leaned into the touch, his breath uneven now. 

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“Good,” I said, giggling as I leaned closer, pressing my forehead against his. “You drive me insane, too.” 

He closed his eyes briefly, as if steadying himself. When he opened them again, they burned into me with a heat that made my stomach flip. 

“You’re too much,” he whispered. 

“And you love it,” I teased, my lips grazing the corner of his mouth. 

His jaw flexed. He leaned closer, so close I could feel his words against my lips when he spoke. “I shouldn’t—” 

I silenced him with my finger against his lips, tipsy, boldness stealing my restraint. “Shh. Just... shut up. We’re here already. Just us.” 

He stared at me for a moment, then his hand slid up, brushing against my hip, tracing slowly up my side until his thumb grazed the bare skin of my arm. My whole body shivered under the touch. 

“Sabrina...” he breathed. 

I clung tighter, pulling him closer with both hands in his hair now. “Say it again.” 

“Sabrina,” he growled, sending heat spiraling through me. 

My laugh broke into a sigh, my lips grazing his jaw as I murmured. “I like the way you say my name.” 

He shifted closer, his nose brushing mine, his breath mingling with mine. “You’re hot, tempting, and nasty when you drink.” 

“And you’re irresistible when you look at me like that.” 

His hand slid around my waist now, drawing me flush against him. My heart pounded wildly, my head spinning not just from the champagne but from the sheer closeness of him. 

I started to speak again, but the words never left my lips. Because before I could finish, he kissed me. It cut off my sentence with the heat of his mouth on mine. My gasp melted into the kiss, my fingers tightening in his hair, my whole body arching closer.