Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(66)

The DJ dropped the beat and slunk into a bachata rhythm and some people we knew whooped and cheered, knowing this was our favorite. Especially because Armand was so freaking gorgeous and his hips were a continuous writhing, fluid, pulsing attraction all on their own. The bachata, to me was the sexiest Latin dance of all, maybe even over the tango. Armand and I goofed it up and over-performed for the bystanders, convincing pretty much everyone who didn't know us we'd be doing this naked later that night.

Balanced astride Armand's thigh, I let him arch me backward. I hung loose with his arm under my back even as our hips moved, my hair almost grazing the ground. He ran his hand from my throat down my front, making people hoot and whistle. My view of the club was upside down and there was a brief millisecond gap in the crowd. I swear I thought . . . my insides went into free-fall, and I lurched upward even as Armand pulled me back. He looked at me in concern, then brought his face to my ear. "What happened?" He had to almost shout in my ear.

"Trystan?" I yelled. "Behind me?"

Armand looked over my shoulder, his eyes scanning. Then he shook his head.

Weird. But our flow was compromised. I mimed I needed water, telling him he should stay. He wouldn't have a problem finding a new partner. He nodded and handed me my phone so we could find each other easily.

I wove through the people, dodging a few handsy ones who thought I might be free for a dance, and headed for the end of the bar. Out of the crowd, I appreciated the movement of air against my hot damp skin.

I managed to squeeze between two couples and nodded to the nearest bartender to let him know I was waiting as he mixed some drinks, then I looked past him and my heart stopped.

Trystan was at the opposite end of the bar, his sharp gray gaze skewering me from twenty feet away.

I took a surprised breath, but it caught in my chest.

He was leaning forward, resting his forearms on the bar, a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand. His white shirt, poking out of the collar of his black jacket, was stark against his skin.

Oh my God, he was so damn gorgeous. Memories of his voice and the sound of his breathing as he brought me to orgasm last night streaked through my head, and my sweaty body suddenly felt too sensitive in my dress. My skin prickled. Why didn't I want to see him again? For the life of me I couldn't remember why I was avoiding him.

Then the bartender was in front of me. I shook my head to catch up with my new view and ordered water. When Trystan was in eyesight again, I saw him take a sip of his drink and then pick his phone up from the bar in front of him and type something. Then he laid it down just as my water appeared. He'd made no move to come over to where I stood, and I knew I wasn't going to go to him.

The phone in my hand vibrated. And like a perfectly trained pet, my stomach swooped. I wondered if my body was now permanently conditioned to react to phone notifications. My embarrassed feeling from waking up this morning after what we'd done had apparently evaporated.

I drank thirstily, delaying the gratification of looking to see if it was him texting me.

Trystan narrowed his eyes.

I grinned, because I couldn't help it, then looked at my phone.

Suit Monkey: You are absolutely stunning.

I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, trying to play it cool, even though I felt like grinning like an idiot. I was a sweaty mess, my hair sticking to the back of my neck, probably curling at my temples, my breathing still exerted, my skin hot. He had a funny idea of stunning.

You stalking me?

Suit Monkey: Yes.

He lifted a shoulder in a gesture of helplessness. He typed something else into his phone.

Suit Monkey: It's a good thing I know Armand is gay.

I looked up at Trystan with an eyebrow cocked and wondered how long he'd been watching us and if he'd liked what he saw. I'd seen others dancing like us. I knew it was hot. I texted back as Trystan picked up his drink and took a sip.

Armand is gay?

Trystan froze mid swallow, or maybe his throat suddenly closed, because from where I was standing, he choked. A big swarthy man next to him, wearing a tank and a bandana saw what happened and gave Trystan a massive thump between the shoulder blades, causing him to lurch forward.

I slapped a hand across my mouth in alarm, even as I lost control of the giggle that burst out of me.

OMG. Are you okay? Lol

Trystan thanked the guy next to him and then looked at me, smiling and shaking his head, his eyes watering. I was still laughing, but I laid a hand to my chest indicating I was relieved he was all right. Even while he laughed, semi-embarrassed at himself, his eyes became serious.

Suit Monkey: You and Armand?

Never. We're friends.

Suit Monkey: Ever?

No.

Suit Monkey: Almost?

I rolled my eyes. No!

Suit Monkey: Impossible. Watching you dance was the hottest thing I've ever seen. That's why I had to find a spot against the bar. Apart from the fact I can barely stand, I thought my hard-on might get me arrested.

It was hard not to imagine Trystan's erection, and my mind flew back to last night and knowing he was bringing himself to relief as he listened to me. God, just thinking about it for a second had me so turned on I was aching.

I licked my lips.

Suit Monkey: Don't lick your lips. I won't be able to walk.

I laughed.

Sorry. I was imagining your erection.

Trystan dropped his head down on the bar, earning a concerned look from his previous savior, who shook his head in despair.