Call It What You Want(49)

The music shifts into a new song, but Rob shows no intention of wanting to stop. His hand brushes the line of my jaw. My shoulder. Falls on my waist. Stays there.

Another song. More people. Closer. The living room is a pulsing wave of bodies. The beat controls my heart. His body brushes mine as we move.

Then he’s against me. His hand brushes my hair back, and his lips drift along my neck. A gasp escapes my throat. I might catch on fire right here.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and just for me. “Can we get off the dance floor?”

I nod, unable to speak. He tows me through the people, toward a darkened hallway. Suddenly, we’re away from the press of people, and the music softens. My heart rockets along in my chest, and my whole body feels like a live wire. I don’t know where he’s taking me, and right now, I don’t care.

Every door along this corridor is closed, leaving us in near pitch-darkness. Rob stops at the end, in front of a set of double doors.

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” he says. “Connor showed up, and I didn’t … I didn’t want something to happen.”

My brain needs a few moments to process those words. They don’t compute.

That was all a diversion? My breath comes quick and panicked, and I force myself to calm down. I feel so foolish. I was letting myself get carried away for no reason. Rob’s not interested in me. He’s trying to stay hidden until we can get out of here.

I wish I had the second half of my beer. I feel about ready to cry.

“Hey,” says Rob. He moves closer. It’s darker in the hallway than it was in the living room, so it’s easy to dodge his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just—” I have to sniff. Damn it. “Just out of breath.”

He’s even closer somehow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Maegan.” He breathes my name like a promise.

I can’t say anything. I want to be bold and brassy and confident like Samantha, but I’m not. I’m honest and open and I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I fix my eyes on the collar of his shirt and feel my cheeks burn as I say, “I’m an idiot. I got—I got carried away.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t understand.”

I lift my eyes to meet his. “I forgot you were using me as a cloak so no one saw you.”

“Is that what you think?”

“You said you needed to get away from Connor.”

“I wanted to get away from Connor.” His hand lands on my waist, warm and sure. The other finds my face, and his thumb strokes across my cheekbone. “Because I didn’t want to be interrupted.”

Oh.

And before I can fully process that, his hand slides into my hair and he presses his lips to mine.

Rob kisses like everything else he does: slow and deliberate and full of confidence. No fumbling, just the warm addictive pull of his mouth. When his tongue brushes mine, there’s an unspoken question, and I answer by fisting a hand in his shirt and pulling him against me. A low sound escapes his throat, and my back finds the wall. I can’t stop touching him. My fingers trace the line of his jaw, the slope of his neck, the smooth skin of his collarbone before it disappears under his shirt.

His hands are equally invested in me, a strong weight at my waist, sliding under the edge of my shirt. The feel of his palms against the bare skin of my lower back pulls a gasp from my lips, and Rob draws back half an inch.

“Good?” he whispers.

I draw a shaking breath. “Very good. Don’t stop.” But I grab the collar of his shirt and say the words so fast they all run together. Verygooddontstop.

Rob smiles and obliges.

My shirt slides higher as he gets more daring, his thumb skirting across my abdomen to light me with warmth while making me shiver. He’s kissing my neck now, whispering my name in a way I’ll be replaying over and over again later. One hand shifts lower, tracing the edge of the skin beneath the waistband of my jeans. I’m all but panting against the wall, and I’m glad it’s here to hold me up. I’m a little dizzy and a little dissociated, like I’ve stepped outside this moment and I can’t believe it’s happening. Then his fingers find the back strap of my bra and stroke beneath.

“Rob,” I whisper. “Rob.”

His hand slides free. His eyes are dark and heavy and fixed on mine. “Too much?”

Not enough. The music from the party seems louder suddenly, and I’m very aware someone could walk down this way any time. “No, just … we’re in a hallway.”

He smiles, his eyes questioning. “Do you want to not be in a hallway?”

I nod rapidly, and his smile turns into a wolfish grin. He takes my hand and turns for the double doors. A pin-code type lock mechanism sits over the doorknob. I expect him to turn for one of the other doors, but Rob starts punching numbers, and the lock gives immediately.

I hesitate. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“I pretty much grew up here. Come on.”

I expected a bedroom, possibly a master suite, but the doors lead to a dim hallway beyond, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Another set of double doors are at the other end. I can see out to the side of the yard on one side, and the torch-lit pool to the other. The door swings closed behind us, and the lock clicks into place. The sounds of the party are gone, and we’re trapped in a silent fishbowl of windows.