THAT NIGHT

Part 1-1

New Year’s Eve

I stared at my reflection, analyzing every angle. My light hazel eyes popped out from the smoky eye makeup, and my face was framed by what I called miracle curls of my coffee-colored hair. Perfectly pink lips with a hint of mischief finished the look.

The silver off-the-shoulder dress with its flared skirt was festive, along with a mix of cute and sexy. Best thing—pockets.

While I did have a wristlet, I could use the pockets as well. The silver wristlet had just enough room for my phone, lipstick, and some cards and cash.

“How do I look?” I asked as I stepped out of the hotel bathroom.

Jenna’s lips twitched up into a smile. “Like a hot beotch.” She slipped a silver bangle over her hand. “Zip me up?”

I stepped over as Jenna turned, the glitzy deep red of her fitted dress contrasting against her golden, fair skin. Like mine, her dress sparkled in the light.

Chicago’s Resolution Gala was all about the shiny. It was an event we’d both looked forward to for months—the ultimate year-end party. We booked a few nights at the W Hotel with a room overlooking the lake that included a great view of the pier, which was already lit up.

Earlier in the day, the drive up to Chicago from Indianapolis had been filled with car karaoke and a growing buzz of excitement for the evening’s event.

Jenna picked at my hair, fixing a few strands that were bound to be decimated in minutes, but still, she’d spent a considerable amount of time styling it. My hair was normally stick straight and fought every single curl, but Jenna didn’t back down. Her black hair was silky and about as straight as mine, so she knew how to make it submit.

“I think we’re ready.” She picked up her phone and hit a few keys before throwing it down on the bed.

A couch lined the wall under the window, and I sat there as I slipped on my black platform shooties—a combo of heeled sandals and booties. As I stood, I was suddenly four inches taller.

“I wish I was this tall all the time,” I lamented.

Jenna quirked a brow, her own four-inch heels still keeping her an inch shorter than me. “And you could be if you wore those every day.”

“I meant without them, smartass.”

“But just think how banging your legs would look all the time.”

We pulled on our coats so at least part of us would be warm out in the cold of winter in the windy city, and headed down to the lobby.

“Uber is almost here,” Jenna said as she looked down at her phone. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The drive was a short one, but the line for drop-offs was nearly as long as the pier itself. Thankfully it continued to move at a fairly steady rate. It was way too cold out to walk, especially wearing a dress.

A gust of frigid air swept across my bare legs as I stepped out of the car and I cried out, hurrying my way to the entrance. We presented our tickets, then dropped our coats off at the coat check. With each step, my smile grew and the excitement pumped harder through my veins.

I felt as if my whole face lit up as I looked around in awe. The large dome structure was huge and already bursting with people. Lights of all colors moved around the room and up the dome walls, the music pumping through speakers. The deep bass beats shook the air, higher notes speeding up my blood as they pulsed through me.

“Oh, yeah, tonight is going to be trouble,” Jenna said as she scanned the room. A man in a suit was her weakness—mine too—and there were hundreds of them.

“Hell. Yes.” We high-fived and made our way to the closest bar.

Jenna ordered two vodka cranberries and we decided to move away from the entrance to a less crowded area.

Each step was a half dance—impossible to refuse the music and the movement it demanded.

Between the music and the throngs of people, it took a few minutes to cross the great space. Then finally, we found a spot and paid homage to the DJ and his sick beats.

I let go, eyes closed, arms up, every inch of my body surrendering to the beat. There was no pause, each song rolling into the next with fluid precision. Jenna and I sang, and sometimes screamed, along with the lyrics.

“I’m out,” she said, pointing to her empty cup. I finished off the last few sips of mine, and we located the nearest bar for a refill.

We retrieved our cups and headed back to the area we’d been in when one of the many bodies around us turned suddenly and stepped into me. Everything moved very slow and very fast at the same time.

The wave of red was vivid before it suddenly splashed down all over the front of my dress.

“s**t! I’m so sorry.”

My mouth popped open wide, back hunched with my arms wide in an effort to keep the liquid from my skin. Before me was a black suit with a grey button-down. As I worked my way up, a strong jaw appeared, followed by a set of kissable lips, a slightly crooked nose, and brilliant blue eyes that almost glowed in the low light and made my heart skip. Considering how far I had to crane my neck to see the guy, I could tell he was easily over six feet, and he was staring at me like he was waiting.

“s**t,” was all I could manage before I scrunched my eyes and glanced down. The once silver cloth was stained with red.

“I need to go wash this.”

“Let me help,” he said.

I blinked at him, wondering how he was going to help but not willing to say no because he was too good looking. One of those types you wouldn’t kick out of bed unless he said he was better on the floor.

I nodded and looked to Jenna, who mysteriously didn’t come to the rescue and offer to help. She grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat. “You better go take care of that before it sets. We’ll find someone to clean this up,” she said with a wink.

He held out his hand to help me step away from the pool of liquid and ice at my feet. Once we were a few feet away I thought he would release my hand, but instead he held it tightly as we moved through the mass of people.

We found the restrooms, and I was happy that there was one for families spaced between the men’s and women’s.

“Perfect,” he said as he held the door open, making sure to lock it behind him.

Inside was a good-sized space with plenty of room and a large counter and sink.

Immediately he began wetting paper towels while I pulled dry ones down. He took hold of the stack in my hand before I could say anything and shoved them down the front of my dress, holding them there. My eyes went wide and I drew in a sharp breath in shock at having some strange man’s hand invade my space like that.

My muscles coiled to slap him, but there was something very clinical about his actions, the crease in his brow as he manipulated the towels, and that stopped me. He had the wet ones pressed against the fabric and was using the dry ones underneath to soak up the moisture. It took about two seconds for the realization to dawn, and his eyes bugged out of his head before meeting my startled gaze.

“I am so sorry.”

“About the drink, or about shoving your hand down a strange woman’s dress?”

“Both, but definitely the latter.” Instead of pulling his hand out, he continued to dab against the fabric. It should have been awkward, but I found it more humorous than anything. “This is how I get stains out of my shirts before they set,” he said by way of an explanation.

I started to giggle, and he began to chuckle. There was a sparkle in his eyes that drew me in. “At least it wasn’t the bottom of my dress.”

“I definitely would have been rightfully slapped.”

“Or junk punched. I mean, I don’t even know your name and you’re already at second base.”

His smile was wide, exposing a perfect row of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Richard. It’s nice to meet you.”

I bit down on my bottom lip. “Hi, Richard. I’m Natasha.”

His eyes left mine and focused on his hands where he was blotting. “I think I got most of it.” He pulled a few more dry towels out, replacing the wet ones to pull out some moisture. “When it dries, you shouldn’t be able to tell.”

A gasp left me as his fingers brushed against my breasts when he pulled his hand out.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, the air noticeably thick between us. The heaviness was something I hadn’t felt in ages, and it was off to experience it with a man I’d first seen not more than fifteen minutes ago.

I turned to the mirror to look at my dress, a darker silver replacing the red and even that was beginning to fade. “Wow, neat trick. I’ll have to remember that. I’m always feeding my shirt at lunch.”

“And all wiping at it does is spread it everywhere.”

“So true.” There was an ease that I wasn’t expecting, a calm, like I’d known him for years. “Thank you for your help, Richard.”

“Anytime,” he said, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “Thank you for not slapping me.”

“I almost did, and you never know. The night is still young.” I reached out and swatted at his ass, which was deliciously muscular.

“I amend my statement—thank you for not slapping my face. You are welcome to slap my ass as much as you want.”

“Masochist.”

He took my hands and placed them on his chest. “I’m a masochist for wanting your hands on my body?”

I drew in a shaky breath. There was a definite current passing between us that wanted more. “Wow, we should get back out there before I do something I have never done before and will probably regret in the morning.”

“You’re right. We should remain chaste and pure and not give in to these lustful thoughts.” He held the door open and ushered me through. The music wasn’t as intense in the hallway as the main room, so we stayed back.

“Who said they were lustful?” I asked. It had been a while since I’d flirted with a guy, let alone one that gave as good as he got.

“I assumed that ‘something’ you were thinking of was my same ‘something’ I was thinking and that, while I probably wouldn’t regret it in the morning, there is a fair chance I’ll want more.”

I quirked a brow at him. “More than a night? We just met.”

“A phone number at the very least.”

I pursed my lips at him, though I was pretty sure I would give him my number. “Hmm, let’s see how the night goes.”

“Does that mean you’ll be my dance partner for the evening?” he asked and held out his hand.

I slipped mine in his and let out a gasp at the current that passed between us. “Oh, I feel like we’re at some high school formal now. All I need is a corsage, booze pilfered from my parents’ lacking at-home bar, and awkward teenage s*x, and the night is complete.”

The crease reappeared in his brow. “I’d like to think my performance has improved since prom.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no basis for a comparison other than my own experiences and—” I drew a breath in through my teeth “—there are no lost world wonders there.”

He leaned his shoulder against one of the massive columns. “I can’t tell if the bar is really low or if your expectations are extremely high.”

“Can you make a woman come?” I asked with a quirk of my brow.

“It’s been a while, but the deed would have my full attention.” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips.

I mimicked his stance, leaning against the wide base, facing him. “That’s enough to be a consideration. How long is a while?”

“How long is a while to you?” he countered.

“I had three dates with a guy around Valentine’s Day, hoping to have some great love connection and not be alone on the biggest love-fest day of the year, but the s*x put the nail in that coffin real quick.”

“That bad?”

“I’m not sure he ever progressed past prom s*x. Plus he barely had it in before he was coming.”

“That is bad.”

I twirled my hand in the air. “Hence my dry spell. Why do I need a guy when my vibe does a better job than any man ever has?”