Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback. I love the reviews and seeing the questions you want answered. I'm trying to get these Chapters out as quickly as possible.
The air conditioning of the cool club does it's best to counter the heat of the sweaty bodies gyrating on the floor. Paige is right in the middle of the fray, her body swaying to the beat, trying to lose herself in the music. The crowd pulses around her. She's an anonymous being in a room full of strangers and she relishes the fact that for a moment she's free from the once comforting walls of Graceland.
A few minutes ago she'd been in the lap of Pedro Perez, who wasn't particularly important, other than he was currently talking to Sanchez Reyes, the right hand man of Mateo Jimenz, a high ranking drug supplier Paige desperately wanted to get behind bars.
Unfortunately as soon as the crooks started to talk business, Paige was told to go dance and enjoy herself out of earshot. She knew how these things worked though. She knew how men worked and she had a plan. She would go out onto the floor and dance just enough to attract attention, not just from Pedro, but from every other man in this club until one came to dance with her. Then Pedro would let his jealous nature overcome his business ethics and insist she not leave his side all night. Easy.
This new case was perfect for Paige. It was what she knew. Bad men, selling drugs, a simple exchange of cash for coke. The men operated mostly out of high end clubs, which allowed the leggy blonde in with no questions asked. She would get this guy behind bars and she would use the case as a distraction to forget about Mike, about Briggs, about sex trafficking, and about Graceland.
Paige closed her eyes and swayed her hips to the music. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the weight of the stares upon her from the men in the crowd. Shouldn't take too long for one of them to get the courage to approach her.
She was in her element. She let her guard down, her thoughts slip from her mind as she turned on the autopilot. Paige brought the cold glass of vodka on ice to her lips and savored the bitter freezing taste on her tongue as she swayed. She didn't expect any trouble this early on into making contacts so she allowed herself to imbibe. She danced in the middle of the floor, allowing the chilled glass to press against the hot skin of her neck as she swayed.
A gangly bespeckled guy tried to approach her, but he was awkward, and Paige knew he would not be perceived as enough of a threat to flame Pedro's jealousy. She needs an alpha man. So she dismisses him from her side quickly and firmly, but tries to be kind. She continues to dance, her eyes scanning the room for a potential aid in her quest.
She spots him across the floor, confident and tall, dark hair and skin. He's perfect. Muscular and beautiful and just the right air of cockiness to suit her purposes. He's so perfect, Paige worries he might be gay. With his tight shirt and impeccable grooming he may be, but he could just be metrosexual. From this far away she has trouble telling. No way to find out but to catch his attention.
She allows herself to make eye contact with him long enough to be suggestive and then looks away coyly. He smiles at her and lifts his glass, and she silently toasts him back before starting to vamp up her dancing. Perfect. All she has to do now is wait. She closes her eyes as her hips sway to the music letting her hands suggestively run down the curves of her sides.
She feels fingertips digging into her hip, and a hard body press against her back. Paige's lips curl into a self satisfied smirk as she feels a hand wrap around hers, taking the glass in her hand confidently and setting it aside. She grins to herself. He is a cocky bastard. Men are so predictable. She presses back against the stranger behind her, grinding back into him to the beat of the music slowly and sensually.
He presses against her from behind, both hands digging into her hips, holding her firm, setting the pace and directing the rhythm of her hips to match his. She can feel him hard against her back, all lean and muscular. The unmistakable bulge pressed against her ass lets her know that he's definitely not gay. She can feel the heat from his body against her back, and she rolls languidly against him.
Even as her body moves in a soft sensual motion, her mind is somewhere else, analyzing her next move. Pedro probably won't notice in the first song, probably closer to the end of the second. She'll need to dance at least four more songs with Mr. Cocky before he interrupts. She'll have to pace herself. She needs to make sure her dancing is hot enough to keep his attention and attract Pedro's jealousy, but not so hot that Mr. Cocky tries to drag her off to a bathroom somewhere. It's a delicate balance.
Her eyes closed, she allows herself to get lost in the beat of the music rocking back against him. Beat and pulse, sway and grind. She finds her mind emptying as she moves against the stranger, letting him take control of the dance. Letting him take control of her. His body hard behind hers, his hands on her hips, her thighs. How long has it been since she's let someone touch her? Hold her? Not for a while. Not since before Sulla's. She hadn't let someone touch her since… Mike.
It hurts to even think of his name and she pushes it willfully from her mind, forcing herself into the moment, the music, the heat of a stranger. The heat of this moment. She tries to take a moment just to appreciate this for what it is. Human connection. The thrill of losing her sense of self and her overtaxed mind to the primal instinct of hips on hips. The heavy breath on her neck. Skin on skin. His touch. His heat. His scent.
His scent.
She recognizes that scent.
Instantly, Paige is yanked out of her peaceful hypnotic trance and into a haze of painful memories. Her eyes fly open and she looks across the bar to where the tall dark skin man who toasted her is leaning in close to kiss the lips of another man. She looks down to the pale arm wrapped possessively around her waist. The fingertips that are hidden under the hem of her shirt, pressed against her flat stomach. The hands on her seem to tighten slightly as he feels her body tense.
For a moment, time stops as they both freeze on the dance floor. He waits for her reaction, not daring to move until she does. Paige takes a deep breath, nearly drowning in the smell of the pheromones and sweat emanating from the body behind her. She tries to relax her body and slow her pulse and tentatively begins to move her hips again. He follows her lead, and they resume dancing silently. His fingers holding her hips like a vice, afraid she might run.
The music beats faster and she presses harshly back into his body, he meets her thrusts with his own, and their dancing begins to become wilder. His hands begin to roam her body, squeezing and groping her everywhere he can touch. Like she's clay and he's shaping her into his own creation. Unwilling to be a passive participant in the dance, her own hands reach behind her to grasp his legs, touching him however she can without turning around. She can't turn around for fear she'll break the spell. That he'll disappear and she'll find this isn't real. This can't be real.
"Kaylie."
His own hands pull her closer. She arches against him and can feel his mouth on her neck. Her hand comes up to grip the back of his neck holding his mouth to her and he devours her. His lips glide over her collar bone and shoulder. He suckles the delicate flesh, marking her as his. Paige closes her eyes and drowns in the sensation, becoming limp and pliable in his arms even as she writhes against him.
"Kaylie!"
People are staring, and she doesn't care, because he's here. The entire room has faded completely away. She wonders if maybe she's died in the middle of the dance floor to be reunited like this, but he feels so alive behind her. So hot and possessive and familiar. This can't be her imagination. This has to be him.
"Kaylie!"
The name finally permeates the thick fog she's found herself lost in, and she looks up to realize that Pedro is calling for her from the edge of the dance floor. Calling for Kaylie. Which tonight is Paige.
Paige doesn't know why she didn't give him her real name. Usually she didn't use a fake name, but tonight she just wanted to be someone other than her. She hesitates and looks over to his harsh stare. He's gesturing for her to stop dancing and come join him.
She's suddenly feeling flush. She's not sure how long he's been watching. She feels like she's being jerked out of a dream. She feels all the blood rushing back to her brain as she realizes this was the goal. To get herself back into Pedro's lap. The coke. The cash. The bad guys. Nothing seems to matter anymore, everything seems eclipsed in comparison to the earthquake her soul just felt.
She feels the hand on her hip loosen and let her go. She turns to look at him, but she barely catches a glimpse of the man walking away through the thick crowd. She squints her eyes, and starts to follow. She needs to see his face. Needs to know who this stranger is… A hand catches her wrist and she turns back to find Pedro glaring at her. Stunned and disoriented, Paige allows herself to be led back off the dance floor.
She takes one last look through the club, but it's filled with nameless faces. Her eyes finally settle upon a tall pale man who winks at her and waves. He has a similar build, but it's definitely not Mike. Of course it's not. It couldn't have been him.
Mike's dead.
People just believe what they want to believe.