Taking the chopsticks, I snap them apart and hurry to get something in my mouth. Thankfully, the band returns to the stage and after some brief chatter, they launch into a Grateful Dead tune. Bucky takes a bite of his tuna sandwich and smiles at me again, and I make the decision to leave with Tabby once she gets here.
The dark red sashimi dipped in soy sauce is delicious, tangy and fresh, and I’m transporting a slice of California roll to my mouth when my eyes land on Jackson. My chopsticks flip and I drop the piece right in my lap.
“Shit!” I scoop it out of my napkin hoping the dark brown sauce didn’t bleed through onto the crotch of my white shorts.
Another glance, and I see he’s glaring at me from the bar where he’s standing next to André.
“Would you like to dance?” Bucky shouts across the table.
He holds out a hand, and I’m paralyzed. On the one hand, I do not want to be clutched against Stinky Bucky. On the other hand, I don’t want Jackson thinking I’m just sitting around at home waiting for him to show up in the middle of the night and kiss my lips off.
“Sure,” I say slowly.
Bucky’s eyes light and he stands, waiting for me beside my chair. I rise and clutch both his hands in mine, keeping them down and away from my torso. He tries to lift them, and I clutch his wrists tighter, holding our hands straight down and swaying side to side.
“You’re not a very good dancer, are you?” he asks.
“My mother doesn’t approve of sinful hugging,” I lie, although it’s probably true. I’ve never asked her.
We stand in front of each other on the dance floor, surrounded by couples clutched up and writhing, with our hands straight down doing the sway. My brain is slightly fuzzy from too much cheap beer. I don’t even notice Jackson approaching from the bar until he’s right beside us.
“I’m cutting in,” he says, catching Bucky by the shoulder.
“That’s not how it works here!” my date protests.
It doesn’t matter. Jackson wraps an arm possessively around my waist and pulls me to him. My soft breasts flatten against his hard chest, and my entire body floods with heat.
One strong arm is tight around my waist. The other holds my hand close in his. The whisper of his breath is against my brow, and it sends electricity humming in my veins.
With every rapid inhale, my senses are filled with leather, soap, and Jackson—a scent I remember too well. The song is beachy, free and easy. I recognize the tune, but I don’t know the words. All I know is the molding of my body against his in perfect time.
“Why are you here with Bucky?” His voice is against my skin, and my eyes close.
I’m too light and buzzed, and after our kiss last night, it’s very possible I might kiss him again. A few deep breaths, and I force myself to remember through the haze. I have very good reasons for staying away from Jackson Cane. I force my racing heart to steady.
“We’re on a date, not that it’s any of your business.” My voice sounds so much calmer than I feel.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand on my back moves lower, pulling me closer against his body. The song merges into something new, and we’re quiet, swaying. I’m holding his shoulder, and my fingers are white from clutching his firm muscles.
“Let me go, Jackson,” I say those words again, but this time, they seem to have less conviction.
Again, no immediate response. The hand on my back moves higher, to my waist, tightens briefly before relaxing, releasing me.
“I don’t like to see you dancing with another guy.” Blue eyes sear into mine, and his possessive words are like warm caramel in my veins.
I should argue with him. I should tell him I’ll dance with whomever I want.
But he’s the only person I want to dance with…
It’s always been him.
He returns to the bar next to André, but his eyes stay on me. I walk slowly to the table, where my sushi waits beside the half-finished cup of watery beer. My insides are so mixed up. I want to collapse into the chair and cry. I want to go home, get away from this noise and confusion. I have to think about Coco and refocus my mind on my plans, what’s important.
Tabby’s words that my needs are important float around in my mind, and I sneak another glance. My eyes meet Jackson’s, and it’s a flash of lightning to my core. He isn’t smiling. He’s watching me.
Bucky takes another big slug of beer. “Jackson Cane thinks he can just come back here, take over…”
Blinking to my date, I notice he’s talking more, and I wonder if he’s too buzzed to get me home. “Would you take me home now?”