Hottest Mess (SIN 2)

Sylvia smiles wide, and I feel a tightening in my gut. I want that. I want a family. I want kids.

I want Dallas.

And I don't want to hide.

I turn toward him--though I don't know what I intend to say. It's not as if I'm going to jump up on stage and announce our love. I guess I just want to look at him, this man with whom I share such a vexing love.

I'm about to pull him aside on some pretense when the opening band comes on, so I forcefully push my melancholy aside--tonight is about being festive, after all--and let myself get swept away in the music.

The VIP section fills up quickly, but there's still room to dance, and I'm doing so much of that I'm slick with sweat, even though I've dressed simply in a cotton halter and low-rise jeans. I'm drinking vodka like it's water to cool down, and I'm already a little bit buzzed, which is perfectly fine by me. I didn't catch the band's name, but they're awesome, and when they finish and we all applaud, I make a mental note to ask Damien later. Meanwhile, my eyes are glued to the stage as the host introduces the main act.

Dallas is standing right behind me, and though his hands aren't touching me, he sways forward and I sway back, so that our bodies brush just slightly. And I know that while we both hope that it looks like an innocent brush of two people moving on a dance floor, in our minds, we're both fucking right here in the crowd.

And damned if I don't want to reach back, hold his hips still, and grind my ass against his erection. The urge is so powerful, in fact, that I clasp my hands in front of my belly button, afraid that if I let go I will give in to desire. Because I'm wired on music and drink and my inhibitions are very, very low.

Then Dominion Gate comes on, and everyone around us goes completely crazy, and when they lead into their first song, I start to dance and Nikki and Sylvia soon join me, and I can feel Dallas behind us, swaying to the music, his eyes hard and hot on me. And, yes, I add a few extra shimmies knowing that he is watching me.

Soon enough, though, I just get lost in the music. I don't even realize that a tall, blond guy has moved in close to dance with me, and when I do, I start to move away. But then I think, fuck it. We're supposed to be playing the role of siblings, right?

And, yeah, maybe some part of me wants Dallas to see. To have the tiniest inkling of what it was like for me every time I saw one of those women at his side. And it's not like I'm going to fuck the guy. But I am touching him, our hips brushing as we move to the music. Our bodies finding the music as I wish that he was Dallas and that I was grinding hard against him. And it's only when Dallas moves in and roughly shoves the guy out of the way that I realize just how much I've gotten to him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He's leaning in close because he has to practically shout to be heard over the band.

I hold on to his shoulder for balance as I answer. "Dancing."

"Dammit, Jane. You--"

"No. No. You're the one I want to dance with. Hell, you're the one I want to press against," I add. "To kiss." And then, because I've drunk too damn much, I move in closer, then grind against him before boldly lowering my hand to brush his erection.

"Christ, Jane." He pushes me away, then roughly pulls me back.

And even though I know it's a mistake, I rise up onto my toes and close my mouth over his.

I'm not sure what I intended. Maybe just a quick, chaste brush of lips. A tease.

Dallas doesn't take it that way. He's had as much to drink as I have, maybe more, and between us we're a walking billboard for impaired reason. Because god knows he shouldn't be sliding his arm around my waist. Shouldn't be pulling me close. Shouldn't be slanting his mouth over mine and sliding his tongue inside, kissing me deep and hard and making me so goddamn wet right here on the dance floor.

He shouldn't, but he is. And only when the bright flash of cameras breaks through my haze and reality finally crashes through my addled brain do I realize the consequences and push him away from me.

But it's too late. We've been recognized, and camera phones are still snapping and people nearby are pointing and yelling, and though I can't hear what they're saying over the band, I don't stay to find out. Instead, I turn away, ignoring both Nikki and Sylvia who reach for me, and race out of the VIP section.

I shove through the crowd, or at least I try to. But it's only when bouncers open a path that I am finally able to move, and I realize belatedly that Damien and Dallas are ahead of me, and that Damien's had security clear us a path.

Dallas and Jackson are on either side of me as Damien holds the door open and says something to the bouncer,

who signals for the limo to pull up.

The driver steps out to open the door, and we start to hustle that way. "Just take it," I hear Damien say. "I can get another one easily enough."

"Thanks, man," Dallas says. "I can't--"

But Damien just shakes his head. "I don't need an explanation." He turns and smiles at me. "It was great meeting you, Jane. You're going to be just fine."

I somehow manage to respond, and Dallas and I head across the parking lot to the limo. But we don't make it.

Someone inside must have made a call, because now the small crowd of reporters and paparazzi that had been hanging around outside the club hoping for pictures of Damien Stark or the band or Dallas has turned feral, and I can feel my panic rising. I can't believe that I've done this. That I started this avalanche. Me, who only wants to be in control. Who fantasized about being open in my relationship with Dallas, but never, ever wanted this. The media. The attention. All the trappings and bullshit.

But that's what we have, and now the press is surrounding us like a pack of dogs, and although Damien and his security guys tell them to back off, they continue to shout questions and flash pictures.