Evie's pov
The club was alive.
Lights flashing like pulse beats, bass pounding through my ribs until it felt like my heart was syncing with the music.
Sasha was already somewhere on the dance floor—laughing, twirling, dragging some guy with broad shoulders into the rhythm. I caught her eye once, and she grinned, mouthing, “Have fun!” before disappearing into the chaos.
The bartender slid another martini toward me. I didn’t even hesitate.
The first one had burned—sharp and clean.
The second made my limbs looser.
The third turned the music into something I could feel.
And the fourth… the fourth made me forget there was ever a reason to stop.
By the time I pushed off the bar, everything was warm.
My head, my blood, my smile.
The alcohol thrummed under my skin, making the lights shimmer brighter, the air taste sweeter.
The world glittered—soft lights, shimmering skin, perfume and smoke blending into something dizzying and dangerous.
I lifted my arms and let the music swallow me whole.
The dress clung to my body, the satin cooling my flushed skin as my hair stuck to the back of my neck. Laughter spilled from my lips, wild and careless, between lyrics I couldn’t even catch anymore. I spun, hips swaying, eyes half-closed, glass still in my hand.
The music shifted—lower, filthier, the kind that crawled through your veins and made your thoughts dissolve. The crowd pressed tighter, a wave of heat and motion.
And then—someone was behind me.
Close. Too close.
I felt him before I saw him.
The heat of his chest against my back, the brush of his breath against my ear.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, voice dark and smooth like another drink I shouldn’t have taken.
I giggled, the sound spilling out before I could stop it. “Hi,” I breathed, dizzy from the mix of gin and rhythm.
He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne blending with the alcohol still coating my tongue. “You look like sin,” he whispered.
The words slid through me like honey and fire. My giggle turned softer, slower. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s a warning,” he said, his tone low, teasing, dangerous. “You’re gonna get someone in trouble dancing like that.”
“Maybe that’s the point,” I murmured, my body moving with the music, liquid and reckless.
His hand hovered over my waist, not quite touching—then he did. Lightly. Testing. His fingers brushed the curve of my hip, and I didn’t stop him. I just kept swaying, too lost in the rhythm and the alcohol to remember why I should.
I turned to look at him,my hands on his chest.The lights flickered red and gold across his face. Sharp jaw. Messy dark hair. Eyes like melted metal.
He was attractive. Objectively.
But he wasn’t—
God. Stop.
Even drunk, even this lost, Adrien’s face flashed through my mind. His ocean blue eyes. That voice. The way he says my name like it is both a warning and a promise.
Why was I thinking about him?
The stranger’s hand slid lower.
And lower—on my ass.
“Hey—” I started, my voice slurring but my frown forming anyway.
He didn’t stop.
And then—he couldn’t.
Because a hand, strong and cold with fury, clamped around the back of his jacket from behind.
The guy stumbled, startled, his grip torn away from me as someone yanked him backward, hard enough to make the entire moment collapse like a snapped string.
The crowd didn’t notice. The music swallowed everything.
I blinked, unsteady, the room spinning. My pulse hammered everywhere—neck, wrists, chest.
And through the haze of lights and smoke—
I saw him.
And my breath caught.
Adrien’s POV
I didn’t even plan on coming here.
Honestly, I should’ve gone home. Should’ve poured a drink, stared at my ceiling, maybe convinced myself that the mess in my head would quiet down. But instead, I found myself in the dim corner of a club I’d never stepped foot in before—alone, half-drowning in noise and neon lights, watching strangers laugh like the world wasn’t constantly falling apart.
The music pulsed, low and heavy, vibrating through the leather of the booth. I nursed my glass—something dark and burning—and told myself I’d leave after one drink. One.
Then she walked in.
And my world fucking stopped.
Evie.
That dress—God. That dress. Deep red, the color of danger and sin, clinging to her body like it was painted on. It dipped low in the front, teasing a glimpse of skin, but the back… the back was bare, smooth, golden under the club lights. The hem was short, scandalously short, showing off miles of soft skin that made my throat dry.
She looked like every temptation I’d ever tried to resist—and failed.
My breath caught. My fingers tightened around my glass. I couldn’t look away, not even if I wanted to. Every move she made drew me in—the sway of her hips, the light catching her hair, the laughter spilling from her lips as she and her friend disappeared into the crowd.
And when she started dancing—really dancing—the room fell away. The music faded. It was just her.
The way her body moved with the rhythm, wild and free. The way her laughter mixed with the bass, like she belonged to the music itself.
Then I saw him.
Some asshole behind her. His hands finding her waist. Sliding lower.
And when his fingers brushed her ass—something inside me snapped.
I didn’t think. I moved.
By the time my brain caught up, my hand was already wrapped around his jacket,yanking him back hard enough to make him stumble. The guy spun around, all attitude and cheap cologne—until he saw my face.
“Touch her again,” I said quietly, my voice low and lethal, “and you’ll regret it.”
He backed off, muttering something, but I didn’t hear him. Because when I turned—when my eyes found her—everything inside me went still.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy from the alcohol, lips parted in a small, hazy smile.
“Freckles,” I breathed.
She blinked, and then—God help me—she smiled wider. “Adriennnnnn,” she squealed, dragging out my name like it was her favorite song. “Hiiiiii.”
Before I could react, her small hands cupped my face, fingers warm against my jaw. Her touch burned through me, soft but dizzying.
God…” I muttered under my breath, the word dragging out on an exhale. “You’re drunk.”
She shook her head immediately, curls bouncing, lips pouting like she was genuinely offended. “Nuh-uh,” she said, voice soft and sweetly slurred. Then she lifted her hand, squinting one eye shut as she held her thumb and pointer finger barely an inch apart. “Just… a little bit,” she whispered, her smile tilting into a giggle that melted straight through my composure.
Cute.
I stared at her, torn between laughing and cursing.
Because she looked impossibly innocent—barely standing, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy—but there was nothing innocent about the way that dress clung to her or how her body still moved with the echo of the music.
She was chaos wrapped in silk.
And I was already drowning in her.
I exhaled slowly, trying to pull myself together. “Come on,” I said gently, wrapping a hand around her wrist. “Let’s go, Freckles.”
But she just shook her head, hair falling into her face as she pouted. “Noooo,” she whined, voice soft and slurred. “I wanna stay. I wanna dance.”
“Evie—”
Before I could finish, she moved closer—too close. Her hips swayed lazily to the beat, her hands sliding up my chest, resting at the back of my neck. Her perfume hit me like a drug—sweet, intoxicating, familiar.
She tilted her head, eyes locking onto mine, her voice dropping into something dangerously soft.
“Don’t you wanna dance with me?”
I swallowed hard.
Every part of me screamed to step back. To walk away before I did something I’d regret. But her lips were inches from mine, her breath warm, her body pressed against me, and I couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe—couldn’t move.
The world blurred. The music pulsed between us.
She looked up at me through those hazy, half-lidded eyes—and then she turned.
Slowly.
Her back met my chest, the heat of her body searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. The music shifted—low, sensual, the kind that made the whole room move like smoke. The bass throbbed beneath our feet, syncing with the pulse hammering in my throat.
And then she started to move.
Her hips rolled against me, slow, deliberate. My breath stuttered. Every muscle in my body locked up—then gave in.
“Evie…” I murmured, warning, plea, prayer—all tangled in one word.
She didn’t stop.
Her head tilted back, brushing against my jaw, her laughter soft and dizzy. She smelled like vanilla and tequila and trouble. Her fingers drifted behind her, finding the edge of my jacket, gripping it like an anchor as she kept swaying—pressing closer, dragging me straight into the fire.
I bit down on a curse, my hands twitching at my sides. I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.
But fuck, she was right there.
My resolve shattered the moment she rolled her hips again, the curve of her ass pressing perfectly against me. My hands found her waist before I could stop myself, holding her steady, tight—but not tight enough.
Her breath hitched.
“Adrien,” she whispered, his name melting from her tongue like a secret.
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, trying to remember that this wasn’t real—she was drunk,she didn’t mean it.
But her body moved against mine again, slow and teasing, like she knew exactly what she was doing. And my self-control? Gone. Completely fucking gone.
“Freckles,” I rasped against her ear, voice low and rough. “You need to stop.”
She just turned her head slightly, eyes fluttering open to meet mine over her shoulder.
Her lips curved into a tipsy, wicked smile.
“Why?” she whispered. “You don’t want me to?”
Her words hit me like a sucker punch.
Every muscle in my body locked. Every ounce of restraint I’d scraped together burned to ash.
YOU ARE READING
Bitter Love
RomanceEvie's life was simple-until a fateful encounter with Adrien Lacroix, the cold and untouchable CEO, drags her into a world she never imagined. Beneath his polished exterior lies a maze of secrets, and as Evie becomes entangled in his life, she disco...
