Chasing Lia [Edward Cullen]

Chapter - 15

Lia'd lost count of the number of drinks Holly had pressed into her hand, telling her that since she was the designated driver, Lia was required to drink for two. “I can’t touch any of these hotties. Now finish that margarita, stop scowling, and stare at one of these guys until he knows he won’t lose a limb if he asks you to dance.”

“I’m not scowling!” Lia scowled, obeying and tossing the drink back. She grimaced. Cheap tequila refused to be concealed by an abundance of even cheaper margarita mix, but that’s what you get for no cover charge and five dollar drinks.

Still relatively early, the small club they decided to occupy for the night wasn’t yet overcrowded with the hundreds of college students and townies it would hold soon. Lia, Bella and Holly claimed a corner of the near-vacant floor. Having downed the drinks and dressed the part, Lia moved to the music, gradually loosening up while laughing at Bella’s cheer poses and Holly’s ballet movements. The first guy to interrupt them approached Bella, but she shook her head as her lips mouthed the word boyfriend. She turned him toward Lia and the said girl thought: That’s her: boyfriend-less. No more relationship. No more Edward. No more You’re my Lia.

“Wanna dance?” the guy yelled over the music, fidgeting as though he was ready to bolt if she turned him down. Lia nodded, choking back the pointless, almost physical pain. She was no one’s girlfriend,  and she felt the pain for the first time in five years.

They moved to an open space a few feet from Bella and Holly—who also had a boyfriend. It didn’t take long to figure out that the two of them planned to point every guy who asked one of them to dance with her. She was their pet project for the night.

Two hours later, she’d danced with too many guys to remember, dodging wandering hands and turning down any drinks not handed to her by Bella. Crowded around a tall table near the floor, they leaned hips on the barstools surrounding it, watching the surrounding hookup activity. As Holly returned from bopping and pirouetting her way to the bathroom and back, Lia asked if we could go yet, and Bella fixed her with a look. Lia smirked at her and sipped her drink.

Lia knew when the next guy walked up behind her, and that Bella and Holly approved, because their eyes widened simultaneously, focusing over Lia's shoulder. Cold fingers grazed the back of her arm, and Lia took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before turning around. Bad thing, because it was Edward who stood there, his eyes dropping to her cleavage for a split second. He crooked an eyebrow and gazed into her eyes with a faint smile, unapologetic for looking. The heels on her boots were killing her feet, but they weren’t tall enough to bring her eye-to-eye with him.

Rather than raising his voice like everyone else, he leaned close to her ear and asked, “Dance with me?” Lia felt his warm breath and inhaled the scent of his hair—something basic and male—before he withdrew, his eyes on hers, waiting for her answer. An enthusiastic nudge between her shoulder blades told me Bella’s vote: go dance with him.

Lia nodded, and he took her hand and made his way to the floor, maneuvering through the crowd, which parted easily for him. Once we reached the worn oak floor, he turned and pulled her close, never letting go of her hand. As they found the rhythm of the slow-paced song, swaying together, he took her other hand in his and moved both hands behind her back, gently holding her captive. Her chest grazed against his' and she struggled not to gasp at the subtle contact. She knew that he won't let her go.

Lia’d barely let anyone else touch her at all that night, adamantly refusing all slow dances. Dizzy from weak-but-plentiful margaritas, she closed her eyes and let Edward lead, telling herself that the difference was the alcohol in her blood, nothing more. A minute later, he released her fingers and spread his hands across her lower back, and her hands moved to his biceps. Solid, as she knew they would be. Tracking a path, her palms encountered equally hard shoulders. Finally, she hooked her fingers behind his neck and opened her eyes.

His gaze was penetrating, not wavering for a moment, and her pulse hammered under his silent scrutiny.

Finally, she stretched up toward his ear, and he leaned down to accommodate her question. “S-so what are you doing here?” She breathed.

From the corner of her eye, sge watched his mouth twitch up on one side. “Do you really want to talk about that?” He maintained the closeness, their torsos pressed together chest to thigh, ostensibly waiting for her answer. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so full of pure, unqualified desire.

She swallowed. “As opposed to talking about what?”

He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations of his chest against hers.  “As opposed to not talking at all.” His hands at her waist gripped a little tighter, thumbs pressing into her ribcage, fingers still at her lower back.

She blinked, one moment not understanding what his words implied, and the next knowing unreservedly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.

He leaned closer still, his smooth cheek whispering against hers as he murmured, “Yes, you do.” Struck again by his scent—clean and subtle, unlike the trendy colognes Nicolas favored, which always seemed to overpower any scent she wore—she felt an impulse to bring her fingertips to his face and trail them over his  jaw. She could feel nothing but his mouth on hers, in imaginations of course and maybe the graze of his sharp teeth on her bottom lip.

The errant thought made her breath catch.

When his lips touched just south of her earlobe, she thought she might pass out. “Let’s just dance,” he said. Pulling back just far enough to stare into her eyes, he drew her body against his, and her legs obeyed where his said to go.