Whispered Desires

Chapter 9: Dancing's not a crime

KILIAN

I can still taste her.

And fuck, did she taste delicious. She was so damn wet, I was afraid I'd have to buy Hayden some new seats if she stayed in that car just a minute longer.

Don't get me wrong, I wanted her to stay longer. Hell, I would've fucked her right then and there, bro code be damned. Jasmine just makes me lose my mind, and I didn't even care that I would've gotten my ass handed to me for doing it in my best friend's car, honestly. That's what this woman is doing to me - and I have no idea how.

It's exactly why I need to clear my head, preferably by a pretty blonde at the bar Abe told me about. Abe is - well, was - a teammate, and I haven't seen much of him since I moved to a different agency that got me a spot with the San Francisco Saints. He's a good guy though, always up for trouble when it's needed, and loyal to the bone.

"What about this one?" Abe nods to the corner of the dancefloor where a blonde chick is dancing on her own, swaying her hips left and right and letting her hair flow with every move.

She reminds me of Heidi, or whatever her name was, and for some reason that just turns me off. She was a good fuck, but that's about it, although it seems like she doesn't understand that. My phone has been ringing constantly, showing calls and texts from her, asking if I wanted to meet up with her.

I didn't answer, obviously. It's not just the fact that she's starting to get clingy just because I fucked her once, it's also that I know that Mitchell Brown will be there, too, and I have no interest in seeing his ugly ass face anytime soon.

"Dude..." Abe nudges my shoulder, still waiting for an answer to his suggestion.

"Nah," I shake my head, "She looks fake."

"Since when do you care if a woman looks fake?" Abe laughs as he takes a sip of his beer, obviously looking for his own victim of the night.

Well, they're no victims, really. They know who we are; they know what we do; we don't promise them anything... Usually, they're grateful to cross famous footballer off their fuck-bucket lists.

"I don't. She just turns me off," I shrug.

"If you say so... Well, we should start... Whoa, wait!" He suddenly points to the other side of the dancefloor. "Isn't that the redhead from Hayden's wedding? Mila's friend?"

His words make me snap my head in the direction he's pointing at, and it only takes a split second until I notice her at the corner of the room, dancing very intimately with some guy. Her hair is tied into a messy bun that jiggles with every dance move she makes, and I don't miss the way this guy secures her hips, his hands firmly gripping into her skin.

"What was her name again?" Abe asks, but I can't stop looking at her, at the way she sways her hips, single strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead while she moves to the beat.

"Jasmine. Her name is Jasmine."

"Yeah, right! Hey, she's here with Cooper." He nods to the guy she's dancing with.

"Cooper?"

"Yeah, don't you remember? He jumped in a few years ago when my physio had the flu. The guy is important, apparently. Works with race drivers and stuff..."

But I don't even acknowledge Abe anymore, because the guy suddenly leans down and whispers something into Jasmine's ear, and she bursts out laughing as she turns around, her arms wrapping around his neck while they keep on dancing, obviously having a deep conversation now.