Chapter 78

The One Where They Celebrate

NATE

This is our last night here in Canada and fuck, what a time it’s been. This place is incredibly relaxing for me—despite the nightmares and the awareness of the fact that we’re in a metaphorical love bubble here. I realize that our life back home isn’t perfect, that Vivien and Langley still await us, but I’m trying to put those thoughts on the back burner. I’ve dug a grave for them and buried them six feet under.

Or at least, I want to believe I have.

Tonight, we’re taking Arielle to a nightclub. She told me she wants to go dancing and to experience how different clubs are up here compared to home. I think she just wants to get drunk, but that’s alright with me. I’ll be there to protect her if there are any creeps, I’ll be there to carefully guide her and keep her from falling during her drunken stumbles, and I’ll be there to hold her hair back at the end of the night.

I’m currently seated on the edge of our bed, awaiting her as she gets dressed. I’ve already gotten ready. We showered together earlier—if you could really consider what we did getting clean—and it didn’t take much for me to prepare. I decided to go all black tonight—jeans, button-up shirt, and combat boots.

I wasn’t going to wear the dress shirt because I thought it was a bit fancy, but Arielle told me to wear it rather than a plain shirt. She hasn’t seen the final product of my outfit, however, I have no idea what she’s wearing either. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll have me wishing I could tie her to this bed frame one last time before we leave this country and have her singing the Ohhh in O Canada.

If you catch my drift.

When she steps out of the bathroom, I nearly swallow my fucking tongue.

She looks so fucking beautiful. How does she look gorgeous in everything she wears? Everything she doesn’t wear? She’s the most stunning creature to have ever been created and I’m the luckiest person on this planet that she chose me.

Who the fuck knows why she did so, but she chose me.

She’s wearing a tight black dress. It’s a silky, satiny material, with tiny straps and a high slit on her right thigh. Her feet adorn heels with straps as thin as the ones on her shoulders—they elongate her smooth legs, make me want to say fuck it to this nightclub and hook them over my shoulders to bury my face in the heaven that resides between them.

The dress definitely doesn’t wear her, she wears it. She fucking owns it. She wears it like a threat—intimidating and powerful. Powerful enough to make my knees weak.

To go with the necklace of my name, she has a sparkling one wrapped delicately around her neck, at the front of which has a long piece that rests between her perfectly pushed-up tits. It’s another distraction, seeing the tip of her sternum tattoo between the deep cut in the front of the dress. Another reason I should carefully peel her out of this dress and bend her over the edge of the mattress until she’s screaming my name.

Her hair falls in long, soft waves down her shoulders, with a shade of deep brown on her eyelids. The makeup is just enough to make her green eyes stand out, although they’re already so prominent without anything surrounding them.

She’s not even paying attention to me as I practically fucking drool over her. Instead, she’s spun around and is adjusting a tiara on her head as she peers at herself in a stand-up mirror against the wall.

I rise from the bed, sauntering towards her. My hands find home on her waist and I push my hips into hers, taking a hand off her hip for only a moment to brush hair off her shoulder. I press my mouth to the curve of her neck as she sighs into my touch.

The tiara was Zara’s idea—a visual sign that she’s the special one of our group for the night. I’m surprised she didn’t buy her one of those sash things, one with Birthday Bitch handwritten on it.

“You look absolutely fuckin’ delectable, my love.” I drag my lips across her skin, feeling her pulse begin to race beneath my touch. She spins around in my arms and my hands are quick to find her perfect ass, groping it so I’m able to push her body closer to mine.

“You look pretty fuck-able yourself,” she comments, playing with the top button on my shirt. She undoes it, exposing more of the ink stained into my chest.

“Fuck-able, huh?” I breathe, with my nose pressed to the delicate curve of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Did you not get enough in the shower?”

I can’t see her face, but she smiles—I know she does—and then she hums. “It’s never enough when it comes to you.”

“Careful,” I tell her in a warning tone, “or I’ll throw being a gentleman out the window and watch your tits bounce in my face.”

She smirks, brushing her fingers through my hair, giving it a soft pull. In the process, she knocks the earring that dangles from my ear. She grabs it lightly, tracing the wing-shaped piece of jewelry, commenting, “This is different. It’s hot.”

“You’re hot,” I reply, finally reuniting our mouths. It’s been like a half hour since I came inside her with my mouth pressed to hers while in the shower, but it’s still too fucking long.

Just as my tongue is sliding between her lips, there’s a thump! at the top of the stairs down the hallway and Chase’s voice shouts, “Arielle!” I retract myself from her, but not before pressing another lingering kiss to her mouth. As we pull apart, there’s a loud knock on the door, “Nate, keep it in your pants! We have a birthday girl to ply with alcohol!”

“I’m so fucked tonight,” She exclaims under her breath, staring at the door like she can see Chase standing on the other side.

“By me or the liquor?” I tease, smacking my hand over her ass playfully as she walks away from me.

She purses her lips for a moment, thinking it over. “Probably both, to be honest.” I smile at her response, moving to grab my phone off the dresser and stuffing it in my pocket. Arielle grabs her tiny handbag and opens the door to an antsy Chase.

“Jesus Christ, what’s taking you two so—” he pauses when the door finally opens enough to reveal us. “Well, fuck me, don’t you two look like—fuck, I don’t know—you look like fuckin’ models or something. I feel underdressed now,” he confesses, glancing down at the clothing he’s chosen to wear. A leather jacket that he’ll likely end up taking off, a plain blue shirt, and dark-wash jeans.

“You look great, Chase,” Arielle assures him. “I told Nate to dress up for me.” I approach her from behind, placing my hands on her waist as Chase stuffs a drink into her hand. It appears to be a Long Island iced tea and she thanks him before she begins sucking it back through the straw.

I flick off the light as Arielle grabs my hand to pull me out of the room and down the hall. When we get downstairs, Arielle compliments Zara on how she looks, finishes her drink, takes a shot that Zara hands her and then we’re off in the taxi.

The club is only maybe ten minutes away and when we pull up, it’s busy as fuck. However, Arielle doesn’t seem to mind as we end up in the crowd of people and I buy her a drink, as does Chase.

Eventually, we end up at one of the tables to enjoy the drinks, but Arielle stands in front of me, her hips swaying to the beat of the song that thumps rhythmically around us. I observe her from behind my own beer, swallowing hard when she makes eye contact with me, brushing hair off her shoulder and pushing her ass out in my direction.

I pat my lap, and she smirks before she sits herself on my legs. Putting my lips up to her ear, I tell her, “There are so many eyes on you right now.” I peer around us, noticing at least four men and a woman that can’t seem to tear their gaze off her. And now their gaze is on me as I suck her earlobe between my lips, trailing my tongue down her pulse point.

My touch on her is practically possessive, an indication for everyone around that she’s taken. That she’s mine.