I'm not going anywhere, I WANT this hottie!

The beat is thrumming through my chest, through my bones, through my blood. I’m alive in a way I haven’t felt in forever — like my skin is vibrating and every flicker of light and heat around me is begging me to move. To want.

I look again at her, the redhead goddess owning dancefloor.

And suddenly, I don’t give a shit about the music, the drinks, the heat. Not even about Monica, who’s calling my name somewhere behind me. But all I see is her.

Monica tugs at my wrist, voice raised just enough to cut through the noise.

“Hey—come on. Let’s get a drink. I wanna talk.”

I glance at her. Just for a second.

Then back at the redhead.

No. No fucking way am I walking away from that. If I had no issue flirting with her boyfriend, I'm not going to back down now.

“Go without me,” I say, brushing Monica off. “I’m good here.”

She stares, confused. Maybe a little hurt. But I don’t have time to explain. I don’t want to. I want her.

Her body rolls with the music like she was born for it. Like the crowd dances around her, not with her. Every fucking movement she makes is hypnotic. Wild and deliberate, all at once. She’s not trying to look sexy. She is sexy in such a effortless, dangerous way.

My mouth is dry and my thighs clench. I can’t take my eyes off her as I step onto the dancefloor like I’m moving underwater. She sees me coming. Those green eyes flick to mine, and something flashes there. Not surprise or amusement.

Recognition. Like she was waiting.

I fall into rhythm with her and I'm not imitating or following her moves, but matching. Her body sways and mine answers. It’s instinct, not performance. I don’t even know how I’m moving like this, I've never been a star of the dancefloor but tonight, I feel like a million dollar babe with all eyes focused on us.

She smiles — slow, teasing. Like she’s seeing the real me now. And maybe I am too.

“You're bold. You don’t scare easy, do you?” she says, close to my ear, her voice cooler than I expect — almost too smooth. The slight touch of something European in her voice only adds to her extraordinary magnetism.

“Should I be scared?”

“Most people are, for some reason. Or they pretend not to be.”

“I’m not most people.”

It comes out sharper than I meant, edged with challenge. But her smile just widens like she likes that.

“Name?”

“Thalia.”

“Nice. Ariadne.”

She says it like a promise.

Her hand brushes mine — brief, but there. Her touch is cool and tender. I wouldn't say she's hesitant, just controlled. Like she’s tasting the moment, not rushing it. But me?

_I’m fucking starving. _I don't know why, but I really want this chick. And I have a feeling there's no need for slow flirting and needless games. Nope, that won't be necessary this time.

I close the distance, my body pressing to hers, and tilt my head just enough so our lips are almost touching. She doesn’t pull away.

I kiss her.

She tastes like something I can’t describe — not like any boy I kissed, obviously. Cool lips, soft mouth, and then pure heat as she kisses me back hard. Her tongue finds mine and we're not just kissing, we're making out. Straight down to business.

I don't behave like this normally, and even in my wild years I've never acted so fast, but this... this is fucking perfect.

Her fingers dig into my hips, and I bury mine in her hair, tugging her closer. I don’t even care if people are watching. Let them. I’ve never wanted someone this badly. Not a guy, not a girl, not anyone.

God, what the hell was I doing chasing stupid boys all these years? Drunk hookups with forgettable guys, hoping one of them would make me feel something?

This is something. She’s something. She makes me feel like I’m on the edge of something massive, something dangerous. And I don’t want to back away.

She moans softly into my mouth and it makes my knees weak.

I break the kiss just enough to catch my breath, my lips brushing hers, and I whisper,

“Come with me.”

I grab her hand — it’s cool and strong in mine — and lead her off the floor. She follows without a word.

There’s a haze in my head, like I’m drunk on her. It’s not like I'm in love and it’s not only lust. It’s something deeper, maybe darker? Like I’ve waited my whole life to meet someone like her and I didn’t even know it.

I shove open the back door and we stumble into the night together, the bass still thudding faintly behind us.

The air outside is cooler, but not enough to kill the heat between us. I press her against the wall and kiss her again, hard, rough, needy. She responds in kind.

I don't know what's going through my head, all I know is that I want her here and now.