«We find our way back to each other. Always have, always will»

.Chapter 1

Aliena

My eyes are closed. My hips are swaying. My head is tilted back against the broad chest of the man behind me.

His hands are on my hips, holding me without restricting my movements like he knows I like. I’m dancing, I’m leading, and we’re both getting something out of it. Me, the comfort of being held and the validation of his attraction. Him, well, the kind of dancing that could pass as a lap dance from one hell of a woman.

The loud music and pounding beat warm my blood, intoxicating me like no drink or drug ever could. I can feel it in my veins, that familiar hum that I crave. This is me. The music, the parties, the hands on me. This is where I’m free.

The fingers splayed on my hips give me a little squeeze and Mattheo’s head comes down next to the side of mine. “I’m sorry, Seduttrice, I can never keep up with you. What do you say we take a small break?” he asks, pushing my messy hair over my shoulder so he can speak into my ear. I enjoy the way his words brush against my skin, letting the sensation add to the warm bundle of feelings inside me. Then I turn to him with a smile, take his hand, and nod.

He easily pushes past the crowd of dancing people, towering over them all and finding his way to the base of the stairs without a problem. Meanwhile, little old me has to dodge two elbows in the course of the short trip to avoid a bloody nose. Tall men should really have a separate section on the dancefloor to go crazy because they do not have any spatial awareness when it comes to anything below their chin.

The security guy making sure no one gets to the second floor of the apartment without permission barely glances at Mattheo before stepping aside for us. Another perk of keeping company with the host’s best friend.

As we climb the stairs, I watch the dancing strangers below through the glass railing, smiling since I know I’ll be back among them in no time. It’s not often that I’m away from the dancing crowd.

Mattheo and I walk into the private room on the second floor, heading for one of the black leather couches assembled in a sort of circle. Our friends and some people I know in passing are already seated there, nursing their drinks and talking in the blue glow of the LEDs above.

When Lilianne sees us, her flushed face lights up. “Aly!” she exclaims, clumsily freeing herself of her boyfriend’s hold to greet me with a tight hug. As if we hadn’t come here together a few hours ago.

“You were gone for so long! I missed you!” she announces, her words drawn out and slurred. Her grubby hands come up to cup my face, as if to hold it in place when it’s really her swaying. I bite back a grin as she turns to my friend. “You need to stop stealing my friend!”

Mattheo laughs and gives her a gentle pat on the arm. “Sweetheart, she is the one always keeping me away. The woman never tires of dancing. Keep her, I need a break and a drink.” He winks at me and walks over to Andrew. I can still hear him ask his friend, “Did you miss me? How come I’m never greeted that nicely?” over the music before Lily demands my full attention.

“Come, let’s sit down,” she proposes and starts pulling me to the couches without waiting for a reply. Chuckling, I follow her lead. When we sit down on the couch next to the guys’ and I note Andrew’s frown, I elbow Lily gently.

“I think your boyfriend misses you,” I tell her.

“I sure do,” Andrew pipes up, his dimples showing. Once again, I can’t help but notice how handsome he is. Light brown skin, sharp cheekbones, shortly shorn black hair, and dark, friendly eyes. His grin is ever-lasting, and it’s a damn good thing too with my best friend being who she is. Not only is she the most gorgeous, flawless woman I know, but she’s a walking ray of sunshine. It’s good to see her with a man that matches the happy energy she exudes.

Lily throws her arms over me. “You had me for hours now. Enjoy the break, my bestie needs some love too.” Andrew has the grace to chuckle it off, even though I’m sure he doesn’t exactly need a break from her. They’re glued together by the hips most days, a fact both seem to be very happy about.

“And what have I been giving her for the past hours?” Mattheo demands playfully.

“I don’t know. Probably the tingles and damp underwear,” Lily replies before I can fire anything back. My jaw drops and Mattheo’s laughter booms.

“Christ, Lil!” I mutter, stifling a laugh of my own. Here she is, my shy, introverted, sweet best friend after a drink or two.

My eyes meet Mattheo’s awaiting ones and I’m tempted to stick out my tongue like a child at his raised brow and knowing smile. Idiot.

A guy from a nearby couch pops our little bubble, screaming over the music to be heard across the room. “Eyo! Mat, A, where’s Sebastian? Haven’t seen him all night. I wanted to thank him for putting me on the VIP list,” he explains loudly, throwing his head back to get his blond hair out of his eyes.

Andrew shrugs dismissively. “He’s out tonight.”

“Ditching his own party? The lucky lady must be a dream in bed, then,” the blond adds, grinning crookedly.

Mattheo is still watching me but now, I avert my eyes. I have no reason to, there is absolutely no sense in me feeling my mood dim or for the small kernel of guilt or jealousy to appear in my gut. Sebastian is out with a girl as always. I’m enjoying a party as always.

I’m aware of Mattheo’s movements as he gets off the couch and heads to the bar. On the way, he stops next to me, puts a hand on my shoulder to get me to look at him, and asks, “You want something too? It’s important to stay hydrated if we’re going go back downstairs in a minute.”

I smile gratefully. This is why I love this guy; he can read me like a book and is smart in the way he cheers me up. He sees my mood dims and asks me to dance. Problem eviscerated. I’m easy that way.

“I’ll take whatever you get,” I tell him. Usually, I stay sober at parties, at all other times even more so, but a drink every now and again isn’t off-limits in my book.  

Mattheo comes back with our drinks, hands me one before reclaiming his seat. Our group picks up where we left off with our banter like we were never interrupted. Then, when my drink is finally empty, I get to my feet and force the Italian to come back downstairs so we can get moving.

We return to our earlier spot amidst the crowd downstairs, where I’m fast to resume my dancing. I grind against Mattheo, not caring for the heat or the sweat slicking the back of my neck. Then I turn around and throw my arms around his neck. As well as that works with our eight-inch height difference. He holds me close, swaying along to the music with me while shooting me his signature grin.

“You’re hot as fuck when you look up at me like that, Seduttrice,” he teases me.

I smile wider. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. With your face all flushed and lit up like it always does when you dance. Magnificent.”

“You’re flattering me. You don’t look half bad from down here either. If only it weren’t for that thing hanging from your nose,” I tease him.

He throws his head back and laughs. “There’s nothing in my nose.”

“How can you be sure? I can see it perfectly from where I stand.” I make a show of looking at his perfectly clean nostrils.

“You don’t look nearly disgusted enough for that, that’s how I know. No, you’re still giving me those eyes. I’m sure you wouldn’t if there was something in my nose.”

I raise a challenging brow at that. How bold for him to assume anything about me. “How am I looking at you, exactly?” I ask.

Now his grin widens as if accepting my challenge. He leans down slightly, his lips brushing the shell of my ear once more as he says, “Like you want me to kiss you.” We’re barely dancing now. He studies me closely. “Like you want me to be a really good friend tonight and take your mind off things,” he adds.

I let my eyes close and imagine it. I’m certainly not opposed. No, I’ve had one-night stands with much less appealing suspects, and with Mattheo, I don’t doubt he could make me feel good tonight and go back to being the friend I flirt with tomorrow. We’ve been toying the line with our dancing and teasing for months, anyway, the only action I’ve been getting apart from my rendezvous with myself whenever unbidden thoughts of a man I shouldn’t be picturing with my hand between my legs resurfaced and my restraint wavered. Why not indulge tonight? Maybe this is exactly what I need to stop thinking about someone who’s never been and never will be mine

Soft lips brush against my cheek and the feel of his short stubble has goosebumps awakening on my feverish skin. I open my eyes as he pulls back a little and when our eyes lock, it’s clear we’ve come to the same conclusion.

He cups my cheek with one big palm and brings his lips to mine.

There are no fireworks. No world-changing enlightenment as Mattheo kisses me. Still, my body reacts to the physical contact in a pleasant way. My skin tingles, my lower stomach warms, and at the soft caress of his thumb, my legs become weak.

I’ve been kissed at parties by many but oh so few know how to do it right. They grab my butt and grind against me, anything to take off the edge they’re feeling. They’re unaware of how they make me stop feeling like a person rather than a means to an end. It’s unsatisfying.

Kissing Mattheo isn’t. One of his hands stays on my cheek while his other arm snakes around my back to hold me close. He envelops me and as he does it, he manages to shut out the rest of the party. The rest of the world.

Just with a kiss.

I bring my hands into his hair and angle his face to deepen the moment. I want him closer. Need him to show me more.

Instead, Mattheo pulls away. “Amo, either take it slow or let me take you upstairs. People at Hartford University talk and while I don’t particularly mind, I like the idea of being the only one here that knows how your moans sound. And you seem a moment away from doing just that.” Oh, that infuriating smile. I should’ve kissed it off his face sooner.

“So, take me upstairs,” I provide him with the answer. The second floor consists of the VIP lounge, Sebastian’s bedroom, and some other rooms that only a selected few are allowed to use or stay in. Those selected few are Andrew, Mattheo, Lilianne, and me, by default.

Mattheo takes my hand and walks ahead until we reach the stairs. There, I take the lead until we are in the room I mostly stay in. The door shuts and locks behind Mattheo, the automatic low lights embedded in the ceiling turning on to cast an intimate glow over us.

The air around us changes, the playfulness morphing into something deeper. The grin is no longer on Mattheo’s face. Instead, his eyes turn almost feline as he takes measured steps toward me. He cups my face with both of his hands, enveloping my cheeks entirely. “You are sure about this, Amo? We are on the same page?”

“A casual, mutually beneficial one-night stand between friends that have chemistry. I don’t get shit mixed up, Mattheo. Do you?” I challenge him, bringing my hands to his shoulders to caress their breadth with my nails.

Now he’s grinning again, shaking his head like he can’t believe me. “I should have known better than to even ask. I call you Seduttrice for a reason, after all.”

Before he can keep talking, I stand on the tips of my toes and pull him down the rest of the way so I can kiss him again. My shoes elevate me a few inches, but the man still has to lean down to reach my lips. He seems to notice the inconvenience and decides to take matters into his own hands, bringing them to the backs of my thighs and picking me up easily. I go along with it and lock my legs around his slender hips.

Thank god for years of his swimming practice. His body feels lethal under my touch. He’s solid muscle, but not in a threatening way. Not like a certain man who owns the apartment. No, Mattheo is lean and defined in a delicious way. I’ve been to enough of his tournaments to know exactly what he looks like. Now it’s time to learn how he feels.

I grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. As soon as the fabric’s gone, he tries to bring his lips back to mine but I pull away. “Give me a second. I’ve been dreaming about this,” I tease him. While dreaming might be an exaggeration, I can’t deny that I have thought closely about his body when we were dancing every now and again, so I will take my time. I carefully move my fingers from his shoulder down over his pecks, feeling every dip and grove under my fingertips. He flexes beneath my touch, and I give him a look. “Really?”

He just shrugs cheekily so I resume my mission to get to know his torso. I feel his ribs, go over his shoulders and down his back, down his spine, back to his flanks. My touch is featherlight, so much so that Mattheo shivers when my digits move over the fine trail of hair vanishing into the waistband of his pants.

“You’re driving me crazy. Stop touching me like I’m made of porcelain, Aliena, I’m not going to break,” he says, his voice low. I meet his eyes and smile.

“I know you won’t. Sometimes it’s nice to be handled with care though, no?” I ask. Knowing how I usually get used for hookups, I don’t want to know how a man like Mattheo is treated. He’s one of the most popular, influential students at that preppy university all my friends go to. On top of that, he looks like he does.

He’s a trophy.

And I’m not saying he doesn’t enjoy how women treat him or that he minds his one-night stands. I just think at times, we don’t realize what we crave. If only for a change.

The tall man looks thoughtful as he holds my gaze, but I didn’t come here to lecture him or even talk. No, we’ve been in here for many long minutes and most of our clothes are still on. That’s not my style.

One corner of my lips tips up as my hands leave his warm skin. I bring them to the bows holding together the straps of my dress on my shoulders and pull on them one by one. The strips of fabric fall to the front and back, exposing my chest completely.

My friend’s eyes drop and he swallows.

“Christ, woman, a warning would be nice the next time,” he tells me despite the need I can hear in his voice. He likes what he sees.

“Maybe it’s time we move this to the bed,” I suggest.

With a nod, he carries me to the bed and sets me down gently on the soft mattress. Then he takes a step back to admire me as I did him.

“Come here,” I instruct, reaching for him. Now, his smirk has returned, and he shrugs his pants off before complying and climbing over me. But not before I got a glimpse at those mouth-watering thighs of his. Maybe I’ll get to kneel between them some other time, touch the defined muscles there like I did with his torse.

“You know how to play, Seduttrice,” he admits before pressing a kiss to the side of my jaw.

“Practice makes perfect,” I say, arching my back just slightly. He understands my command and moves his lips further down, trailing them along the curve of my neck before kissing his way over my cleavage.

“Take off my dress,” my breathy voice orders. That I’m this affected at this early stage of what we’re doing is more confirmation that I haven’t done this in too long. Again, Mattheo is happy to obey and with his help, my long, violet dress is discarded on the bedroom floor in a matter of seconds.

He looks down at me with a grin. “Oh, fuck yes. Red still looks good on you,” he tells me, tugging at my red lace panties.

I smile at the familiar words from his lips as I pull his head back to me and kiss him while his body melts into mine. I spread my legs so his hips fit between them, and when I feel the warmth of his erection through the fabric of our underwear, the heat in my lower stomach turns into tingles.

He’s holding himself up with one arm and has his other hand on my face, kissing me like we have all the time in the world. Meanwhile, I’m getting impatient, no matter how cherished his mindful touches are making me feel.

I take his hand from my face and move it down to the hem of my underwear, feeling bold and accomplished when he hums his approval against my lips. I release his hand and he takes over, stroking my swollen clit over the lace. He repeats that at an unhurried pace, again and again until finally, he pushes the strip covering me to the side.

Two fingers find my entrance and circle it without pushing inside. Then he brings his slick fingers back to my clit and starts rubbing it in earnest. I arch my back at the first circle drawn with just the right pressure, and the faintest moan escapes me. Mattheo swallows it whole.

After minutes of his steady, heavenly assault, I can feel my skin growing clammy with a sheen of sweat. Then, his fingers move away and find their way back to my entrance just as he breaks the kiss. Our eyes lock as he pushes them inside of me and I recognize the satisfaction in his eyes when he draws another moan out of me with a well-placed stroke against my g-spot.

I grab his shoulders and pull him down so I can whisper into his ear, not trusting my voice to be louder than that anymore. “I’m ready, Mattheo. You can feel that I am. Stop playing and be the good friend you promised me you’d be.”

When he pulls away to look at me, his smirk is back with full force. “I thought that’s what I’ve been doing for several minutes now,” he says. He enunciates that with another stroke against my g-spot. And another.

His fingers curl inside of me at a steady pace until I can feel my legs grow weak and the tingles explode in my womb, reaching the tips of my fingers and toes. I tense underneath him and close my eyes to catch a break from the intense look in his eyes. Then, I come with his name on my lips.

“Am I being a good friend yet?” Mattheo asks, pulling his fingers out of me.

“I don’t know. Better keep trying.” I’m still catching my breath, so my snappy reply lacks in delivery. My friend has the decency not to call me out on it. Instead, he arches an amused brow.

“I guess I better,” he agrees. He makes good on his words, taking off both of our remaining clothes while I take a condom out of the bedside drawer. The box is still unopened since I barely ever stay the night here and certainly not with someone else. Not until now.

I open the foil and put on the condom for him as his eyes follow the movement. When his impressive length is covered, I give it a gentle stroke. He curses, pulls my hand away, kisses it, and then pins it to the mattress above my head. “I’m going to be the best fucking friend you’ve ever had, Amo,” he promises as he brings his tip to my entrance.

“I don’t doubt it,” I whisper. Then my eyes flutter shut with his first thrust, my lower half struggling to accept his intrusion. He bottoms out and holds still for a second, breathing deeply while his body thrums with energy.

“Don’t hold back, Mattheo. I can take it,” I encourage him, desperate for him to move. His eyes meet mine with a mischievous glint.

“Big, big words for such a small thing,” he mutters. Any retort dies on my lips as he starts moving, pulling nearly all the way out of me before shoving back inside. One hand stays on my pinned wrist while his other holds my hip in place. I merely lie there and hang on for the ride, happy to let him lead.

But as our breathing grows harsher and soft moans start climbing from my throat, something interrupts the otherwise silent room.

A knock on my door.

Mattheo’s movements falter for a beat and the lustful haze clears from his eyes a little. He looks at me with a questioning gaze. “Don’t you dare stop,” I hiss at him, already feeling the tingles that have been building over the past fifteen minutes recede. Whoever’s at the door will leave if there’s no reply, I’m sure.

Mattheo shoots me a quick smile and then goes back at it, bringing his lips to mine as he fucks me into the mattress. When the person at my door knocks again, we don’t react at all. Some small part of my mind is wondering who the hell it could be, though.

“Aliena?” One word through the wooden door that should hardly meet my ears. And yet, that voice rings through loud and clear. An unexpected rush washes over me, my body wrecked by an answering shiver.

I close my eyes as a vision crosses my mind too fast for me to stop it. A vision of his words brushing against the shell of my ear rather than through the wooden barrier, one of him moving over me, his dark eyes holding mine. A moan tears from my lips before I can swallow it and I wrenched my eyes open to try and escape this unwarranted fantasy of a man I shouldn’t like.

Mattheo recognizes the voice of his best friend too and his eyes open once again, meeting my wide ones even as he doesn’t stop moving. There’s a challenge in his gaze, something knowing and wicked, perhaps feeling the flood of my arousal at the sound of Sebastian’s voice. I should be ashamed, should be embarrassed that he caught me being turned on by his best friend while he was inside of me, but the glint in his eyes tells me he doesn’t mind at all. That he isn’t surprised or offended. It’s wicked and sinful and what draws the first true moan from me.

The knocking lets up for a second only to return twice as harshly. “Aliena? I know you’re in there, the door is locked and only you have the key. Open up!” Sebastian demands, irritation clear in his voice.

Mattheo smiles cockily and whispers in my ear. “Yes, Aliena, open the door,” he taunts. I clench around him, moaning even louder now as if my body just couldn’t control it.

Sebastian hears it. He bangs more. “Is someone in there with you? I swear to god, Aliena, open the fucking door! This is myapartment!” he rages outside. And, god, I’m becoming unhinged, moaning again. Unbidden images of him standing out there his chest heaving and his eyes dark with rage flash through my mind as I flutter around Mattheo. Is that what he would look like fucking me? Would his voice be as rough then?

Oh god! What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be fantasizing about him. I shouldn’t think of him when he’s what I came here to forget. I shouldn’t care for his voice and I sure as hell shouldn’t be hearing it when he knows I’m in here with someone. We aren’t together. Jesus Christ, we don’t even get along and never have in all the months I’ve been forced to get to know him. Not once after our first meeting.

“Aliena!” his voice booms, shaking now. I shouldn’t like it. Shouldn’t care what he sounds like when he loses control, and yet I can’t deny the warm tingles spreading through me. “Open the fucking door! I won’t leave until you do!” he announces. I bite my lip to stifle another sound. There’s no need for me to urge him on.

Mattheo’s finger drags my bottom lip from between my teeth, his intention clear. Let him hear. Then, he turns his head to the door and yells, “You better not! Keep shouting, dude. She’s loving it!” Then he winks at me.

A shockwave of heat and shame washes over me and I can feel my inner walls pulse around Mattheo’s cock. This time, he groans. “That’s it, Amo,” he tells me.

“Mattheo?” Sebastian’s disbelieving voice comes from outside the room. The banging resumes. “What the fuck! Open the fucking door, you sad excuse of a friend!”

“In a sec. We’re getting her there,” he shouts back, thrusting deeper and faster now. Holy shit, I can hear Sebastian curse outside but gradually, his voice begins to fade to background noise as the sensations become too much for my body.

Pleasure washes over me in waves and I close my eyes, feeling every muscle tense. Stars dot my vision and I distantly feel my mouth open. I think my lips move on a cry but the sound doesn’t register to my own ears.

I come back to myself with heaving breaths and numb limbs. Above me, Mattheo is catching his breath as well, so I guess he tipped over the edge with me. He slowly pulls out of me with one last peck and discards the condom. The banging on my door hasn’t stopped.

I join Mattheo as he puts on his clothes. “Want me to give you a ride home or are you staying here?” he asks me, acting as if his best friend wasn’t on the verge of knocking the door down.

I mirror him, ignoring the sound. “I’m not staying here.” Then, seeing as we both have our clothes back in place, I step up to the door with a deep breath. It’s a shame I have to open it now and face the menace on the other side when the whole point of this was to forget his existence for just one blissful moment. Although that ship had sailed the second his voice pierced the air of my bedroom, clearly. Mattheo gives me an encouraging nod and I unlock the door to reveal the owner of the house.

Sebastian William Henderson, son of William Henderson, dean of Hartford University. One of the most influential and richest students among all the other snobs at the university as well as the most popular, thanks to the parties he regularly throws.

In my opinion, he’s also the most infuriating, although I do only know a handful.

I look at his flushed, angry face and his heaving chest and try to see what the others do. A broad, 6-foot-1 frame of pure muscle, courtesy of the private gym in the apartment where he takes his anger out, dark hair, shorter on the sides and longer on top, and dark, menacing eyes currently burning into me. He looks good, yeah. That was never in question.

As was the weird chemistry between us, which he seemed fine with on our first meeting, not so much on any of the others, though.