*Isabella POV*
As I turned to face the speaker, my gaze collided with the chiseled features of none other than Jacob. I swear, every damn time I laid eyes on him, he seemed to get even hotter, like a fine wine maturing with age. Tonight, he was downright mouthwatering, his tailored attire accentuating every lean, muscular curve of his body.
I spaced out like a total freaking fool, my mind consumed by all the unholy, filthy things I'd love to do to him. But instead of revealing my excitement, I defaulted to my trusty defense mechanism – being a random, bitchy mess.
"Are these the kind of celebrities that this place allows inside?" I asked, my tone laced with sarcasm. "Not so clever," I added, my eyes locked on Jacob's, who chuckled at my jab. Ricky, however, looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Sir," Ricky ventured, his voice uncertain.
"Yes, she's okay too," Jacob intervened, his gaze never leaving mine. "Both ladies are welcome in my club."
My eyes narrowed, my mind racing with the implications. "Your club, motherfucker," I thought to myself, my inner monologue ripe with incredulity.
As we slid onto the plush stools at the bar, Jacob reached out to assist me with my jacket, his fingers brushing against my collarbone. The fleeting touch sent a jolt of electricity through my body, and I recoiled, startled, my heart racing.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, attempting to play it cool, "I'm just a little...on edge tonight."
Jacob's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, his gaze piercing mine. "Why are you so jumpy, Isabella?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I am only helping you with your jacket."
His words were innocent enough, but the way he said my name, the way his eyes seemed to bore into my soul, made me feel like he could see right through me. I swallowed hard, my mouth dry, as I struggled to maintain my composure.
As we made our way from the bar to the center of the club, I couldn't help but notice the relatively sparse crowd. "This club isn't very crowded," I pointed out, my voice carrying over the music. Elly smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I love it, it's a VIP area," she replied, her tone confident. Jacob chuckled, his eyes glinting with humor. "Yep, that's because you're in the exclusive lounge," he said, his voice smooth. "We passed the main dance floor, and trust me, you don't want to be there," he added, his expression serious.
I raised an eyebrow, my skepticism plain. "If you say so," I retorted, my tone laced with sarcasm. Jacob's eyes locked onto mine, a hint of challenge dancing in their depths. "Are you going to offer us drinks or are you going to continue to be rude?" I asked, my voice firm, making Elly laugh.
"Apologies, ladies," Jacob said, his tone chivalrous, before turning to head to the bar.
"Girl, you are on fire," Elly said, turning to me with a grin. "Guess you did learn something from me today "
" I was being a total rude, bi***, wasn't I?" my thoughts shouted back back at me, trying to maintain my tough exterior. But the truth was, I wanted to do a complete 180. I wanted to thank Jacob for the clothes, to tell him how sweet it was of him to help Elly's family the way he did. And, if I'm being completely honest, I wanted to pounce on him for being incredibly handsome. Instead, I kept up the facade, trying to play it cool.
"Ladies," Jacob said, handing us our drinks. "Isabella, I got you a Martini because I didn't know what you'd like. And for the beautiful driver, a Virgin Colada." Elly rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "It's fine, but one of these days, I'm gonna come here without a car and drink like a sailor," she said, laughing. "As if I'd let you in," Jacob retorted, his tone joking, while I just stood there, watching awkwardly, my inner conflict raging on.
"Is everything alright, sweetheart?" Jacob asked me, his voice low and concerned, and I nodded in reply, trying to muster a smile. "Yes, and thanks for the drink...and the clothes." Jacob's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Did you show her a good time, Elly?" he asked, his tone lighthearted. Elly winked at him, her expression playful. "You know it," she replied, her voice husky.
Jacob nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, ladies—"
But Elly wasn't having it. "No, you don't," she said, cutting him off, her voice firm. "You don't get to bail on us tonight."
Jacob tried to protest, but Elly was relentless. "I have a—"
"—shit," Elly cut him off again, her tone blunt. "Stay with us. Dance with us," she said, busting out some sexy dance moves that left us all in stitches. They burst out laughing, and for a moment, the tension was broken. Jacob chuckled, his eyes shining with amusement, before saying, "Alright, fine. Let me make a phone call."
Jacob walked away, leaving a lingering tension in the air. Elly turned to me, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "What the fuck, Elly? Why did you make him stay?" I shot back, irritation creeping into my voice.
"Don't act like you don't want him to," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I mean, if eyes could fuck—" Her implication hung in the air, thick and undeniable, leaving me utterly speechless.
I had no retort, no witty comeback to deflect her observation. She was absolutely right. I was shamelessly eye-fucking him, lost in a world where our glances sparked a tension that hummed between us.
As the night wore on, Elly swirled gracefully on the dance floor, and Jacob stood nearby, an island of calm amidst the chaos. I nursed my drink—another cocktail, another shot—lost in the rhythm, drawn to a newfound friend who was a delight to dance with, despite the fading daylight. Jacob, however, remained a silent observer, sipping his whiskey, an occasional chuckle escaping his lips as he watched our silly antics.
Yet, beneath the surface of the revelry, a heavy weight settled in my chest. It propelled me to dance closer to him, a mix of liquid courage fueling my boldness. I threw my most sultry moves his way, pushing the envelope, but he remained utterly still. His tension was palpable, each movement of mine met with a rigidity that only deepened my frustration.
I brushed my fingertips lightly along his shoulder, feeling the solidness of him, and ground my hips against him, hoping to induce some reaction. But instead of loosening up, he seemed to tense further, his grip tightening around his glass, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. That was it. I'd had enough. "What's the matter, Jacob?" I shot back, taking his hand and guiding it to my hip, inching impossibly closer. "You own a club and you don't like dancing?"
He leaned in as he gave my hip a gentle squeeze, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "You told me not to touch you, remember?"