Throttled (Dirty Air Series Book 1)

“I can’t believe you scored us tickets for the fashion show. It’s one of the biggest events of the year.” Sophie bounces up and down in a chair. We went on a shopping spree earlier to buy dresses for the event because she claimed what we had wasn’t enough.

“Oh, believe it. We better finish getting ready. The car’s coming in twenty.” I don’t feel guilty about using Sophie as a cockblocker because her enjoyment rubs off on me.

Two birds, please meet my one stone.

I run a hand down the silky material of my blue dress. Looking at it now, I realize the blue matches the color of Noah’s eyes.

Fuck me. A fashion equivalent of a Freudian slip.

I grab my heels and book it out of the hotel room, wanting to get this night over with.

Sophie can’t stop chattering the whole car ride to the oceanfront destination. “Did you know all the guys will be modeling tonight?”

Can’t say I did.

“Are you excited for anyone in particular?” I want to pull any information about her thing with Liam. Sophie hides her attraction well, but I catch the briefest glances she gives him. She tells me they’re “just friends” ever since she pulled that card on him after our fail of a double date.

“Mm, no. Such an odd question. Are you?” She stares at me. Point taken.

We arrive at the fashion show location soon after. A cross-shaped stage floats in the center of a pool, lit from within and emitting a purplish glow. We make out different yachts anchored out in the ocean. The event bustles with enjoyment from the attendees while waiters walk around with food and drinks. Music streams from speakers around us.

“Let’s get a drink. Time to get this party started.” Sophie pulls me toward the bar area.

She handles ordering. “Can we have four shots of your finest tequila?”

My eyebrows rise. Two shots already? “I don’t want to end up a blubbering drunk mess tonight. Tequila makes me embarrassing.” Hard to forget how I cried in a bathroom. I blame the Jonas Brothers and their fourth band member, José.

“Relax.” She pats my arm for good measure. “We can get buzzed now so we can enjoy the show. We won’t have more until the alcohol wears off.”

She slides the two glasses toward me and we knock back the shots.

Sophie was right. This fashion show is way better with a buzz. Guys strut their stuff down the stage, each looking handsome in their different evening wear. I even whistle when Noah comes out. Not my fault he looks beyond fuckable in his tux, which calls out to me.

Whoops. This is the alcohol talking. A slip of the tongue. I do not want to fuck Noah Slade. I nudge Sophie when Liam comes out, his body pressed against the tailor-made suit and his blonde hair slicked back in his usual style. He even points her out of the crowd and sends her a wink. That one is a flirt, and honestly, I have no idea how Sophie resists him because her eyes light up whenever she sees him.

Once the show finishes, Sophie and I get the party started. Sophie bribes the DJ to let us behind his setup. She spins the turntables while I pick out songs from a playlist. We get a few people to bounce up and down, creating a small mosh pit at the center of the dance floor. I don’t think I’ve laughed any harder than I have with her.

A Bandini rep eventually pulls us away from the DJ area after we play our third reggaeton song. Apparently, it’s not well-suited for the elite crowd.

Two older guys ask us to dance and we agree. Not exactly my type but the haze of alcohol says yes for me as they pull us toward the dance floor. Sophie and I aren’t drunk. Only a little on the tipsy side, still managing to stay put together.

A crowd of dancing couples engulfs us. I dance around with a middle-aged man who has gelled-back hair and smells strongly of alcohol. My eyes search for Sophie between songs, but I can’t find her. The man’s hand creeps its way toward my ass at the same moment I conveniently step on his toes. Hard. He lets out a yelp while I fake an apology.

Music shifts to a classic salsa song DJs play at our clubs back home. A shadow looms over my dance partner. By now, I can recognize the reason for the tingle in my spine anywhere. Two months of resisting him does that. Strobe lights basking him in an ominous glow, my naughty knight in a shining tux sizes up my pervy dance partner.

“Mind if I cut in?” Noah’s irritated voice carries over the music. Or am I hearing things? Alcohol confuses my brain.

The man sputters out a reply as he lets me go. Noah grabs my hand while placing another at the dip in my back right above my ass. It feels way less invasive than my previous dance partner, like his hand should be there. Plus, Noah doesn’t smell like whiskey and old money. He needs to bottle up his scent and sell it on the mass market. I would buy a few bottles and spray it on my pillows at night, not creepily of course.

I smile at the idea. Real mature, Maya.

He shakes his head like he can’t believe the sorry state I’m in at the moment. He and I both.

I place a hand on his shoulder. His tux feels smooth under my fingertips, the strained material pressing against his muscles.

“I thought you were avoiding me because I haven’t seen you at any of the events this week.”

I think out my reply carefully. Well, as carefully as alcohol allows me to.

“Where did you learn to dance salsa?” Suave change of subject if I do say so myself.

His deep laugh makes me feel all warm inside.

“I lived in Europe long enough to pick up on it.” He sways us to the music.

A kernel of jealousy blossoms at the idea of Noah dancing with other girls.

“Hmm. Cool.” I feign indifference, but I can’t tell if I succeeded.

Noah turns me, pulling my back to his front. My ass presses against his crotch as his hand runs down my arm.

“Uh, we learned two different types of salsa. They didn’t teach me this in class.”

The rumble of his chest is the only response I get.

I look around, curious if anyone else sees this. My body molds into his. A crowd of people dances to the music, oblivious of Noah’s advances as his stiff cock presses against my ass cheeks. I press into him, unintentionally of course.

Sign me up for the next confession slot.

Turns out Noah seems into this back and forth, or lack thereof. He moves us along to the music. One of his hands presses on my hip, holding me flushed against him while his other hand pushes my hair away from my neck.

“Did you wear that color dress for me?” His husky voice makes my head swim. How can he tell what color my dress is when it’s dark outside?

“It’s navy. What do you mean?” Okay, it isn’t. But boys suck at knowing anything beyond basic colors.

“Hmm, weird. On your Insta story it looked like the same color as my eyes. But maybe I’m wrong, just seeing things.”

“That’s often a sign of narcissism. You should get yourself checked out when you have a chance. I don’t do everything to appease you.” Unfiltered words flow from my mouth.

He shuts me up by pushing his rigid length into me. I groan at the feeling, my body heating up at his boldness.

“Tell me you’re not affected by this connection between us.” His husky whisper sends a shiver down my spine. He trails a finger down the length of my throat to my collarbone, stopping right above my cleavage.

No way I will admit anything to him.

“Not sure what you’re talking about. Do you try this with all your floozies?” Who the hell says floozies anymore? Alcohol makes me stupid. So, so stupid.

“I think you know.” His hands grip me possessively as our hips move to the music. I withhold a moan as my head rolls back into his chest, his dick pressing into my ass, a hint at the size of him.

He blows hot air into the shell of my ear, causing my core to pulse with need. My body burns wherever he touches, his fingers skimming down the smooth material of my dress. A delicate layer protecting my body from his touch.

“You drive me crazy. I keep thinking about fucking you, wondering how you sound when you explode in ecstasy. The moans you’ll make while you greedily take my cock. Is it breathy? Loud?”

My stomach flutters at the sensation of his teeth grazing my ear lobe. I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck, his lips trailing kisses down the curve of it. His touch makes me pant. My resolve slips, begging me to give into him.

Take me home, I want to say. But I don’t, letting my body say the words my mouth can’t get out.

It’s a problem for future me.

What’s one night with him? We’re adults who can keep a secret.

Noah senses my submission. His lips press against the hollow of my throat, his tongue darting out to taste me, making my body shudder as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

Someone grabs my hand and tugs me away, cold air hitting my skin in Noah’s absence. He growls at the intrusion.

“Maya, just the girl I’ve been looking for. Your brother is searching for you. You remember him, right? Noah’s teammate.” Sophie emphasizes her words. How did she even find us in this crowd, a cluster of bodies dancing together?

I shake away the lust-induced cloud. Music thumping in the background washes over me, reminding me of where we are. Dance lights illuminate my shoes. If I click them together, can I go home?

“I better get going. Sister duties and all. Thanks for the dance,” my voice rasps.

Whatever we did is nothing like any dance I’ve experienced in my life. My eyes meet Noah’s intense ones, a swirl of lust and frustration evident even in the dark.

“This isn’t over.” His husky voice hints at a promise.

“It is for now, Romeo. Let’s go, Juliet.” Sophie pulls me away, proving herself to be the best cockblocker.

She keeps her cool until we find an empty corner.

“Uh, where’s my brother?”

“Who the heck knows. I needed an excuse to get you out of there before you and Noah screwed each other on the dance floor. What happened to you staying away from him? I was practically fanning myself while watching the two of you.” She demonstrates with her hands.

My lips tip up in a smile. “I didn’t peg you for a voyeur.”

“You’re not using your shitty evasion techniques on me. I see through them a mile away; don’t insult my talents. Are you trying to get with him or avoid him? You need to decide.” She taps her sneaker on the ground and crosses her arms. A ridiculous look only Sophie can pull off, her fluffy dress and white sneakers shining in the dark.

“I don’t really know.” I shrug because I genuinely don’t know what to make of this thing between Noah and me. An out-of-control magnetism I can’t describe.

“You guys were a modern-day Dirty Dancing scene. I don’t buy it. What are you going to do about this thing between you both?”

“Uh, ‘thing’ is a bit of a stretch. That’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to each other. Attraction, yes. Thing, no.” I shake my head from side to side.

Her elevated eyebrow fails to reassure me. “You’re into your brother’s teammate. And rival I might add.”

“No,” I stutter. My weight shifts from foot to foot. “I’m sexually attracted to him. Not like into him as a person because I barely know him.”

“Right.” She draws the word out. “We’ll have to keep you away from him.”

“We?” My turn to be confused.

“Liam and I. Duh. That’s what friends do.”

Never have I been so thankful for a friend. Sophie and I stumble out of the party hand in hand, leaving behind sucky decisions and bad boys.