“Actually, I should probably go call my fiancé,” I say to Verek, unable to meet his gaze again as I stare at his chest.
“One more song,” he says, tightening his grip that’s moved around to the small of my back. As he dips down to my height, he wedges his thigh between my legs and presses me tightly to his body so that I can feel every hard inch. I should walk away now, but I did ask him to dance and we haven’t even finished one song yet.
“So, um, do you have a Harley too?” I ask over the music, trying to think of some small talk.
“I do. It’s parked out back,” he says, his lips near my ear again. “Want to go for a ride?”
“Sounds fun,” I answer, neither accepting nor declining his offer. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”
“I promise, once you climb on, it’ll be nearly impossible to get off,” he replies seductively, making me shiver. Verek’s beard barely brushes over my cheek once more, causing goose bumps to break out down my arms and legs and everything in between.
“I-I have a fiancé,” I remind him, even though he obviously couldn’t have forgotten in thirty seconds.
“Then why did you want to dance with me?” he asks, his fingertips trailing up and down my spine, right over my zipper teasingly.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Sure you do, sweetheart,” his deep voice responds confidently. “There’s a big difference between cold feet and a cold pussy. If he’s not fucking you right, I could help you forget his name before the end of the night,” he says as his damp lips do dirty, naughty things to my neck that has me gasping and panting. It’s impossible to not imagine his talented mouth someplace much, much lower doing the exact same thing.
Instead of pushing him away like I should, I involuntarily tilt my head to the side and let him keep at it, enjoying it too much to stop him.
Verek intentionally rolls his hips to the song playing in a way that ensures I feel how hard and long he is against my stomach. Just as I expected, he is so freaking big. It would be incredibly easy to cave, to let him hike up the bottom of my dress and unzip his pants so that our bodies could do their own wicked dance.
But I would have to throw away a lifetime of happiness for one hot night. I’m smarter than that. Paul and I will eventually find our passion after we’re married.
“I-I can’t do this,” I say when I reluctantly push against Verek’s chest, putting a foot of space between us. “I, um, I need to go get some air, and you need to find someone to take home who isn’t wearing a ring!”
As I start to hurry to the stairs, I hear him call out behind me, “If that ring meant anything to you, if he was right for you, then you wouldn’t be looking for someone else to dance with.”
Maybe the guy who just met me is right. Maybe Paul isn’t the one for me. I still love him, though, that much I’m certain of.
My head is so confused as I hurry down the stairs and out the door, past the bouncer and the line of people waiting to get into the club, that I’m actually dizzy.
The fresh, salty ocean air feels good on my overheating skin as I take a few deep breaths.
I shouldn’t have drunk so much tonight. That’s the only reason I even thought about sleeping with a random man, right?
God, I don’t know. What if it’s not?
I shouldn’t be having these doubts two weeks before our wedding. Is it more than cold feet? No, deep down in my gut I’ve known since the second Paul got down on one knee that we were rushing into things.
Pulling my phone from my crossbody purse, I quickly find Paul’s name and call him even though it’s after midnight.
As the phone rings, I keep strolling past the boardwalk stores that are still open trying to sell drunk tourists overpriced T-shirts and sunglasses, just to keep my feet moving.
Paul doesn’t answer because he’s probably already in bed asleep after the tame bachelor party he was having back in Raleigh with his brother, coworkers, and a few friends.
When his voicemail comes on, I start to just tell him to call me when he gets this message, but that’s not all that comes tumbling out of my mouth.
“Paul, honey, I love you. And I know you love me, but do you think we’re rushing into this?” I ask his voicemail. “The wedding, I mean. It’s in two freaking weeks! I think…I think I need a little more time. I know it would be a big pain in the ass to postpone the wedding but, um, I think maybe we should. Just for a little while!” I quickly add. “A few weeks or a couple of months. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with me. It’s just…it’s been a strange night, so call me when you get this message, okay? I love you,” I say again before I end the call, because I don’t want him to doubt that for a second.
Taking another deep breath, I put my phone away in my purse and turn on my heels to start back to the club, intending to spend the rest of the night with the girls and not a sexy, dirty-talking biker, the perfect man from my darkest fantasies.
I take about three steps before a white van advertising a flooring business slows to a stop next to me. The passenger, a young, dark-haired man with lots of ink on his arm that’s resting in the open window, says, “Hey, girl. Sorry to bother you, but could you tell us where the weird Ripley’s place is?”
“Ah, sure,” I reply. “I think you need to get going toward North Ocean Boulevard. This is South,” I explain.
“North, you say?”
“Yeah, it’s quicker if you turn here and get back on Highway 17 instead of waiting behind the cruising crowd and pedestrians,” I say, pointing the easiest way to get where they need to be. I’ve been vacationing here in Myrtle Beach almost every year in the summer and know my way around pretty well. “Then you’ll just make a right turn on Fifth or Seventh Avenue.”
“You hear that? We need to get on 17 and find Fifth or Seventh Avenue,” the man says to the driver right when the sliding door suddenly opens, and another passenger jumps out along with the man I was talking to. Before I can even blink, there are arms grabbing me from behind, picking me up off my feet and carrying me to the van.
“Stop! What the hell are you doing? Put me down!” I scream as I kick my feet and try to free my arms that are pinned to my sides by the ones holding me. Whoever has me dives headfirst into the back of the van without letting me go. The side of my face lands on the hard floor with all of his weight on top of me.
“We’re in! Go!” someone in the back says as the sliding door slams shut, and the driver takes off.
“Isn’t she a pretty thing,” the man I recognize as the passenger says when he crawls over on his knees and grabs my chin and turns it toward him. “Fuck, I really do love redheads.”
“I-I don’t understand,” I whisper to him.
“I’m going first,” the man on top of me says as he starts unzipping the back of my dress, making my eyes fill with tears. I let out a shriek when he tears it the rest of the way so that it loudly rips in two and the cool air hits my back.
“You know exactly what we’re going to do to you,” another man says with a toothy grin when he approaches, taking my phone out of my purse. “Don’t forget to wrap it up, man,” he says to his friend. “We don’t know where this bitch has been, and we can’t leave any DNA in case someone finds her body before Donnie takes care of it.”