Free Every Part of You: Resists Me by Megan Hart

 
    Simone took Elliott to the place she thought he’d like the least. Loud music, black light, goth decor. Guys in eyeliner, girls in latex dresses. Expensive liquor. Honestly, it wasn’t one of Simone’s favorite places even when she’d been younger and more into this scene, but she could fit in here if she tried. She’d layered her eyes with thick, black shadow and painted her mouth the color of fresh blood. Spiked her hair. The transformation had taken only a few minutes, and she’d looked at Elliott’s face carefully when she came out of the office lobby restroom, watching to see his reaction.
    He hadn’t looked scared.
    She couldn’t get a read on him, but at least she could tell that much. Now, sipping from a bottle of beer while he drank whiskey on the rocks, Simone studied him. He hadn’t so much as loosened his tie. “Wanna dance?”
    Elliott looked like he was at least considering the idea before he slowly shook his head. He lifted his glass toward her. “You go ahead.”
    Simone rolled her eyes and tipped her bottle at him, mirroring what he’d done. “You’re in a dance club. But you’re not going to dance?”
    “Nope.”
    She took a long pull on the beer and set the bottle on the small highboy table an arm’s length away. “Scared?”
    Elliott looked surprised. Then he laughed, cutting his gaze from hers. It was a surprisingly endearing look on him, that hesitant humor.
    “No,” he said. “Should I be?”
    Simone grinned. “I’m a really good dancer. Maybe you can’t keep up.”
    “Maybe.” Elliott finished off the whiskey and signaled to the bartender for another.
    “Maybe,” Simone said, leaning closer, “you just like to watch.”
    Elliott took the glass from the bartender and slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar without looking at her. He drank before giving her his gaze. There was a smile there, too. Not shy. She still couldn’t read him, which intrigued and irritated her. Usually she was better at figuring out the machinations of men. But though she’d seen Elliott in a lot of intimate positions, she had to admit that she really didn’t know him at all. He tipped his head toward the dance floor like he was offering her a challenge and took another slow, deliberate drink.
    Simone hadn’t come here to stand around at the bar all night, that was for sure. Why exactly she had come here, she didn’t want to think about. Didn’t want to give that much power to her emotional reaction to what Aidan had told her. So now she leaned in close enough to smell Elliott’s musky soap scent and feel the heat of his skin on her cheek.
    “When you want me, you’ll know where to find me.”
    Her lips brushed his cheek so close to his mouth that all it would take was him saying a single word for that touch to become a kiss, but Elliott didn’t answer. Simone didn’t wait. With a laugh, she pushed away from him and, looking over her shoulder just once, moved through the crowd to hit the dance floor.
    It was lower than the rest of the club and surrounded by metal railings, making it possible for observers to lean and watch without getting in the way of the dancing. Having an audience had never been Simone’s thing. Voyeur, not exhibitionist. Still, knowing that Elliott was indeed watching her had set her heart to beating just a little faster.
    She loved the song that came on as she hit the dance floor. A steady, grinding industrial beat. Sexy lyrics. It was music made for fucking, and what was dancing but fucking with your clothes on? At least if you were doing it right, she thought with a grin as she gave another glance over her shoulder to see that Elliott had taken up a spot along the railing. His hands gripped the metal. How had she not noticed how big they were?
    Then, she was dancing.
    With herself at first, though after a minute the girl next to her turned to shimmy and shake, easing closer. Simone matched the other woman’s moves. She wasn’t into girls, as a rule, though she