𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

００７．

Ren had rules for herself, ones that she had followed for years now. They were good rules.

No free samples for clients, no socializing with clients beyond the sale, no accepting IOUs or late payments. No drinking enough to get drunk, no dating, and no sleepovers with hook-ups -- especially not at her place. No dancing at the club, because it had too much potential to be embarrassing, and no PDA, because it was guaranteed to be embarrassing.

She'd already broken rules for him.

She wondered how many more she'd break before the end of the night as she led him onto the dance floor, keenly aware of his hand resting on her hip and his body hovering just an inch or so behind hers.

Across the floor, Ren could see Vanessa returning to the table they'd abandoned with more shots than any of them had any business taking. She watched as Ness scanned the club, found her standing with Rafe, and brought a hand to her mouth. Whether it was in shock or excitement, Ren couldn't tell. Vanessa jumped up and down, shouting something that Ren couldn't hear over the music, and then proceeded to take one of the shots. And then two, three, four more.

Ren might have gone back over there to beg her friend to slow down if Vanessa hadn't disappeared into the crowd after downing one last shot. That was fine. She'd find her friend later.

Yeah, definitely later -- because now, as she glanced over her shoulder at that bewildering, gorgeous boy she'd only just met that afternoon, something had changed in his face, something exciting. And god, those eyes -- she hadn't noticed before, but they were blue-gray, like a fucking storm cloud, and there was lightning in them now as he stared down at her with that crooked grin on his face.

Something told her he didn't smile often. Not like that.

Something told her that Rafe didn't do anything like this often. He seemed vaguely out of his element as his other hand found her other hip and he tugged her against him, her back flush against his front.

There was no denying that she was out of her element just as much as he was, if not more, as she began to move to the pace of the music, setting a pace that he followed easily. Ren allowed herself to lean back against the broadness of his chest, to melt into his feather-light touch as he moved with her.

She wasn't sure when, or what triggered it, but something had shifted in him. She had looked at him to find him sitting straighter than before, all of the tension in him nearly uncoiled, confidence all but pouring off of him. He'd seemed lighter. Happier, maybe, than he'd been when he walked in.

She didn't know him well enough to really be able to tell for certain. But she knew that the boy who had caught her attention because of how tightly-wound he'd been that morning was suddenly not so tightly-wound anymore, at least not for a moment. So when Rafe had asked her to dance, she couldn't quite find a good enough reason to tell him no.

Plus, to her own surprise, she wanted to. 

Ren barely felt the coke anymore, and the shots she'd taken with Vanessa did next to nothing. She was stone-cold sober, or close enough to it, and unable to escape the nervousness that crept up in situations like this.

It had been a long time since someone had captured her interest like this. Even longer since a man who wasn't Cain had touched her like this.

And touch her he did, his hands roaming her waist, the flare of her hips, her thighs as they danced. Each drift of his calloused palms over her skin was assured, and Ren could barely suppress the shiver that skittered down her spine beneath his touch.