Davin groans in pleasure at the touch of her nails and lets his forehead fall to her bare shoulder, face pressed into her neck, and it's only then that he realizes that he could be sending the wrong message here. At things like this Davin just likes to dance with anyone fun and willing and doesn't give much thought beyond the next song.

But to some people, dancing in a club is just a form of foreplay, and he doesn't want to lead her on. There's also no way to just blurt out that, while she's stunningly gorgeous, he's just not into girls. Or maybe he's being full of himself, thinking someone like her could even be into him at all. Fuck, he should be way too drunk to be this awkward.

"I need a drink," he says into her ear, and then jerks his chin towards the bar. "You in?"