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His grin was pure mischief as he leaned in closer, his lips at the shell of my ear, just like he’d done in the restaurant yesterday. God, that had made me feel things I so shouldn’t feel for my best friend, and even now, damn him, it felt good to be this close. To have him holding me this way, to smell his incredible earthy scent that reminded me of sage and mandarin.
“Maybe that’s right where I want you,” he teased, and my heart stuttered in my chest. He stayed right where he was, holding our bodies flush as we swayed to the music.
Heat licked beneath my skin, my body firing with sensation everywhere our bodies touched. We’d danced together countless times before at events or galas, but it had never felt like this. Warmth unfurled in my core the more we moved, and I found myself rolling my hips to the music right along with him. My heart raced, my skin flushing as his hands roamed over me in a possessive way they never had before.
Was he practicing for our little scheme next week? Or was he actually enjoying himself?
No, he couldn’t be. This was Brad. He’d never, not once, acted like he was interested in me like that, and besides, I couldn’t possibly be entertaining the idea of something with him, right? My body was just reacting to being touched like this, held like this.
Brad spun us again but kept us flush, my breasts grazing his hard chest, making me gasp. God, he felt so good, his hard body aligning with all the soft parts of mine. I clung to him, my eyes fluttering up to his.
Something charged snapped between us as I met his gaze, and I couldn’t help it, I looked at his lips and allowed myself to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
Something shifted in his gaze, and he lowered his head ever so slightly—
We were knocked to the side, someone bumping into Brad’s side.
“Sorry, man!” a Reaper said as he righted himself, clapping Brad on the back. Brad waved him off before the Reaper headed off the dance floor.
The shift in view allowed me the perfect glimpse of—
“Omigod,” I said, gasping as I whirled Brad around. “Look!”
Brad followed my line of sight. “Looks like Zoe is fully embracing the mask effect,” he said, both of us gaping as we watched Zoe being led up the stairs by a tall, dark, and fully masked individual. They didn’t stop at the second level or the third either, instead disappearing somewhere near the roof-top access spot.
Brad and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised before we both grinned. “Good for her,” I said.
“Hell yeah,” Brad agreed. “She needs a little fun in her life, especially with how much she works herself to death. Like someone else I know,” he said, nudging me.
“I love my work,” I fired back.
“So do I,” he said. “But you still have to make time for the fun.”
“I am. We’re going on vacay, remember?”
“Which is also work for me,” he said.
“Not for me. I’m going to indulge in all the perks of being a millionaire’s fiancé,” I teased.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, pulling me back into his arms to pick up our dance.
“Yep. You already agreed to the dessert clause,” I said. “Bring your big bucks because I’m going to eat everything.”
Brad laughed, holding me a little closer. “Whatever you want,” he said, sending me straight back to our earlier conversation when I’d teased him about writing mandatory dessert into our little deal.
He was more than open to anything I suggested and totally supportive, and with the way he was dancing with me? It only made me wonder just how supportive and open he’d be in other areas.
What if I’d asked him for something spicy in the bedroom—if he was my fake fiancé, anyway. It’s clear he wouldn’t react like Dennis, which had always been fifty shades of judgmental. Brad would never make me feel ashamed of asking for something different.
Maybe it was the drink I’d had earlier or the fun, playful way we’d been chatting before, but I couldn’t stop my mind from whirling with the possibilities. It was pure fantasy, since things between Brad and me had never been that way before, but I didn’t deny myself the comfort I felt right now.
Because that’s how he made me feel—there was heat and fire and need too—but comfort. Because while Brad and I danced, while I was in his arms, I knew for a fact nothing could touch me. Not the memories of Dennis or the embarrassment I felt over how things ended. Not the unknown of the future or the agony of the present. Here, with Brad, I was safe.
Safe to be the truest version of me, and that was more intoxicating than the one drink I’d had.
