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Her hand drops and her lips pucker up. "What was I supposed to think? You've been standing here for the past thirty minutes, looking like you've got a broken heart.”
Just as she finishes talking I see from my peripheral vision, the dude's other hand trying to rest on Harper's ass. She seems to sense it as she tries to put some space between them, but he doesn't pick up on the subtle no.
"What do you say," I hear the grating voice in my ear again, "should we leave this place?"
Ignoring red nails, I make my way through the crowd, shoving them out of the way until I end up next to Harper and the other guy. All it takes for him to leave her alone and walk away is a tap on the shoulder and a deadpan look.
"What are you doing?" Harper wraps her arms around her body, putting a noticeable distance between us.
"Dancing with you," I don't bother beating around the bush.
I did that when she suddenly stopped dancing because I didn't want her to know how I felt. However, I'd rather be vulnerable for one night than go through the torture of watching someone else put his hands on Harper.
She scoffs.
"Dancing with—did I tell you I wanted to dance with you? We already tried that because you wanted to prove a point. Why did you send him away?"
I take one step forward and then another as she moves backward until we're tightly woven into the crowd of grinding, gyrating bodies, and there's nowhere else to go.
"You didn't want to dance with him."
Her eyebrows climb. "Who are you to make such an assumption?"
"I was watching you."
"You—" she exhales. "You were watching me? Why?"
I shrug. "Why else? Because I knew he was going to try something stupid."
"And I didn't like that stupid thing? What makes you think so? Your ego that deceives you about always being right? If that is what you were relying on, then it was wildly off its mark."
It's getting harder to hear her voice, so I lean in. As I do, I see her inhale sharply.
No matter how much Harper Quinn denies it, I know my presence affects her. As hers affects me.
"You said you weren't leaving earlier," I continue, tilting my head toward her left ear, "so I assume you still want to dance. Here's the question, would you rather dance with a stranger who doesn't respect your boundaries or dance with me?"
When she responds, it's more from curiosity than sarcasm.
"And you do?"
I nod.
"I do. I know that you want me to touch you…respectfully. I know you want to have fun. I can give you that. Even if it's just for tonight."
Harper doesn't say anything, but there is no protest from her either when I take her into my arms. However, I'm sensible enough to keep a breathing space between us, and my fingers rest lightly on her waist.
The DJ, as if sensing the change in pace, turns the music to something slow and sultry that excites my mind and fuels my imagination.
As Harper and I make use of the small space around us, the distance between our bodies shrinks until there's nothing left. Her breasts, touching my chest, have me inhaling a thousand times in sixty seconds.
I fight to keep my hand on her waist and not to indulge in a desire to know more of her. Her dress is inches below her inner thighs and easy enough that my hand can slip into it.
I don't dare to look down at her either.
There's enough heat without eye contact, and I don't think I'll stop myself from kissing her once I fixate on those eyes and lips.
The music swirls in the air, but it feels like it's for just the two of us. My heart rams against its ribcage, begging to be set free. When I don't listen, it directs the blood flow south, creating a bulge in my pants.
