When I bend over to adjust my heel, his jaw tightens. When I laugh at something Cole's wife says, his eyes narrow slightly.When a sponsor's son approaches me with an obvious pickup line, Ethan frowns visibly.
The attention makes me feel powerful and desired.
The DJ switches to something upbeat, and people start migrating toward the makeshift dance floor on the deck. Avery grabs my hand and pulls me along, and soon I'm dancing with the girls.
Harper spins me around, and I catch Ethan's eye again. He's leaning against a pillar at the edge of the deck, watching me move with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze travels down my body slowly, lingering on my breasts, then back at my face.
When his eyes meet mine again, the promise in them is clear.
You're mine later.
I dance harder, putting on a show just for him. I run my hands through my hair and roll my body to the beat, knowing exactly what I'm doing to him. His nostrils flare, and he takes a long drink, his eyes never leaving me.
Two can play this game.
An hour later, I'm exhausted, overheated, and ready to go home. I find Avery at the dessert table and tell her I'm leaving.
“Already? It's barely midnight.”
“I have an early morning,” I lie. “Physical therapy stuff.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Athletes don't take weekends off.” I hug her goodbye. “I'll text you tomorrow.”
I make my rounds, saying goodnight to Olivia and Harper and a few other people I've met. Then I slip out the front door and find Ethan already waiting by the car, his driver holding the door open.
“Great minds,” I say.
“I couldn't take it anymore.” He gestures for me to get in first, then slides in beside me. “You in that dress and dancing like that. Do you have any idea what you were doing to me?”
“I have some idea.”
The partition rises, and he pulls me onto his lap, kissing me hard. His hands are everywhere, sliding up my thighs, gripping my ass, and tangling in my hair. I moan against his mouth and rock my hips against the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“We're in a car,” I point out when he slides his huge hand under my dress.
He pulls back with visible effort. “When we get home, you're in trouble.”
“I look forward to it.”
For the rest of the drive home, we manage to keep our hands to ourselves, though Ethan's fingers trace maddening patterns on my thigh the entire way.
By the time we reach the apartment building, I'm desperate for him. We barely make it through his front door before his mouth is on mine again, his hands tugging at the zipper of my dress.
“Wait,” I gasp, pushing him back slightly. “You didn't dance with me tonight.”
He frowns. “What?”
“You promised me a dance at the party.”
“Baby, my knee,” Ethan says, but it’s not about his knee.
It feels good to tease him, knowing how much he wants it. I want to torture him just a little bit longer. “One slow dance.”
I pull out my phone and scroll through my music until I find something slow and romantic. A piano ballad fills the apartment. “Dance with me.”
