“It’s a little more private than the main floor. People are generally cool here, but I don’t want…”
He didn’t want to scare Brinton off with another PR fiasco.
“You don’t want me to school you on the dance floor? I’ve gotten very good in the last hour.”
As Jamie slid out from the booth, relief rushed from his head to the soles of his boots. Brinton followed after him. Hands on her hips, and in those cut-offs, she was the sexiest little instigator he’d ever seen.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he said.
The winding, opening licks of “That Don’t Impress Me Much” filled the room.
Brinton’s face glowed, and her glossy lips formed into a perfect O.
“Oh my God.” She laughed. “It’s a sign.”
Heaven help him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brinton and Jamie stood on the darkened edge of the floor, shielded by far tipsier couples swaying to Shania’s sultry ad-libs.
There wasn’t a camera in sight, which was comforting as Brinton stepped closer.
She couldn’t remember the last time she slow danced with someone. Her aunt’s wedding in Fort Lauderdale in ninth grade? What the hell was she supposed to do with her hands again?
They awkwardly hovered over Jamie’s mountainous shoulders.
“Hey,” he said softly, “I like you here like this, close to me.”
He pulled her arms around his neck so their bodies melted into one another’s. Jamie rested one hand on her upper back and one on the highest part of her hip. It was respectful and dignified, and yet the proximity to his tensed muscles, straining beneath his T-shirt and God knew where else, did things to her she never thought she’d feel.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
He spun her around gracefully, and they sidestepped to the left and right like a well-oiled machine.
Brinton let herselflet go.It wasn’t surprising because Jamie had that effect on her. When he spun her around again, she kept her back pressed against his chest, pushing her butt against him as her hips moved in time with the guitar’s hypnotic whine.
Her body buzzed from the friction alone.
Did she hear him groan? She couldn’t tell for sure over the music.
Jamie’s hands slid lightly down her sides. Finally, one rested on each hip.
As Brinton rocked side to side, his palms pressed harder into her hips, deliciously grounding her.
Pulling her into him.
She didn’t stop him, not when his touch felt so exactly right.
Craning his neck, he whispered in her ear. “If you keep grinding on me like that, I’m gonna stop behaving myself.”
She leaned her head back against his chest and inhaled his clove-spiked scent, easily more potent than all the whiskey in the world.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“I knew you were trouble,” he murmured against her ear.
