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He brought her into the center of the floor where he found a small space for them amid the dancing couples, groups, and singles that filled the club. She stood there in front of him, unmoving. The normally cool and confident Breed female suddenly looked as lost and uncertain as a child.
“What’s wrong?”
“You should know that I don’t…” Her words trailed off, and she slowly shook her head. Then she leaned in close to speak over the noise. “I don’t normally do…this.” Her confession skated warmly against his skin, her breath laced with the sweetness of the whisky she’d imbibed. “I’m not very good at it, Zael. Not in front of an audience, anyway. And never with a partner.”
Fuck. Was she talking about dancing? For a second, he wasn’t sure. His mind had blown a circuit while she was explaining, and now all of his blood was rushing south in a hot instant.
He swallowed on a parched throat, wondering if she had any idea what her whispered words had done to him. He had to force himself to remain still, in control, as she listed a little on her heels, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder to hold herself steady.
Her body brushed against his, inflaming him as powerfully as if he was a teenage boy, not a long-lived immortal warrior whose appetite for beauty and pleasure were practically legend among his kind.
“You doing anything alone is a pity for a hundred different reasons,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire he could not hide.
To his shock, she didn’t resist when he gathered her into his arms to dance. She didn’t stiffen or pull away when he began moving with her to his own rhythm, ignoring the frenetic beat of the music and the jostle of the other writhing bodies crushed in around them.
To his utter amazement, she held on to him too. She swayed with him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her thighs woven lightly between his. Her head came to rest lightly on his chest. She felt so warm in his arms. Softer than he’d imagined. Each breath he took filled his senses with Brynne’s unique scent—vanilla and rain and an elusive sweetness that seemed at odds with the tough facade she seemed so determined to present to the rest of the world.
Or maybe just toward him.
Zael didn’t know. At the moment, he didn’t care.
Time slowed. The song blaring over the sound system was loud and relentless, but the cacophony of the music and the hundreds of other people around them faded into the background as Zael held Brynne in his arms.
He hadn’t come to London expecting any of this.
But then, Brynne Kirkland was nothing if not unexpected.
Unpredictable. Unforgettable.
And now he had to add another superlative to the growing list where she was concerned.
Irresistible.
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her body pressed against him without the barrier of clothing between them. He wanted her so badly, he moaned with the force of his need.
She had to know how she was affecting him. Holy hell, she had to feel it.
She did. He saw the knowledge register in her widened eyes as she lifted her head from his chest. A small crease burrowed between her brows.
But instead of pushing him away or making a break for the nearest door, beautiful, tipsy Brynne did something else he wasn’t expecting.
Reaching up to lace her fingers behind his neck, she pulled him into a shocking, mind-blowingly deep kiss.
CHAPTER 3
She didn’t know what had gotten into her.
With her mouth locked on Zael’s in a kiss that seemed to stagger them both, Brynne wanted to blame her rash—not to mention mortifying—impulse on the whisky.
It was because of the whisky.
Had to be.
