Page 48 of Forced Proximity

I tense immediately. Did someone say something, slip him a note, whisper about something weird happening outside the club? ‘What’s that?’

‘Well, I’ve got a few drinks in my system. I’m feeling good. And this music is on point.’ A side grin appears. ‘I want to dance.’

I eye him quickly but resume focus on the crowd and a clearly agitated Ivy shooting me death glares. ‘So, what’s the problem?’

‘I don’t want to dance alone. I think you should dance with me.’ He nudges me softly. ‘Let’s loosen you up a bit.’

‘Are you serious?’ I look at his face. He’s absolutely not joking. ‘First, I don’t dance. Second, I can’t lose focus. A place like this has too many risks.’

‘Wait,’ he says, crossing his arms. ‘Are you saying if you dance with me, you’d lose focus?’

Dammit. Can he read my face? I groan. ‘Get over yourself. That’s not what I meant.’

He perks up with a devilish grin and tips back a bit more of his drink. ‘So, what did you mean?’

I shouldn’t be entertaining this. I can’t dance. I meant what I said … I don’t dance. On the mats, in the gym, I’m ultra-coordinated. The dance floor’s an entirely different story. ‘I mean I won’t be able to keep an eye on the perimeter if I’m dancing. I’d inevitably expose my back and wouldn’t be able to sense a potential threat. I can’t compromise your safety.’

Justin’s shoulders drop. ‘You’ve got to lighten up, Doc. There are no threats here. Not everything is a life-or-death situation.’

His innocence is endearing. Sometimes I wish I could have this outlook on life. But I know better than anyone that losing focus, even for a second, could, in fact, be a life-or-death situation.

Ivy’s gaze burns a hole into me, and I’m over it. I stare back, holding a more assertive eye than her, when she finally squirms and shifts her focus to her friend. I sigh and look back at Justin. ‘I’m here to perform my job to the best of my ability, which means I need to be constantly assessing our surroundings.’

‘Well, assess this.’ He pushes himself off the wall and stands directly in front of me. ‘I’m going to dance with or without you. So, if it’s without you, that means I’m taking one of those women from the couch to dance with me.’ He juts his head toward Ivy and her friends, and a diabolical grin crosses his face.

I stare up at him through my thick, fake eyelashes.

‘Are you going to dance with us? Is that how this personal security thing works? We might dance close. Like really close,’ he says. ‘How will you see if she’s trying to stab me? Or has poison? What if she’s a trained assassin? You leave me no choice, Doc. I want to dance. Since you’re blatantly refusing to dance with me, I guess you’ll have to—’

‘Okay, fine!’ I spit out, half exasperated, half laughing. ‘I’ll dance with you. But let the record show this was not in my contract.’

‘Yep, yep. Got it. You’ll get a bonus for this. I’ll warn you, though. I’m pretty good. Like Dancing with the Stars-level good. Just follow my lead.’ He grabs my hand, with a firm, protective grip, and my arm buzzes.

He leads me to the center of the VIP dance area, between a small group of people who smell like alcohol and expensive perfume, but I guide him to the corner for a better vantage point. And then, he moves. Jesus. He’s not kidding – he’s good. The flow of his hips sway with the beat. He might be joking, smiling, shaking his arms to demonstrate how I need to loosen up, but he’s doing it all in perfect rhythm. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at?

‘You gotta move.’ He tugs at my wrist. ‘Otherwise, it’s just me dancing with a statue.’

I’m so not in my zone. People are too close, we’re getting bumped into, my heels feel like shit. The awkward nerves plant my feet into the floor, and if I even attempted to dance, I’d look like a suburban mom. ‘I don’t dance. At all. I don’t even know how to.’

‘You literally just have to move.’ He smiles again, encouraging, and God those dimples.

As he sways, he places a gentle hand on my waist and my breath catches. I move a few small steps, trying so hard to ignore the electricity shooting down my hip, while focusing on the crowd behind him.

‘Let’s try this.’ He twirls me halfway so my back is to him, wraps his muscular arms around me, and sways. ‘Side to side, see? Easy. Don’t overthink it.’

God, he smells good. Woodsy, salty, with a faint hint of citrus and pine. And his arms. So warm, so firm. I feel small, cocooned, shielded. Something I haven’t felt in forever. The way I’m melting is so not smart. I should stop. But I don’t.

Soon, we are moving in sync. He pulls me closer, his chest pressing against my back, my ass is just a whisper away from his lap, and every part of me wants to grind into him. This is so wrong, but feels so good. I can’t stop. The butterflies are in full flight. Could I just stay here forever? Pretend this is a real moment, not my buzzed client having fun? I want to drink this in and allow myself to feel this … whatever this is … for a while longer.

Soon, it’s just me and him. I’m not there to protect him, I’m not his employee. We’re alone, together, on the dance floor. For the first time in years, I feel so beautifully feminine, soft and relaxed. Justin’s fingertips glide from my waist to my forearms, sending gentle goosebumps swooshing through my skin. I want to move closer, push up against him and feel him through my dress.

My heartbeat pulses in my ear, matching the beat on the floor. I lose myself in the music, in my thigh tingles, in the heat rising between my legs and flushing my body. His hands grip my hips and press me into him. Tighter. Closer. God, I want to feel his body against mine. To touch him, just once, to see if he wants this as much as me. To see if I actually am his type. My mouth is wet, hungry and I lick my lips. He slides his palm down my thigh, and my belly quivers. The touch is so delicious, and I immediately crave more. I rest the back of my head against his chest. Loose and free and in heaven. Wanting to stay like this forever, I close my eyes.

What the fuck am I doing? Closing my eyes?

I snap upright, and Justin immediately drops his hands. ‘Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to touch you like that …’

Arousal screeches to a halt and mixes with disgust. This is it. My final straw. The last time I was distracted, both my client and I were nearly killed. And here, I fucking did it again. Flames ignite, burning my face, my chest, my gut. ‘I’m returning to the observation area. I’m happy to frisk one of the women you want to dance with if you’d like.’