Page 115 of Lost Trust

I laugh as Harleigh grabs my hands and pulls me into a ridiculous shimmy in front of the band, and I’m still laughing when a pair of strong arms circle my waist.

I barely have time to register what’s happening before I’m pulled back against a hard, familiar body.

Royce.

Harleigh winks at me before twirling away.

His mouth brushes my ear. “You look like you’re having fun.”

My stomach flips. “Where did you come from?”

“Been watching you,” he says.

Of course he has.

Before I can come up with a suitably irritated response, he turns me in his arms and takes my hand.

The music shifts, and suddenly, he’s leading me into a two-step.

And, damn, the man can dance.

His hand settles at my waist, his other holding mine, and he moves like he was born knowing exactly how to handle a woman. One step, then another. A turn. A smooth pull back into his chest.

Before I know it, he’s commanding my body, guiding me around the dance floor with an ease that makes my pulse jump for reasons that have nothing to do with tequila.

I try to focus on my feet.

I fail.

Royce makes it impossible.

When the music changes, slowing into something softer, he pulls me closer. His mouth finds my ear, and he starts singing along with the band.

His voice is low and rough, vibrating against my skin.

I close my eyes.

This is dangerous. Because with every note, every step, every brush of his hand against my back, I can feel my walls coming down.

I shouldn’t let them.

I know better.

But tonight, with alcohol warming my blood and Royce holding me like I belong right here in his arms, knowing better feels a hell of a lot harder.

I lift my head. “You’re irritating me.”

Royce’s mouth curves. “No. I’m seducing you.”

I stare at him. “You call this seduction?”

“Yep.” He steps closer. “And that scares you.”

I snort. “I’m not afraid of you, Trust.”

“Really?” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Prove it.”

Before I can answer, his mouth crashes onto mine.