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Dean wasn’t sure. He’d had every intention of letting her go, but then he was kissing her again, tasting the sweet, minty interior of her mouth, and it had been one hell of a fight to stop the first time.
But as she pulled him closer, he groaned in surrender. He threaded his fingers through her thick hair and cradled her head, angling it to give his tongue better access. He loved the fact that she was tall, that he didn’t need to break his neck to kiss her, and as he pressed his leg harder between hers, he felt her moan in his mouth.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just kissed a woman, gotten caught up in the scent of her skin or the tight nubs of her nipples pressing against his chest through their clothes. The way she arched her back and thrust her hips against him as her hands slid into his back pockets. She actually squeezed his ass through the rough denim, and his cock twitched against her, aching to be touched, caressed by her silky hands.
Several high-pitched giggles close by pulled Dean up short, and he caught sight of a couple of teenagers watching them, one with a cell phone pointed their way.
Dean moved fast. He blocked Violet as he crossed the grass and yanked the phone away from the boy, who paled even as he protested.
“Hey, asshole, that’s mine!”
Dean scrolled until he found the video gallery, ignoring the guy’s attempt to be tough. Dean deleted the video and tossed the cell back to the kid.
“You’re lucky you aren’t getting it back in pieces. You better hope the next person you pull that on is as nice as me.”
“Dude, you were doing it in public. You were asking for it,” his friend said.
Dean didn’t bother arguing. He should have known better; he worked with teen boys for God’s sake, and in this day and age, everything was fodder for the Internet trolls. He hadn’t been thinking straight, though. All he’d been thinking about for the last few hours was Violet.
Which was obviously a very, very bad sign.
Dean walked back to Violet, whose expression wavered somewhere between horrified and amused.
“I would have kicked the little shithead’s ass,” she said.
“I don’t really want to be arrested tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Yeah, I can understand why that would be a drag.”
Her quiet laughter was hard to resist, and he found himself grinning down at her. “You think you’re pretty funny, huh?”
“Considering how crazy my life is, it’s better for me to laugh at everything than to cry,” she said.
Although her tone was light, Dean caught the serious glimpse in her eyes. He wanted to ask her about the shadows in their depths, but once he did, they’d start sharing details about their lives. Get to know each other on a deeper level.
He needed to put some distance between them. “Why don’t I walk you back to your friend? Maybe I can drag mine away so the two of you can dance and do whatever it is girls enjoy.”
“That’s a sweet offer.”
“Well, I’m a sweet guy,” he said.
She snorted, but he let it go as they headed back to the stage area. Their hands brushed several times, and he glanced over to see if she was doing it on purpose, hoping to get him to hold her hand, but then she stuffed them in the pockets of her shorts. Maybe she’d been telling the truth about wanting nothing more than a night of fun.
One night was something he could do.
They pushed through the crowd until they found Best and Tracy. Dean tapped Best on the shoulder, causing Best to pull away from Tracy’s lips and flash him a disgruntled look. “What?”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” He was hoping Best would just go along with him, but that was too much to ask for.
“Worst wingman ever,” Best muttered loud enough for him to hear.
Violet decided to help out by grabbing Tracy and squealing, “Meghan Trainor is next.”
“Woo-hoo!” Tracy hollered.
Now that Best’s toy was distracted, Dean led Best a few feet away from the girls. “What the hell, man? Why did you cock block me?”
Dean glanced over at Violet and Tracy, who seemed to be deep in conversation. “Because Violet wanted to dance with her friend and you’ve been monopolizing her.”
