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And yet, if you’d had one more moment on the dance floor…
Scrunching up her face, she pivoted on her heel and stormed off the parquet floor. Her untouched champagne waited for her at the bridal table. She snatched it up, down it in one swallow, and then wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
Classy, Zeta. Real classy.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered.
She grabbed Elisa’s glass and downed it as well and then burst out coughing. Water. Sparkling water.
Of course. Elisa was pregnant. She wouldn’t be—
“You okay?” Mick’s voice came from behind her.
She froze.
“If I made you uncomfortable back there on the floor,” he went on, not a hint of his normal arrogant confidence in the words, “I’m sorry. I just… There’s something about you that just… I don’t understand what’s going on, but I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I want to—”
She spun around, buried her hands in his hair, and kissed him.
Really kissed him. A kiss to rival Owen’s dip-kiss with Bria.
Bad idea. This is a bad idea. A bad i—
He kissed her back. Really kissed her back.
His hands grabbed her hips and hauled her to him. She moaned, a liquid need blooming into hungry, horny life between her thighs, and she fisted her hands in his hair and rolled her hips to his.
Their tongues touched, battled. He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. She fisted his hair harder. He groaned, squeezing her ass. An explosion of pleasure rocked through her at the far-from-subtle touch. Something hungry and wet tightened in her core. Dio, she wanted to fuck this man so—
Jerking out of his embrace, she stared at him, heart racing. Her whole body thrummed. Her blood roared in her ears.
She wanted to fuck him. She wanted to be fuckedbyhim. And that right there was a problematic situation. An unexpected, problematic situation.
Did she act on it?
Mick studied her, wordless. His breath sounded as ragged as hers.
“I don’t like you,” she said, the words close to a whisper. “But I want to—”
“Alright you lot,” Lawson’s voice boomed through the cacophony of guests enjoying themselves, the MC’s mic amplifying the relaxed laughter in his voice. “It’s time for La Tarantella. Everyone get their butts onto the dance floor.”
Throat thick, Zeta met Mick’s gaze for a second, and then she hurried away. No way was she going to be standing next to him for this Italian tradition. The last thing she wanted was to hold the arrogant son of a bitch’s hand as all the guests danced a circle around Bria and Owen. Not after what she almost confessed.
The tarantella was a fun moment, a way to wish the happy couple good luck in their future together, but the only future Zeta had in her head was the strictly never-going-to-happen future of her and Mick screwing each other’s brains out. Holding his hand was just asking for trouble.
She weaved through the guests all making their way for the dance floor. She’d grab Elisa’s hand and…and…
Dio. She had two hands. Fuck. What if Mick took the other before she could stop him?
Spying Lawson returning the mic to its stand, she made a beeline for the MC. She’d only interacted with him a couple of times since Bria and Owen announced their wedding, but an almost-stranger was better than Mick.
“Ciao.” She snagged his wrist just as he was about to move away from the mic stand and beamed at him. “Come with me.”
She didn’t slow down as she scanned the guests already starting to form the linked-hands circle around the dance floor’s perimeter. Where was Elisa?
“Where we going?” Lawson chuckled, putting up no resistance. “Am I getting lucky? Or am I in trouble?”
Ah, there was Elisa.AndAngus. Making lovey-dovey faces at each other as they stepped onto the dance floor together.
