He walked until he was so close she had to tilt her head up to see his face. Her heart slammed against her chest.
“You look hot as fuck.”
Her blood heated to near boiling. Why was that so sexy? Instead of telling her she was beautiful or pretty, he’d used crude words. And it raised the temperature in the room by twenty-five degrees.
“Th-thanks. Uh… so do you.”
He didn’t seem to mind her bumbling lack of social skills if the sexy-as-hell grin he shot her way was any indication.
Had he thought about their kiss? Did it make his head spin even a fraction of the way hers had? Probably not. It’d been nothing more than a prolonged peck. If what her friends said about his experience with women was true, it’d take her five lifetimes to match the belt notches he’d earned by his mid-twenties.
A solid reminder of how far out of her league he resided.
He held a glass of something that looked a lot like the disgusting alcohol she’d recently pounded. “You need a drink.”
It didn’t seem to be a question, but she answered anyway. “Not now. I’m good for a bit.” Tearing her gaze away, she searched the crowd for someone she knew and could use to escape. Brooke smiled at her and waved from fifteen feet away.
“Uh… I should probably go say hi to Brooke.” She didn’t get two steps before a large, calloused hand circled her wrist. The innocent touch shouldn’t have sent electricity skittering across her nerve endings, but it did.
Oh, how it did.
She shivered and looked up at the man who held her captive.
“Dance with me.”
“Uh… I’m not much of a dancer.” Shit, she hadn’t danced with a man since her high school prom. And who was she kidding? It hadn’t been a man, but a teenage boy. What the hell did she know about dancing? She’d probably freeze up and make a complete ass of herself.
“ ’S all right,” he drawled with a wink. He leaned closer and spoke next to her ear. “Don’t actually give a shit about the dancing part. Just want to feel you pressed against me.”
The combination of his smoky voice, warm breath tickling her ear, and the fantasy of being in his arms weakened her knees. A dance sounded so damn good she almost said yes, but at the last second, sanity won out.
“I don’t think so.” She tried to pull away, but he gripped her tight. Not nearly hard enough to hurt, but her only means of escape would be making a scene. “Jinx…” She pleaded with her eyes, begging him not to fuck with her.
His grin grew wicked. “C’mon, Harper. You got this.”
Well, fuck. The man knew her weakness, didn’t he?
Was she as tough and confident to handle life as she claimed, or would she chicken the fuck out and run from a damn dance?
She narrowed her eyes as he chuckled. “One dance.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held out a hand. Were he anyone else, she’d be tempted to smack the smug smirk off his face, but on Jinx, it only made him hotter.
“You haven’t won anything,” she grumbled as she placed her palm against his.
“Huh, then why does it feel like I did?”
As she was about to blast him with a snarky comeback, he pulled her flush against him. “Anytime you give me even an inch, I feel like I won the fucking lottery.” He turned, still holding her hand, and tugged her toward the dancing bodies.
Jinx didn’t give her a chance to be nervous. He yanked her against him, trapping her in place with a hand on her lower back. The other still held his drink. He spread his long fingers so the tips flirted with the waistband of her skirt.
Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she stood stunned with her arms hanging limply at her sides. What the hell was she supposed to do with them?
“Put your hands on me,” he rumbled, low and deep.
She looked up at him.
As though he knew the question in her mind, he whispered, “Any-fucking-where, Harper.”
With a hard swallow, she rested her hands on his hips in a barely-there hold. He grunted as though she’d grabbed his dick.
And then he started to move. The music pounded a heavy metal beat that didn’t fit the way he held her or the sensual way he rolled his hips, but it didn’t matter. In her mind, the music changed to a sultry beat only they heard.
Harper was helpless to do anything but follow where he led. As she moved with him, against him, every nerve cell in her body ignited. He was big, hard, warm, and felt so good against her that it took everything in her to keep from moaning.
Her limbs grew heavy and felt as though they were moving in slow motion. Her nipples tightened, and her sex pulsed to the imagined rhythm in her head. She had no shame, rubbing her chest to him in search of relief.