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I close my eyes and dance. Let the music pull me in, stir me to life. Bodies move in time with the beat, occasionally brushing my side or back. From time to time, heat blankets me from behind. A firm body pressed against me. I don’t pull away. No, I lean into them. Press my body flush with theirs as we move to the beat. And when they step away, I dance more. Wait for the right person to step up.
And then he does.
Warmth surrounds me as strong hands grip my hips. He drags me closer, his hold on me tightening as he grinds himself against my ass. One of my hands drapes his on my hip while the other reaches behind me to his nape. Neither of us says a word as we all but fuck on the dance floor.
Lost in his heat, his touch, the feel of his body against mine, I let go. For the first time in too long, I surrender to what I feel and disregard all the rampant thoughts I’ve had this week.
His free hand drifts from my hip and trails the hemline of my shirt, stopping low on my belly. He flattens his palm, spreads out his long fingers, and pins me in place as he grows hard beneath his zipper. Soft lips kiss the skin where my neck and shoulder meet and I moan. Give him more of my weight. Grind against his thick erection.
My skin hums as he kisses his way up the side of my neck. With each press of his lips, the room and people and music fade more into the background. When he reaches my ear, his tongue slowly glides up the shell. I shiver and he tightens his hold.
“This week has been the worst and best week in years,” he says just above the music and I freeze.Braydon.“God… all I’ve thought about is you.”
His other arm bands around my middle as he rocks his hips, wordlessly asking me to keep dancing. My body caves to his will. My head screams to resist, but my body… she is a traitorous bitch.
“No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to avoid you, at every turn you are there. In person or in my head.” His lips dance over the skin beneath my ear. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
Thank goodness we are in public. Thank goodness my friends are here to pull my attention away. Otherwise, I’d probably take Braydon’s hand and haul him back to my loft. Have my way with him. Break one of my cardinal rules—nothing more than casual hookups.
“Wish I knew,” I answer. Slowly, I spin to face him. His hands drop to my ass, one of his legs pushing between mine as he pins my front to his. My hands trace the tops of his shoulders and my fingers drift up into his thick locks. “Much as I hate to admit it, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
He groans, dropping his forehead to mine. “This is bad.”
“So bad.”
“Have dinner with me. Tomorrow.”
It isn’t a question, more like a demand. Braydon may be somewhat reserved with most people, but when he feels comfortable with someone, another side of him comes out. A side I met once… six months ago. A side I like a little too much.
“Why?”
He inches back, his eyes darting between mine. The corner of his mouth kicks up as he shakes his head. “Never really had that work dinner.” His lips push out slightly, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. “We should try again.”
His proposal for dinner sounds more like a date than two professionals meeting for a meal to discuss business. I want to pass up his offer. I want to tell him no.
But when I open my mouth to say as much, it doesn’t happen. Instead, I say, “Where?”
A slow smile plumps his cheeks and I want to squeeze my thighs together. Leaning in, his breath hot on my ear, he says, “Give me your number and I’ll message you in the morning.”
I close my eyes and pray to whatever deity will heed my call.Please, please, please… don’t let this become something it can’t be.
Inching back, I open my eyes and breathe deeply. Mentally shove down the building ball of anxiety beneath my diaphragm. Then I do the unthinkable. I hold out my hand in a silent request for his phone.
Please don’t let this be a mistake.
And then I give Braydon—the only one-night stand I’ve thought about past one night—my phone number.
God, I am an idiot.
CHAPTER11
BRAYDON
Ihave no idea what came over me last night. Seeing Alessandra dancing in the middle of the club, hips swaying to the music, other men too damn close… I was a man possessed. Wanted no one dancing near her, with her.
No one touched her but me. At least, that was my mindset as I slid off the barstool and walked onto the dance floor—something I’d never done.
I may have the occasional burst of extroversion, but at the end of the day, I curl in on myself. Keep my overflowing well of thoughts and feelings inside.
