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Inside, the band plays a slow song. We might be on the other side of the panes, but the hauntingly beautiful melody of a piano serenades the courtyard. The lead singer croons into the microphone as the percussions gently build.
I take a step closer to Will.
“You know, I can’t explain how thankful I am for what you did today. You’re always coming to my rescue.”
“Not too long ago, I thought you hated me.”
“I did. Mostly, I hated myself. But I don’t want to be mad at you anymore. What happened between us was stupid. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you.”
“Are you confessing you did indeed throw yourself at me that night at Lone Tavern?”
I lay a hand on his chest to push him away. “Enough with you and your interrogations.”
I’m laughing, and then I’m not because my hand is still on his chest. His heart is beating a million miles a second against my palm. His chest, as he breathes heavily, presses against my lifeline. I feel that push down to the soles of my feet, pulsating and pounding with a fierce need.
I’m pretty sure it matches my own.
Will’s hand runs down my arm, straight down to my fingertips. The soft, feathery touch sends a quiver up my body and down my front. I curl my stomach in as I look up at him. Those gorgeous hazel eyes are brooding in the moonlight. My lips part for air.
“Is it unprofessional if we share a dance out here?” His voice is a husky whisper.
“Yes,” I breathe.
His hand glides along the small of my back. He takes my hand with his other as his lips bow down to my ear. “Good.”
My back arches.
Our hips touch.
My insides flutter.
We dance under the moonlight. He spins me slowly, and I’m right back in his arms, smiling.
Hours ago, I would never have envisioned myself dancing in a courtyard and smiling. I was in a panic, and he came to the rescue.
He makes me laugh, and think, and grin. Above all else, I like the way he makes me feel. Even when I’m at my worst, he has this way of calming me. He’s like a joint after a crazy workweek. I’m relaxed and dizzy, all at once. My problems still exist, yet they don’t matter. Not in this moment. Not with this man.
I shouldn’t feel this way. He was someone else’s when we met. He’s not mine in any way now. We’re friends, but he’s not really myfriend.I have plenty of those. What exactly he is … I’m not sure. He says we’re two people who came into each other’s life at the right time. Maybe he’s right.
I think I’m starting to figure that out.
The song ends, and we stop our dance. Our bodies are pressed against one another. My hands around his neck, his gripping my hips.
His breathing is thick against my temple. My lips are near the base of his neck, inhaling the salt I can taste on my tongue without taking a lick. My eyes flutter up, and I know I shouldn’t have done that. Will is staring down at me … brooding down at me.
His gaze flicks to my mouth. Those hazel orbs dilate. For a man who has no interest in devouring me, his famished eyes say otherwise.
I lift my fingers and place them on his lips. They’re lush, soft, and oh-so warm. I don’t know what possessed me to touch him this way, but now that I am, I can’t stop.
His eyes close at the touch, and he sighs against my skin.
When his lips brush against my forehead, I groan, imagining them lowering down my face and taking over my mouth.
My hand traces the granite cut of his jaw and the cleft in his chin. I trail down his throat, over his Adam’s apple, and leave my hand resting on his heart that’s strumming like a wild horse in the forest.
I’m startled by the thick feel of his erection, pushing against the cotton of his pants. Women are supposed to pretend they don’t notice these things. Not me. Instead, I press my belly against it and let the wanton sense of Bronson intoxication wash over me.
When his eyes open again, they’re savage.
