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Finally, she comes in andholy shit—she looks amazing. Better than amazing.And she fucking wore blue. My request had escaped my lips before I could stop myself earlier, knowing how good she would look in it, how it would complement her golden skin and make her blue eyes shine brighter. Never in a million years would I have thought she would find a dress that fit her so God damn perfectly, though. It’s a glittering midnight blue, long-sleeves and short, showing off her toned thighs. It hugs her every curve, making my mouth water, andthe heels. She’s got on high, strappy, Fuck Me Heels that make me want to do just that. I rub a hand over my mouth as lust slams into me hard and fast.Christ.I don't think I've ever wanted someone so badly before. No, scratch that, I don't think—I fuckingknow.
Her hair is up in a loose knot at the base of her neck, but tendrils hang down around her face. It’s messy, yet polished, and man, does she look stunning. Someone else comes in behind her, calling her name, and she turns, letting me catch sight of the back of the dress.
Fuck. Me.
It’s completely open, only a tiny string of glittering blue connects the two sides across her nape, and dips down to the small of her back, showing the mouthwatering, tiny dimples on either side of the base of her spine. Thumbprints is what I’ve called them in the past. Fuck if I don’t imagine resting my thumbs there now as I take her from behind, seeing her arch her back, hair tumbling over her shoulder as I thrust and yank her backwards…Fuck. I shift my stance and clear my throat, pushing the thoughts away as firmly as I can. But it doesn’t work. Not even close. I imagine running my tongue down her spine, ripping the dress off of her, and continuing downward, turning her to face me…
My mouth waters. My cock pulses.I'm in fucking trouble.
Rizzo whistles low and elbows me in the ribs. “Holy shittttt. Mac looking good enough to eat tonight.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rizz,” I grumble. “Where’s Nat?” I ask pointedly, and he scowls. The two of them have been playing a strange game of cat-and-mouse and I’m honestly not even sure which is which at this point.
“I’m not going to try again. I’ve made up my mind.”
I smirk at him. “Yep. Right. Itotallybelieve you.”
“Whatever man, go get Hattie or I will,” he says in challenge, one blonde brow arched upward. Why does he look like a fucking model even when he’s making that stupid expression? I punch him in the shoulder, down my drink and leave the glass on the high top table before making my way towards her. She’s still facing away from me as I approach, talking to a few people in marketing or accounting I think, and without even thinking, I place my hand on the small of her back as I step up beside her. She gasps quietly, but smiles when she sees it’s me.
“Hi,” she breathes.
“Hey.” I nod to the others, exchanging greetings and handshakes, and they eventually move away, leaving Hattie and I alone.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her honestly, knowing beautiful doesn’t even really cover it. “Glad you, uh, found a dress finally.” Do I sound nervous? I feel like I sound nervous. My pulse is racing and my heart is pounding and my tie suddenly feels as if it's strangling me. Is it hot in here? It’s definitely hot in here, right? Can they open the doors to the patio?Jesus. Calm down, Shepherd.
“Oh this ole thing?” she tosses out nonchalantly, with a grin. I chuckle and her grin fades slightly, her throat bobbing as she swallows and her eyes slowly travel down my body. She clears her throat softly. “You look great too.”
Her gaze meets mine and it’s back, that feeling like we’re right on the edge of something. It feels…combustible. It's like in a movie where they light a fuse and it slowly snakes its way towards the giant pile of explosives. Once that spark hits, we're done for. And right now, I'm totally ok with that, dying for a match to light the entire thing up.
We’ve somehow edged closer to each other, and she reaches out to straighten my tie, her fingers lightly trailing over my chest when she finishes.
“Do you want to dance?”
Her eyes widen slightly. “A hockey star who can dance?”
“Oh, I have many, many skills, Hattie McNamara,” I reply, offering her my arm.
“Well, I’m used to two-steppin’, but I can give this a try.” She smiles and it’s a little different tonight. Coy? Sultry? Sexy as hell.
Though I now have an image seared into my brain of her dancing at a country bar in cut-offs and a plaid shirt tied up under her breasts (yes, I’m aware that’s a stereotype, but I don’t care), I guide her to the dance floor and pull her close. She places one hand on my shoulder, sliding the other into my waiting hand out to my right. I rest my other on her hip, my fingers brushing the bare skin of her back and making her inhale sharply. Her heels make her only a head or so shorter than me tonight, so she only has to glance up a bit to meet my gaze. We start to move as someone singsHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and she gives me a surprised, but excited look, when I actually know some footwork.
“You didn’t believe me?” I ask in mock indignation.
“I had my doubts, I’ll admit.” I chuckle and pull her a little closer to me as we move together, like we’ve done it a thousand times before. Our bodies seem to be completely in tune with each other and I nearly shudder when she moves her hand so that the tips of her fingers brush the back of my neck, gently sifting through my hair. I know it sounds like something out of a fucking movie, but I swear it’s like the rest of the room fades away and it’s just me and Hattie and the feel of her body against mine and the look in her eyes.
“You really do look beautiful,” I say softly. Her eyes seem to burn, the blue bright in the twinkling lights hanging all around us. She swallows hard once before something shifts and a determined look settles over her face. She stares at me intently, her fingers still gently playing with the hair at the back of my neck, and I fight to keep my eyes from sliding shut.
“I need to tell you something. Or ask you something, I guess. No, tell.” She scrunches her nose and we both laugh lightly. I pull her even closer, running my fingers up her spine. I feel like we’re right on the edge of a cliff and whatever she wants to tell me might push us right over the edge, but I’m ready to freefall so long as she’s beside me. She lets out a long breath and meets my gaze again. “Connor, I—”
“Shep!”
And just like that, the spell is broken and Hattie springs away from me, putting distance between us as Kasey heads our way, waving.Hattie called me Connor. Just like she did the other night…Does it mean something?I get the feeling that it does, but before I can figure out what, exactly, or have time to process how disappointed I am that we’d been interrupted, I realize that another woman is walking beside Kasey, a tall platinum blonde with shining hazel eyes in a silk crimson dress that drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other bare.
“Hey Hattie,” Kasey adds with a smile when the two women reach us.
“Hey,” Hattie says, smiling. She looks flushed and is studiously keeping her eyes from meeting mine. She looks like she’s just come out of a trance, that look of determination gone and now one of uncertainty in its place. Of course, to everyone else, she just looks like normal Hattie, genial and sweet. “Looks like you found a dress. I love that color on you!”
Kasey runs a hand over the front of her emerald green dress. “Oh, thanks. You look—wow. That’s about the only word for it.” Hattie grins and inclines her head in thanks and then turns her gaze on the blonde. The ever-polite southerner wanting to include the stranger and not be rude, of course.
