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Her response hit my blood like a shot of vanilla whiskey.
We were talking about dance lessons, but they were the last thing on my mind as I guided her through the steps.
It was an intimate venue, just big enough for a hundred at a time and dim enough to unfasten people’s inhibitions in the shadows. Amber lights glowed overhead, accentuating the curves of Sloane’s cheekbones and the shiver of her body as my hand drifted from her neck to the small of her back again.
She started off stiff, but she moved with natural precision, her body turning in sync and her feet following mine without missing a beat. However, the longer the music played, the more her movements flowed. Steel melted into silk, and the wariness in her eyes softened into something that sent a rush of heat through my veins.
Lessons were technical. Impersonal. This? This was as personal as it got.
“You said you don’t pass first base on the first date.” Her gaze flickered beneath the lights. “What about the second?”
Her question sent a shock through my system, the earlier heat igniting into an inferno that razed every other thought I had to ash.
There was only her, and this, and us.
“I could be convinced.” My husky drawl betrayed the desire coiling in my body. My skin stretched too tightly over my muscles, and if I didn’t taste her soon, I would implode.
Sloane smiled as if she knew exactly what was going through my mind.
She stood on tiptoes and, after a brief, agonizing moment, brushed her mouth against mine.
That was it.
A single brush, and the leash on my restraint snapped.
One hand dove into her hair, cupping the back of her head while her arms circled around my neck. The other pushed us back against the wall until our bodies molded into each other.
I didn’t give a fuck who was watching. No one else except her existed in this moment, and I couldn’t getenoughof her—the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her taste, the little moans and gasps as I explored her mouth with the hunger of a man starved.
If kisses had colors, this one would reflect the tatters of control swirling around us, a symphony of crimson and amber and pure, stunning cobalt. They sank beneath my skin, sending electric currents over every raw, exposed nerve.
In a world of black and white, she was my kaleidoscope. “Xavier.” Sloane’s breathless pant slipped through my haze.
“We should leave. Go somewhere more private.”
A surge of lust outpaced my desire to prolong this moment, and I pulled back, soaking in the sight of her swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes. Strands of hair fell from her messed-up bun, and a strawberry flush decorated her face and chest.
I’d never seen anyone more perfect.
So fucking beautiful, and so fucking mine.
I leaned down and captured her mouth in another lingering kiss. “I know just the place.”
* * *
Sloane and I barely made it through the door before the first piece of clothing hit my living room floor.
The drive to my house had been short, but those ten minutes had felt like an eternity when she’d been sitting there, beautiful and willing and wanting. If we’d hit one more red light or meandering pedestrian, I might’ve crashed the car out of sexual frustration.
But we’d made it, and the air thrummed with urgency as we stripped each other bare.
Dress. Shoes. Shirt and pants.
I unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side. She tugged my boxers down, and I kicked them behind me.
There was neither rhyme nor reason to the ferocity of our desire, but when the last stitch of clothing slithered down her body, I didn’t give a damn about rhymenorreason.
Moonlight slanted through the windows and found the curves of Sloane’s body, sculpting shadows beneath her breasts and draping silver across her shoulders.
