Jason was nowhere in sight, so Hunter pulled out his phone and fired off a text.
An answer came back just as they reached Quinn, who was dancing with another couple and flashed them a quick, easy grin.
“Who were you messaging?” Serena asked in his ear.
“Jason. He found a poker game. He’s out for the night.”
“Ah.” She spun around, rubbing her back against his front. He spread his legs and bent his knees so he could grind against her ass.
Huh. So it was in fact that simple. He kept his hands on her hips and let her move to the beat, and pretty soon, they were dirty dancing. He was no Patrick Swayze, but it was damn hot and nobody was pointing and laughing.
The couple that Quinn had been dancing with moved away and he turned around, swaying in front of Serena. Then he looked at Hunter. “May I?”
It wasn’t his call. “You want to dance with Quinn, beautiful?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You want me to?”
Oh. She thought it was his call. “Sure.”
“That’s not yes,” she said, giving him a saucy look. “You want to share me tonight, Hunter?”
Much to his shock, the thought of amping up her pleasure on the dance floor and sandwiching her between him and Quinn didn’t spark jealousy.
Far from it. The heavy, erotic tug deep inside him was unmistakable. Serena grinding against Quinn? That sounded…hot. Fucking hell.
And Serena knew it. She rolled her hips against the proof thatyes, he wanted to share her tonight. Here. Where it was safe to admit that his woman deserved all the world’s pleasure, but since some of the world was super creepy, he’d have to wrangle what pleasure could be found at hand from trusted sources.
Quinn Parry was as trusted as they came.
So Hunter stroked his hand down Serena’s arm, squeezed her hand, and held it out to his team mate. “Absolutely. Let’s dance.”
