Then she was putty in my arms.
One song melted into another, even slower, one. Even the couples that had been keeping it casual drew closer to each other.
Seemingly caught in the moment, Steph rested her head on my chest.
And I swear to fuck, something just felt like it snapped into place.
I had no idea what the hell that meant, but I did know that something about this moment, about her in my arms, felt right.
As the song dragged on, Stephanie’s breathing got quicker, more shallow. When my hand shifted up slightly, she tried to muffle a little whimper against my chest.
Up that close, though, there was no mistaking the sound.
I already wanted her.
The closeness had the need ratcheting up until it felt like fucking gasoline in my veins. The sound lit the match.
I’d moved us to the edge of the dance floor by the time the song ended.
“I need some air,” Stephanie, pink-cheeked and heavy-lidded, said, fanning her face. When we both knew the ballroom was just shy of cool, and that any heat she felt had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
She made her way out of one of the side doors and into the abandoned hallway.
Her head was on a swivel until she spotted a family bathroom and made a beeline for it.
I stood out in the hallway, listening to the music get faster as the laughter and conversation grew louder by the moment as everyone got drunker.
I gave Steph a solid five minutes before the ache in my balls just refused to ease, leaving me knocking on the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called, likely thinking it was another woman looking for a chance to freshen up, sit on the lounge, and slip her feet out of her shoes.
I inched the door open.
Finding her at the sink, her head bent, holding a wad of wet paper towels to her flushed chest, I moved inside, sliding the lock she’d forgotten, then walking up behind.
“What—” she yelped, body tightening as her head whipped up. Catching my reflection in the mirror, there was no mistaking the desire that crossed her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding raspy with her need.
I held her gaze in the mirror as I moved closer, just a whisper of air between us.
My hand landed at her hip. When she didn’t stiffen or move away, I slid it upward over her stomach, her ribs, then up between her breasts to grab the paper towels she was still clutching to her chest.
I tossed them down onto the counter then traced the pink skin across her chest, watching the way her lips parted and her eyelids got heavier.
“Venezio,” she said, her voice a whisper. “We can’t…”
“Can’t what?” I asked, my hand drifting down her stomach again, then up the slit of her dress so I could press my fingers between her thighs. “Can’t do this?” I asked, feeling how wet she already was for me.
Her head fell backward onto my chest, a helpless little mewling sound escaping her.
“There are people—” she tried to insist even as her hips rocked a little impatiently.
“The music is playing. Liquor is flowing. No one knows where we are,” I told her as my fingers started to drift up and down her pussy through the lacy material of her panties. “We can do anything we want.”
Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she leaned back into me.
“Anything like this…” I said, snagging the material and pulling it down until it slipped down her legs to pool at her feet.
This time when I touched her, there was nothing to stop me from feeling the velvet softness of her skin, from being achingly aware of how soaked she was for me.
