Shari fans herself. "Oh my God, I felt that tension in my bone marrow."
Bryce looks at me, expression unreadable.
"Dance with me," he says.
Not a question.
A low-voiced inevitability.
My brain wants to protest.
My body moves first.
I slip my hand into his.
He threads our fingers together like he’s been waiting.
The music shifts to a slower, darker melody.
On the dance floor, he places one hand on my lower back, warm and firm, guiding me closer.
Too close.
Not close enough.
His breath brushes my ear.
"You know you like this, and you look too damn sexy to keep pretending otherwise."
I swallow. "Bryce..."
His thumb strokes the back of my hand.
"Say you don’t feel it and I’ll walk away."
Silence stretches.
Finally…
"I can’t," I whisper.
Something shifts in him.
Something final.
He leans in and presses a slow kiss to the side of my throat… not quite lips on skin… but close enough I forget oxygen.
My knees go unreliable while we dance.
The slow song eventually fades and quickly the DJ shifts gears, cranking something upbeat with bass that rattles champagne glasses. The dance floor explodes. Dex grabs Shari’s hand like they’ve known each other three lifetimes and yells, “Come on, future Mrs. Chaos!” which she takes as a compliment. She drags him toward the center, already laughing.
Eli and Colby follow, doing what can only be described as aggressively enthusiastic dad-at-a-wedding choreography. Eli attempts a spin. Nearly falls. Colby saves him by pretending it was absolutely part of the plan.
Bryce’s hand is still at my lower back, warm and sure, but when I try to pull him toward the group, he shakes his head, playful, almost smug.
“You want me to dance like that?” he asks.
I raise a brow. “Scared?”
