McKenna shot him an “are you kidding?” look that made him laugh again.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Tank. And I’ve been a girl my whole life. I’ve been on the receiving end of crap like that before. There was this guy in my dorm freshman year who hung out in my room a lot—just as a friend—because we both loved the same video game. I didn’t realize the girl across the hall had gone out with him a few times, and she didn’t take it well when he broke things off. When she saw him coming out of my room late one night, she attacked me the next morning. Said a bunch of shit meant to make me feel bad about myself. Maybe if I’d liked the guy it would have mattered, but he was kind of an idiot, so I just laughed it off.”
McKenna was so different from the woman he’d thought she was when they’d first been introduced. As he peeled back more layers of the onion, he kept finding more to like. She was confident, intelligent, and driven, and yet she hated being the center of attention. Every single thing he learned about her fascinated him, made him want to discover more.
As soon as they found their seats, dinner was served. They’d been placed at a table with four other couples, and conversation flowed easily. After the dessert plates were cleared, a band started playing popular dance covers. Several of his teammates and their dates were already out on the floor.
Tank glanced in McKenna’s direction, lifting his brows and tilting his head in the direction of his friends shaking their booties on the dance floor.
McKenna shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t dance.”
Tank grinned as he took her hand. “You do tonight.”
Part of him expected her to kick up a fuss, so he was delighted when she held on to his hand, rising. Tank took a second to let his gaze slide over her body in that sexy dress. She really was breathtaking.
As soon as they reached the floor, Tank tugged McKenna against him, her breasts brushing against his chest, her hands gripping his waist.
“Tank,” she said, in a slight tone of surprise. He spun her away from him, his hands spanning her tiny waist.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear when he hummed, “Hmm?”
McKenna’s head fell slightly to the side, though Tank was certain that was unintentional. Regardless, it gave him better access to the side of her neck.
“You smell so good.” He spoke the words against her throat, loving the slight shiver it provoked.
There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, McKenna would be a very responsive lover. Even now, he could see her hard nipples pressing against the thin material of her dress.
He shouldn’t be thinking about her that way, but he was done fighting with himself. He wanted McKenna Bailey. It was as simple and as insane as that.
Whatever McKenna’s hang-ups about dancing, they weren’t apparent right now. She pressed her back against his chest, her hips swaying in time to the music—under the direction of his hands. Her eyes were closed, but they opened quickly when, on one brush of her hips, she discovered he was hard.
She looked over her shoulder at him, her face flushed. He didn’t have to be a genius to know her red cheeks this time were the result of arousal.
This dance had gotten out of hand very quickly.
He and McKenna locked eyes, and then she slowly turned around. He got the sense she intended to pull away, but he wasn’t ready to let her go, so Tank retained his grip on her waist.
The music changed, a slow song beginning. The band did one hell of a great rendition of “Die with a Smile” by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga. Tank slid his arms around her back.
McKenna went stiff, but only for a moment before giving in, lifting her hands to his shoulders. Tank might have thought the difference in their heights would make dancing hard, but the truth was they fit together perfectly. Granted, the heels were contributing to that.
McKenna wasn’t what he’d call feminine. She didn’t subscribe to so many of the things the women he slept with did. Things like makeup and fancy hairstyles, stylish clothing, and an abundance of shoes and handbags.
She wore tatty mom jeans, T-shirts, and cardigan sweaters. The only makeup he’d ever seen her apply was Chapstick, and her long red hair was only ever pinned up in a messy ponytail or those adorable Mouseketeer buns.
So seeing her tonight, in her hip-curving sapphire dress, with her hair down and that smoky look lining her blue eyes, was a goddamn revelation. Now that he’d seen all that hair, he feared he’d be hard-pressed not to start pulling the bands out at every opportunity, just so he could run his fingers through the silky auburn waterfall.
He reached out with one hand, stroking her hair before holding it in a loose ponytail in his fist. He tugged it slightly, and McKenna lifted her head, tilting her face to his. Those heavy-lidded eyes of hers were going to be the death of him.
“Tank,” she said.
He loved the sound of his name on her lips.
He lowered his face, moving closer to her.
McKenna blinked a few times, as if forcing herself to remember where they were. “We can’t,” she whispered.
“Oh, we definitely can,” he murmured, closing the distance between them until he could feel the heat of her breath on his face, smell the sweetness of the wine she’d drunk.
