He smiled as she snorted.
"I always do."
"Hmm. You smell like sin."
"I'm not sure that's something I like to be compared to."
He grinned, enjoying the space and freedom in their little corner. "It's nothing bad." He turned her to face him, the smile disappearing. "I walked in tonight with you on my arm and felt the envy of every man in the room."
She glowered up at him. "So what? I'm a kind of trophy?"
"Call it what you may," his hand cupped her face. "You're mine." His breath hitched and his voice thickened. "You belong to me."
"I don't..."
"You belong to me and I'm yours. It works both ways. Dance with me." The musicians had switched to a poignant ballad with English mixed with Gaelic. Drawing her onto the dance floor, he wrapped his arms around her.
She was wearing denims and an angora sweater that reached her knees. Her hair was styled into one big plait resting over her left shoulder. She looked like a teenager.
"What is it saying?" She had to raise her voice a little to be heard over the conversations and laughter going on around them.
He swung her around another couple effortlessly. "It's a story about a star crossed lover. An older man who fell in love with his best friend's daughter." He swung her around in time to the beat, arms around her waist, angling her close.
So close he could see the fan of her lashes and the flawless complexion of her face. Her scent enveloped him like a cloak and sent heat spearing through him. Very soon he was going to suggest they take their leave. He wanted his hands all over her.
"They tried to fight the powerful attraction," he continued, his eyes holding hers. "But it was more powerful than their will. The father found out and challenged the man to a duel." Bending, he brushed his lips over her cheek, his breath fanning her skin.
Fighting her own powerful reaction to him, she shook her head. "What happened?"
"Hmm?" he was busy nibbling at her bottom lip.
"To the guy. Oh God! Stop that."
"Stop what?" he was using his tongue to slide over the moistness of her lip, pleasuring himself.
"Oscar," she moaned as he started to nibble again.
"Baby?"
"My knees are weak."
"Good or bad?" his tongue was tracing the outline of her lip.
"It's good. Bad." Her hands gripped his sweater. "I can't..."
He had started it and belatedly realized it was not a good idea. He was as hard as steel.
"We have to go." He breathed.
"Yes."
They couldn't leave fast enough. He cut through the throng of people milling around, cutting off an old man who wanted to congratulate the bride and groom.
"I wonder what the haste is all about." Jim McCleary wondered aloud, causing laughter to erupt.
"They're newlyweds," Someone shouted. "No explanation necessary."
He was trembling, he recognized in surprise. No matter how much time he spent with her, it still amazed him that she could bring out such powerful emotions inside him. He had to pacehimself or he would be tearing off her clothing and plunging into her without the slightest bit of finesse.
