As he watched her dance with other members of the PR team, his eyes kept following her. Yes, he was drawn to her curvy body. And man, the way that tight black dress hugged her in all theright places did something to him, but it was mostly in the way she carried herself. She was strong and powerful, and she didn't doubt it for a minute.
He left the dance floor to get another drink. He took a long pull from his beer as he watched her do a spin on the dance floor before throwing her head back in laughter. He couldn’t seem to look away. Yes, he had it bad.
"Hey, Rookie," said Cash Hathorne, who had just sidled up to the bar next to him.
Murphy gave him a nod, but his eyes did not leave Hillary.
"You're playin' with fire," Cash said as he took his drink from the bartender.
"What?" Murphy said, finally acknowledging him.
"She would chew you up and spit you out," Cash said with a cocked eyebrow before slapping him on the back and returning to a beautiful woman on the dance floor.
And, well, Cash wasn't wrong, but there was a part of him that would love to be chewed up and spit out by the beauty on the dance floor.
But they worked together, and she'd never shown any interest. She was well out of his league, and he knew it, but still, he could dream.
As the night progressed and the crowd thinned, he found himself alone at a table, nursing his last beer. This was his first gala event as an official player of the Magics. Lots of guys complained about this stuff, but not Murphy. He'd sacrificed so much while playing and keeping his grades up. Because of all that, he never really got a chance to live it up like this. He was going to take advantage of it.
Then all of a sudden, a woman collapsed into a seat at the table beside him leaning in close.
"Hey, Rookie, are you enjoying the gala?"
He turned, and there she was. Hillary. She had plopped down right next to him and was playing with her gold hoop earring, smiling at him.
"I'm having a great time," he said.
She picked up his beer and downed it before slamming it on the table. "Dance with me."
She stood, pulled him from the table, and held his hand while she pulled him out on the dance floor.
What was happening? Was he dreaming? He must be, but then she turned around and ground her ass into him, and that’s when he knew he had to be. But it was a fucking great dream.
Then she pulled his arm around her, leaning against him, and they swayed to the beat. Together.
She turned in his arms to face him as they continued to dance.
"You're cute, you know that?"
"Thanks," he said with his signature lopsided smirk. "And you are breathtaking," he said plainly, because it was the simple truth of it.
"Do you want to go upstairs with me?"
The entire universe stopped spinning like a record scratch.
She didnotjust say that. He couldn’t believe it. But then he looked down into her heated gaze, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. And fuck, he would try not to get hard on this dance floor, he would not— but it was too late.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and really looked at her. "Are you drunk?"
"No," she said as she traced her hand on his chest. "I have been drinking, but I know exactly what I'm doing. And I want you to come upstairs with me."
He should say no, but there was something about her that was so damn irresistible.
They both knew he was going to say yes. He stopped and looked around them. He didn't see any of his teammates or anyone that he worked with directly at the organization. And really, who knew if he was ever going to get an opportunity like this again?
"Lead the way," he said as he turned and made her way to the door.
3
