“Wanna dance, Montana?”
Say no more. I helped her up. “You looking a little more free-spirited than usual.”
Her laugh fluttered against my chest. “Are you implying I’m drunk?”
“Some people can only hold a drink or two. You had two,bébé.” My hand claimed the small of Journey’s back, and she bounced slightly against me. “Don’t buck up, sweetheart. I buck back.”
“And I will bite you.”
Our verbal squabble followed us all the way to the dance floor. I leaned in and caressed her bare back because of the way the dress was built. Journey shivered against me, and I nearly lost it. That brief touch made me think things that would make her run faster than crawdads in a hot skillet.
Her eyes flicked toward the table.Ah. She thought the dance suggestion would place space between us.
My lips touched a fake diamond earring. I was a split second from kissing her. A shame. “Bébé, you didn’t need to tell me you’re falling for me like this. I feel it,chère. Even if you wanted me to keep my money, we could’ve passed a good time somewhere that didn’t smell like old clams.”
“Ugh, Montana …” Her whisper teased my chest. “You’re on that fake dating thing?”
“Does it have to be fake?”
Her head tilted. “Sounds … like a nightmare.”
Oh really?My hand slapped her ass. Journey yelped. Damn, she’d played along for a while after the grannies cornered me. I liked that.
She stepped on my foot. On purpose. I winced, but the glare she gave me? Southern dessert levels of sweetness and savagery. I slapped her behind again.
“Ah, I see how you do.” She shot back. “I haven’t even shown you how rough I like it.” Her fingers clawed into the back of my neck as we slow danced in the middle of the floor.
My brain scrambled with thoughts I hadn’t had since before I was famous, and women groped my posters and my ass.
Now, it was all Journey. The way her eyes laughed since I met her, sharper than those heels. The puppy on her head smelled like peaches and my kinda mischief.
“Careful with those pretty angel of death heels and claws, Journey”—I gripped her tighter around the waist and smirked—“you might make me forget you’re a celibate nun.”
She laughed, velvet, melodic, and dangerous. “Oh, Montana, you already act like you’ve forgotten my rules. Swinging me around like a rag doll.”
I leaned in close enough for clothing not to make sense. Really? Me, her? How could it make sense? Journey’s lashes fluttered, eyes half shut. I swear, in the moment, all her walls crumbled.
Her fingernails dug tighter, and marching forward, her heels pounded the ground with the force of an HBCU marching band. A trickle rolled down my neck.Blood?
I was a big dude. And she had a vendetta against these money-making toes.
“You know,” I whispered, voice low and teasing, “we could take this one step further. I wonder if I’d have you out of that thong first. Or out of that puppy.”
She gasped. “Funny you recall what a four-year-old said andnot my rules? My hair?—”
“For my plans with you”—my fingertips skimmed her back—“I’d need to grip handfuls of those cornrows.”
“Never!” Her heel—a.k.a. homicide weapon—stabbed my toe so hard my ancestors flinched. “Moreover, they’re Sisterlocks.”
“Journey …” I hissed, trying not to hop. But her grin was worth every sharp step and all the side-eyes we kept getting. Damn, I should’ve been embarrassed, but I had a thing for my beautiful attacker.
The music kicked up fast. Wild. Neither of us cared. I focused on every second of her—her laugh, her sway, the heat radiating from her like she’d created our own sun.
When the DJ announced the countdown to the New Year, we didn’t count along. Didn’t need to. Journey’s lips hovered inchesfrom mine. Despite those serial killer blades, I figured she edged up to her tippy-toes. My hands cupped her curves while she leaned in, eyes half-lidded.
Our lips met. She tasted like Lemonheads. Sweet on the surface. A kick underneath. And full of all my potential mistakes, regardless of trying to be a decent dude. People danced around us, but I didn’t give a damn.
She shivered in my possessive embrace. Moan so deep it vibrated against my tongue. As I kissed her harder, she gasped again, and I caught it, taking more. Her breath, her tongue, everything she offered. My grip on her ass tightened as if I could brand her through her dress.
