He crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you care?”
“I don’t.” It comes out harsher than I intend, and he rolls his eyes, going to serve a group at the end. More flirting, I notice, more arm-touching, more tips. Then another crowd, and there’s some bottle twirling, some compliments, the usual crap.
Ugh. I don’t know why, but watching him work tonight is irritating the shit out of me. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Still, it’s a good reminder of why I’m better off staying away—and right now, I need that reminder more than ever.
I can’t say Stefan is winning me over, though. I feel a pang of disappointment as he returns to his seat, and I lean back on my stool, looking across the crowded bar at the dance floor. Maybe if I could get him to come and dance with me, he’d loosen up, shake off some stress. He just needs to have a little fun.
I turn to him with a grin, the alcohol making me giggly. “Want to dance?”
He observes the dance floor, frowning. I wiggle on my seat, watching the crowd as they move to the beat. Tonight it’s hip-hop and I love it, but I’m sensing it’s not his jam.
“Never mind,” I mumble.
I turn back to see Myles, wiping the bar in front of us, and I can tell he’s listening. So damn nosy. He leans down onto his elbows. Stefan is right beside me but Myles doesn’t seem to care.
“I’ll dance with you.”
“Don’t you have tips to earn?” I know I sound like a petulant child but I can’t seem to help myself.
The side of his mouth pulls into a smirk. “I could take a break.” He throws Stefan a megawatt smile. “You don’t mind, do you? If a lady wants to dance, someone should dance with her.”
Honestly, the nerve of this one.
“Sure.” Stefan gives a disinterested shrug. “I’ve got a drink to finish anyway.”
What the—
“Great.” Myles drops the dishcloth and steps out from behind the bar. “Come on. I’m a good dancer.”
Ah, what the hell.
Setting my drink down, I hop off the barstool. I know this is a bad idea, but the heavy beat of the song is pulsing around me, throbbing through the bar, and I’m itching to dance.
Myles slides his hand into mine, taking me by surprise, and pulls me through the crowd to the dance floor. I glance back to see if Stefan’s watching, but the crowd is thick—I can hardly see the bar from back here.
My attention flicks back to Myles as he places his hands on my waist and draws me into him. He swings his hips, keeping his touch light, but he’s so close—his face is so close—I can’t relax. His eyes are penetrating, watching my every move. The last time he was watching me like this I came undone.
God. I amnotdrunk enough for this.
I throw my arms up above my head, swaying, turning around so he’s behind me, so I don’t have to see his face. But as soon as I’ve turned around, I want to look at him again. I sneak a glance back over my shoulder. His gaze is pure heat and his fingertips curl into my hips. He draws me back so I’m tucked close to his body and I let myself settle against his firm, lean form. I drop my head back onto his shoulder, delirious from his contact. He’s so close behind me that I can smell his cologne, and it’s doing something crazy to me.
His mouth is by my ear as we rock together to the music. “You’re a good dancer,” he says, his warm breath fanning over my skin. It sends a thrill up my spine and before I can think too much about it, I push my ass back into him, wanting to feel him again—wanting him like I did the last time we were this close.
He lets out a little groan into my ear. His hands tighten on my hips, holding me against him as he presses himself into my ass. There’s a distinctive hardness grinding against me, and my thighs squeeze together with need. This—thisis what I’ve been thinking about since the other night. Him, hard, pressed against me. And now that he’s touching me again, I’m losing it.
But instead of stepping away like I know I should, I turn my head so my face is tucked into his neck, and huff in his delicious smell. He knows what I’m doing, too, because he rubs his bristly cheek against my lips. Lust shoots down through my center and burns white hot between my legs, making me quiver all over.
This isnotgood. I hate that he’s got this power over me—that one minute I’m fine, then the next he’s got me salivating with desire. I lose all control and I can’t stand it.
I move away from him, swinging my hips to the beat, attempting to put some distance between us. When I spin around, daring to glance at his face, my heart throws itself against my ribs. Because he’s not smiling and cocky anymore—he’s staring at me with serious, fiery eyes. And I hate to think what my own expression must look like, but I can feel my cheeks are hot and I’m breathing hard.
You don’t want him, I try to tell myself.This is a bad idea.
I need to break this tension, fast.
I try to send him a goofy smile, but it doesn’t work. He just shakes his head, catching my hand in his and hauling me back against him.
“Cat, what are you doing to me?” he rumbles into my ear. There’s a quickening below my navel at his words, because I’ve spent the past three days wondering the exact same thing about him.
