He pulls me close. “If we can’t sit, then we should dance.”
He’s tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to see his face. His hand settles on the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of my dress, and his other hand engulfs mine.
“I should warn you,” I say, “I’m not great at this.”
“Good thing I am, then.” He winks and starts moving, leading me through something very natural. Just two bodies moving to a lazy, sexy, sultry song.
He makes it easy to follow his lead.
“That’s it, you’re getting it,” he says. “You pick it up quickly. You’ve got strong little legs, don’t you?”
Warmth floods through me.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I ask.
“My mom made all of us take lessons when we were teenagers.”
“Your dad taught you to tip, your mom made sure you could dance. That’s interesting.”
“Is it?” He spins me out, then back in. “Why is that interesting, Dr. Francesca?”
I laugh. “I don’t know.”
He grins.
“I think you come from a very fascinating family.”
His hand settles on my hip and squeezes. “They would all be delighted to hear that you think that.”
I lift my face, about to ask him more about that, more about the things that we agreed were off-limits for tonight, because it feels like something has shifted in the last hour, I don’t know.
But then a big group comes in, loud and boisterous. Logan shifts me off the little dance floor, closer to the bar, and we watch with great amusement as a wedding party takes over the dance floor.
“Sorry for my friends,” one of the guests says when he makes it to the bar and notices us clearly people watching.
“It’s fine,” I say from within the circle of Logan’s arms. He’s stolen a few kisses, I think we’re up to ten or eleven now, and I’m buzzing from the endorphins. “You all look so happy.”
A woman joins him. “Hey, where’s our wedding license?”
He pats his jacket pocket.
She wiggles her fingers. “I want to show someone.”
Logan looks at the obvious bride and groom on the dance floor, then back to our new friend. “Is it your wedding night, too?”
The guy laughs and shakes his head. “No. That’s not my girlfriend. We, uh, got a wedding license alongside our friends because it’s an epic souvenir, you know? We’re not going to use it.”
“That’s legendary.” Logan shifts so he can give the guy a high-five.
Once we’re alone again, he tips my face up to drop birthday kiss number thirteen on the corner of my mouth, so close to my lips. As he kisses me, he’s still chuckling at the idea. “Is there anything more iconic than a Vegas wedding license? Best souvenir ever.”
Which makes me say something silly. “Let’s get you one.”
He grins, the kind of smile that should come with a warning label.Might be dangerous to panties, hearts, and responsible choices.“Dr. Francesca, I think you might be a bad influence on me.”
CHAPTER 5
LOGAN
