Possessive.
He wants me, and I want him.
His hand slides down to my ass, squeezes through the thin fabric.
"Still think this dress was a good idea?" he asks, mouth at my ear.
"Yes." I can feel wetness gathering in my panties. My nipples are hard, and I want to rub myself further against him.
"Even though I can feel everything through it?" His voice is husky, and I shiver.
"Especially because of that."
He groans softly, pulling me closer. I can feel him hardening against me, and the knowledge sends a thrill through me.
I did that. My defiance, my dress, my body.
I have power here.
Even if he thinks I don't.
His hand slides higher, fingers finding the cutout at my waist. Bare skin. He traces patterns there, teasing.
"How far would you let me go?" he asks.
"What do you mean?" I shiver.
"Here. Now. On this dance floor." His fingers dip lower, just barely brushing the curve of my ass. "Would you let me fuck you? Right here, with all these people watching?"
My breath catches. "You wouldn't." He didn't even want me showing this much skin. I can't imagine he'd fuck me here. And yet, it's thrilling. The idea.
"Wouldn't I?" His other hand finds my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. Claiming. "I could push this dress up. No one would even notice in this crowd. I could be inside you in seconds."
The image floods my mind. The danger of it. The exhibition, and my breath starts coming in short pants.
"You're insane," I tell him, cheeks flushed.
"That's not an answer." His thumb strokes my pulse point. "Would you let me?"
I should say no. Should tell him he's crossed a line that I would never let anyone fuck me in public, and yet…
"You can do whatever you want with me."
His eyes darken. "Fuck, Gemma."
He kisses me then, hard and demanding. His tongue invades my mouth, and I kiss him back with equal fervor. We're making out in the middle of the dance floor like teenagers, and I don't care.
For the first time in months, I feel free. And the headiness of it coupled with the alcohol is making my head swim.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I need another drink," he says. "Stay here. Don't move."
He disappears into the crowd, and I feel every nerve ending in my body. I can't believe he just left.
I stay on the dance floor, still moving to the music. Still warm from his touch, his words, his promise-threat.
"Hey there."
