It’s that he hasn’t spoken a single word, yet he’s said more than any other person in this bar. That somehow, it feels like there’s no one else but the two of us. It’s the raw, masculine energy he exudes.
It’s the way a steady throb settled between my thighs and has transformed into an ache just by being close to him.
Who am I right now? And how do I keep her forever?
The music changes around us, fading into another song that’s slow and sexy, one that has bass vibrating in the pit of my stomach and base of my spine.
Then, he reaches for me, his large hand curving around my waist as he slowly hauls me forward until I’m pressed against his front.
His scent wraps around me, and God, it’s… intoxicating.
Something warm, and spicy that makes my head feel light and the floor feel as if it’s moving beneath my feet. It makes my heart feel as if it’s beating out of rhythm.
A rush of heat floods me when I feel his rough, calloused hand along the exposed skin of my back, his thumb sweeping back and forth as we move together to the beat.
I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in my life, but this is what I would imagine it feels like.
Being drunk.
Loose and warm, and like I weigh nothing.
But it’s not alcohol. It’shim.
When I suck in a long, slow inhale to calm my stuttering heart—or maybe it’s to breathe him in—he flips me around. His hand splays over my stomach, the tips of his fingers dancing along the bare skin beneath my top.
Slowly, he drags me closer, erasing any distance between us until I feel every inch of his hard body flush with my back.
He’s so much taller and broader that I feel so small next to him.
He drags his nose along the length of my jaw, and a shiver travels down my spine at the innocent movement. One that shouldn’t feel as… intimate as it does right now.
My fingers tighten in the hair at his nape. I’ve never done this. Been this close to a guy… no, amanthis way before, and even though I feel jittery with nerves, my desire heavily outweighs them.
There was that brief, very sloppy kiss at church camp when I was a freshman, and then there was a guy who was, of course, also part of our church who I flirted with every now and then,but he knew who my father was, and it was far more awkward than fun.
My experience is basically nonexistent, which is why I came here tonight.
Which is why I’m dancing with this man I don’t know, letting him touch me like I’ve never been touched before.
Because it feels good.
And because I want to feelthis.I want to feel rough hands scraping along my skin and my heart racing wildly in my chest, to experience passion and something that steals my breath.
I want everything that I read about in my favorite books, romance that makes me dizzy with desire.
I want to stop being the girl who has to be perfect all the time. Who has to be proper and well-mannered and pristine.
It’s exhausting, and sometimes I feel like I’m never going to break free from the restricting box that I’ve been placed in by the people in my life.
I just want to be whoever the hell I want to be.
I turn back to face him, and this close, I can smell the fresh mint on his breath mixed with the faint, sweet scent of what I think is whiskey as it ghosts along my lips.
His eyes are beautiful. The darkest brown I’ve ever seen, but there’s a ring of a lighter color around them, flecks of something golden that I can see even in the dim light.
Eyes that are burning into me as he stares back.
We’re slowly swaying to a song that I’m paying little attention to. All I can feel is the sweep of his fingers along my back.
