And Jasper, barely understanding what he was doing, got up and followed. He stopped in front of her table but didn’t sit.
“Dance with me?” he asked, leaning down so he didn’t have to raise his voice over the music.
Her eyes widened slightly, brows lifting.
“You’re serious?” she whispered, narrowing her gaze.“Us?”
He gave her a crooked smile.
He didn’t know why he wanted this so badly—to see her closer, feel her breathing, hear her heartbeat quicken. The desire was wrong, dangerous—and growing stronger by the second.
“Come on,” he said, extending his hand.“Just one dance.”
She looked at him for a long moment, weighing every reason to refuse—then sighed and stood. Her fingertips brushed his—Jasper flinched, barely perceptibly, as if from an electric spark.
He led her to the open space between the tables. They stopped, and he carefully placed his hand on her waist.
She tensed slightly, but didn’t pull away. Her gaze dropped to his shoulder, her fingers resting lightly against his forearm. Her breath hitched, and Jasper felt her muscles tighten under his hand.
The music shifted. Slow. Deep.
He pulled her closer, and she didn’t resist. Her hand tightened on his shoulder just a little, and he felt her pulse quicken.
Or maybe it was his own.
They moved slowly, as if everything around them had dissolved, leaving only the gentle sway of their bodies, her breath, and his fingers against her waist. Jasper looked down at her, and their eyes kept meeting. In hers, a soft shadow glimmered; her lips were slightly parted, and her breaths came quick and uneven.
He leaned closer, his voice brushing right against her ear.
“You don’t drink. Then why do you look like that? Like you’re buzzed?”
Nina shivered. Her lashes fluttered up like the wings of a startled moth. She stayed silent for a second, then tilted her head just enough for her hair to graze his cheek.
“You don’t need alcohol to feel a little dizzy,” she murmured, her tone daring as she lifted her gaze to his.“Isn’t that right?”
A quiet laugh escaped him, the kind that tightened everything inside. Too bold. Too dangerous. And somehow, irresistible.
It felt like they’d slipped into a game neither of them meant to start, a game where neither knew who would break first.
Jasper turned her slightly and drew her closer until their bodies nearly touched. Her fingers slid up his forearm, her nails trailing lightly through the fabric of his shirt, sending a sharp tremor along his skin.
“You dance well,” he whispered, holding her gaze.
The music faded, the last chord dissolving into silence, but he didn’t let her go. And she didn’t step away. She simply watched him, a storm swirling in her eyes: fear, desire, and something deeper, unreadable, tugging at him like a slow, dangerous tide.
Jasper lowered his head, closing the distance until only a breath separated their lips. Her pupils widened, and her breath caught. He was just about to cross that final sliver of space when Nina lifted her hand and touched his mouth with her fingertips—cold, slightly trembling.
“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice rough but steady.“Jasper… don’t. It’s too much.”
He froze.
His own breath stuttered, his heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out. But he didn’t move. He simply looked at her, trying to understand why letting go felt so heavy. Why everything inside him burned. Why he wanted to pull her back, takeher hand away, kiss her anyway.
But Nina had already stepped back. Her hand fell to her side; another step put space between them again—space that felt like cold water poured between two flames.
“I should go home,” she murmured without lifting her eyes.“Thank you for tonight.”
Jasper said nothing.
