No one else is dancing.
“Deadly,” he rasps, and Emily slips away, taking my glass.“Don’t overthink it.Give me your hand.”
A blast of arousal shoots through me at his dominant order.
Christ.
What is that?
Whatever it is, my body has obeyed before my brain gets the chance to catch up.Drew tucks my arm under his and leads me to the dance floor.
Others join us almost automatically, and we blend easily with other dancers.I see now that he wasn’t worried, knowing we wouldn’t be alone once someone broke the spell.
Drew wraps his arms around me, tugging me against his hard, masculine body, and I only just suppress a moan.
Holy Jesus.
My eyes press closed for a moment as I feel every inch of his frame, wondering just how bad it would be to let this man do naughty things to me.
It has been a year.
I close my eyes, telling myself it’s not being disloyal to Anthony, that I’d want him to find love again.
This is pleasure, not love.
God, what would he think of me?I’m in the arms of a dominant, powerful man in front of New York's elite with drenched panties.
“Breathe, Gemma,” Drew whispers.
“We should go back.”
“To your penthouse?”
“No,” I reply too quickly, lifting my face.
Bad move.
I see what he wants, clear as day.It’s the same thing I want.His eyes are dilated, his nostrils flare, and his jaw muscles flex at my response.
“You can’t flirt with me,” I say.
“I don’t flirt.”
“Well, whatever this is.”I bite my cheek.
“What this is, Gemma...”His voice is husky.“Is two adults dancing who clearly share the same desire.”
“Don’t say desire.”I shake my head, and Drew twirls me out, surprising me.
I slam back into his chest and gasp as I let out a small laugh.“Drew!”
“Gemma.”He smirks cheekily, and I almost die at how handsome he is.
My defenses are dissolving by the second, and this is very worrying.I have to think about Monday.
About the bigger picture.
About who he is.
