My jaw locks so hard I feel it in my teeth. I can barely hear the music over the pounding in my head.
If this man tells me to hold her any closer, I’m going to do it—and then I’m dragging her to the darkest, furthest corner of this beach and fucking her.
I’ll take her virginity like the animal I am.
And God, I shouldn’t have let myself think about that, because it’s one thing to want Lily, but it’s another to know she’s been waiting for me. That I will be the first. That I will be the last. That all this time, she’s been my perfect, good girl—sweet and untouched, keeping herself for me without even knowing it.
The music swells, all drums and strings and heat, and I force myself to move with her. To match her sway. Our bodies fit together too perfectly, hips aligned, her hand in mine, and the rhythm digs into my blood until it’s all I can hear.
She tilts her head back to look up at me, her lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes bright from the dance and the sun. “You’re a great dancer,” she says, breathless, teasing.
I lean in, close enough that my lips brush the curve of her ear as I answer, “I have to be light on my feet, Moya. My line of work depends on it.”
Her laugh is soft, warm against my throat, and it makes my grip on her waist tighten just a little.
The instructor calls out another command, and I spin her out, then pull her back in, the red of her dress flaring like a flame. Shecollides with my chest, her hand braced against me, her body pressed flush against mine.
I swear I can feel every beat of her heart, every drop of heat between us.
“I thought you didn't dance?” she whispers, looking everywhere but at me, and I want her—need her—to look at me.
“I didn’t when I was young and immature,” I say, dipping her low, the skirt of her red dress spilling around us like fire. “I didn’t dance, didn’t care to try. But now?” I pull her back to me, close, my hand at her spine pressing her flush against my chest. “Now I am the man who goes to the dance.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes finally lift to mine. “Because of me?”
“Always because of you,” I admit.
We turn with the rhythm, bodies moving together in slow circles while the rest of the class blurs into nothing. It’s just her, and the heat of her skin under my hand, and the music carrying us.
“You have no idea how hard I work,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Every day, to be the man you deserve. To take everything dark and ugly I have been and make it into something worthy of you. Do you know what it is like to want someone so much you would burn down your whole life just to be allowed to hold her hand in daylight?”
She looks at me then, truly looks at me, and there’s no shyness in her gaze now—only something warm and steady, something that roots me in place.
“I didn’t need you to be perfect,” she says softly, the words almost lost in the music. “I just needed you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”
Her voice sinks into me, deep and slow, undoing me in a way nothing else can.
“You may only want me,” I tell her, my thumb tracing the bare skin of her back, “but you don’t deserve anything less than perfection, Lily.”
The music curls around us, heat sinking deep into my skin. She looks up at me through her lashes, and then—God help me—her teeth catch her lower lip.
It’s a small, thoughtless thing, but it knocks the air out of me.
I stop moving. My hand slides from her back to her jaw, tilting her face up toward mine.
“Don’t do that,” I say, low enough that only she can hear.
Her brows knit together, like she doesn’t understand. “Do what?”
I brush my thumb over her mouth, pulling that soft, bitten lip free from between her teeth. “That.”
I dip my head, my forehead touching hers for the briefest second before my mouth finds hers.
The kiss starts soft, almost careful—a question. But the moment her lips part, the restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps. It deepens instantly, turns hot and consuming, years of tension collapsing into one brutal, beautiful answer.
Her lips are warm and sweet and open for me, and I can taste the faint salt of the ocean on her tongue. I kiss her like a starvingman, like I’ve been waiting for this exact second since the first day I saw her, and it’s still not enough.
My hand cradles the back of her head, angling her mouth to mine, while my other palm presses hard against the small of her back, pulling her flush to me. Her body molds against mine, soft curves meeting the hard line of my chest, and it’s like every muscle I’ve kept locked for years unravels at once.
