Still, she didn’t try to resist when he reached out his hand and pulled her upright. She was a little dismayed when he released it immediately, but her inhibitions were loose enough for her hips to start swaying almost of their own volition.
Their dancing grew more and more ridiculous, quickly devolving into a competition to one-up each other and make the other laugh: jumping, writhing, whipping their heads, punching the air until they were breathless and giddy. Keeping close—close enough to feel the heat emanating off his body, close enough to smell his shampoo—but never touching.
Except once, when he grabbed her and pulled her tightagainst his chest, warm and heaving and damp with sweat. She was so stunned that she barely had a chance to process it. They were only nose to nose for a second before he dipped her low, spun her away, and released her.
She stumbled, losing the rhythm, and paused to catch her breath, scraping her hair off her sweaty forehead and tying it in a loose bun on top of her head.
“You know, I met Donna Summer once. After the Grammys.”
Niko was still swaying in place, not missing a beat. “Who’s Donna Summer?”
“This is her song. She’s a fuckinglegend.I basically babbled at her for, like, five minutes straight about how much I loved her. And then she was like, ‘Thanks, Alanis.’ ”
“Who’s Alanis?”
Merritt grinned. “Doesn’t matter. Be right back, I need water right this second or I’ll die.”
She sauntered over to the pitcher of ice water in the corner, refilling her glass and gulping it down without stopping.
She filled it again and turned to see Niko at her shoulder, and she handed him the cup without thinking. He drank it in one go, too, briefly holding eye contact with her, and the whole thing felt so strangely erotic that she shivered. Usually, the only time she shared a glass of water with someone like this was after sex, chugging it down in that same desperate manner, sweaty and spent.
He put the empty cup down and wiped his mouth on his arm, pulling up the bottom of his T-shirt to dab at his forehead. She immediately homed in on the swath of trim midsection that was now bared, her mouth going dry again as her gaze followed the obscene trail of dark hair disappearing below his waistband.
She was so preoccupied with chastising herself for beingTeenBeatenough to have her crank turned by well-defined abs that she glanced back up at his face a few crucial seconds too late.
There was no way to spin it: he’d caught her straight-up gawking at him.
He slowly lowered the hem of his shirt, his eyes going hot and dark. She felt like she was drowning in them, a prehistoric animal trapped in an asphalt lake, unable to escape even if she wanted to.
The song ended, and there was a moment of heavy silence. Merritt dimly wondered if it would stay that way, since nobody had gone up to the jukebox since Niko had reset it. Nobody else was up there at all.
But then, she heard three soft chimes, followed by Nina Simone’s voice, warm and crackling like a fire, crooning from the speakers: “Baby, you understand me now…if sometimes you see that I’m mad…”
She held Niko’s gaze as the strings swelled around them. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he held his hand out to her. She glanced down at his outstretched palm, then back to his face. He was studying her with an expression she’d never seen on him before, nervous and determined all at once. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
Before she knew what was happening, she slid her palm over his, their fingers interlacing as he gently drew her closer.
To her disappointment, he stopped short of pulling her all the way into him, keeping them a respectful distance apart, like they were being watched by a stern middle-school dance chaperone. He placed his other hand at the indent of her waist, and she rested hers on his shoulder.
Though they were barely touching, she felt every point of contact acutely, his skin so overheated from exertion that she was afraid it might singe her through her dress, through his shirt,through their palms. From the way his muscles tensed and shifted when she touched him, it seemed like he could feel it, too.
She let him lead, her feet mirroring his as they lazily wound their way through the bar. Her gaze settled somewhere to the left of his head. She didn’t trust herself to look into his eyes. It only half worked: she found herself distracted trying not to get jealous of the tiny, perfect ringlet kissing the outer edge of his ear.
He raised their linked hands, slowly spinning her—though instead of turning her fully, he paused halfway, with her back to him, wrapping his arm around her and guiding her against his chest at last.
She settled into him with a heavy exhale, his stubbled cheek brushing against her smooth one, his heart hammering against her spine. It was so overwhelming she had no choice but to close her eyes.
They were barely dancing at this point, just swaying in place. Her arms were still crossed against her stomach from the half turn, so she unraveled herself until her hands were covering his, guiding them tighter around her. His chin nestled into her shoulder as his body pressed flush against hers. He was unmistakably hard against her, and she shivered, the feel of it sending a jolt straight to her core.
She shouldn’t be doing this. But in that moment, nothing short of a natural disaster destroying the bar around them could get her to pull away.
She wasn’t sure who initiated it this time, but somehow, she got turned back around so they were facing each other again. She didn’t think twice before closing the gap between them and snaking her arms around his neck, his hands sliding down her back until they paused just above the curve of her ass.
She pressed her cheek to his and tried to keep her breathsteady. God, he smelled so fucking good. She should say something, anything—pull away, make a joke, defuse the situation—but her brain was wiped clean.
It had been too long since she’d been this close to someone she wanted this badly, and she’d forgotten how to behave. Forgotten why she would even want to. Her better judgment was being held hostage by his trembling hands on her lower back, the tension thrumming through his body, the jagged edge to his hot breath against her ear.
All she knew was if she let herself look right at him, she was going to kiss him, and she wasn’t going to stop until she devoured him completely.
