She may have been dreading coming home, but she seems to be having fun. Eliza joins her siblings, and before long, the group merges with Priscilla and Evan, all five of them dancing together.
Maggie’s new step-brother, James, doesn’t join them. He stands off to the side, sipping champagne and flirting with a pretty member of the staff. Eliza’s gaze snags on him, and she purses her lips.
Weird.
Maggie’s curves capture my attention again. Hips that sway and deliciously thick thighs that her dress clings to. A softness to her middle that looks like the perfect place to rest my head after losing myself between her thighs.
Pink flushes her cheeks while a handful of curls has broken free from where we’d attempted to pin them in place after our morning trip to Gag-town.
I can’t be mad at her. Even though she tied me to a bloody car door after treating me like a bag of potatoes. And instead of searching for exits, I’m trying to dodge her murderous ex while drooling over her perfect arse.
I’ve lost my mind.
Maggie finally breaks away from her brother, and her face lights up when she holds a hand out to me, beckoning me to follow her onto the dance floor.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I move.
‘Dance with me,’ she demands. As if I’d be able to say no to her.
‘Bossy.’
‘Just for one song.’
Her fingers thread into mine as she pulls me into the growing crowd of people. Taking her by the waist, I pull her flush against me.
The room fades away as she loops her arms around my neck. She fits in my arms like she was made just for me. It makes me ache.
We sway together to the singer’s dulcet tones, slow and easy at first, her body moving with mine.
By the second song, her breath hitches, her lips grazing my throat.
‘You’re hard,’ she murmurs.
‘Am I?’
‘Unless you’ve suddenly discovered a liking for pistols, I’d say so.’
I smirk despite myself. ‘It’s a side effect of being anywhere near you.’
She looks utterly delighted with that revelation.
‘Is it bedtime yet?’
‘So desperate to get me to your room?’ I tease.
‘You have no idea. I was worried I’d leave a puddle on the chair during the speeches.’
‘I’d have cleaned it up for you,’ I whisper into her ear.
‘With your tongue, I hope?’ Her dirty words don’t help the half-baked baguette in my underpants. They knock me to full burn.
The song is romantic and smouldering. We dance together, her doing everything she can to keep me tenting my trousers, while I try my best to deflate it before anyone notices.
The way she laughs when I fail sends electricity rolling through me.
Her lips are soft when I capture them, tasting faintly of champagne.
The way she whimpers into my mouth has me dizzy.
