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The number of times she’d stopped herself from thinking of Lawrence in ways that were probably illegal in some countries was embarrassing.

“I love to dance,” she murmured.

“I know.”

The way he said it, full of warmth and familiarity, made her heart leap in her chest.

Take a sip of your drink, nice and slow. This is just a conversation with a friend. No, a friend of a friend. Nothing more.

“The first week,” he said, “before everything went sour, we went to the Jazz Hall—”

She remembered. “And danced our butts off,” she finished with a smile. Only in Stone Haven did the Jazz Hall not actually play any jazz. Someone should change the name, but everything else in their sleepy town had a habit of staying the same. Alessandra had brought him that night in a not-so-subtle attempt to lure Toni away from Tyler. And it had very nearly worked. He’d looked impossibly beautiful that night—those green eyes flashing at her as he whirled her around the dance floor. Except things had indeed gone sour after that. Her friend had discovered the town’s newest and most handsome residents, Lawrence and Kenton, had both come to town because of her—one to kill her, the other to save her. Initially, Alessandra had misunderstood the situation. She’d thought Lawrence was her enemy, when in truth Kenton was her would-be assassin. The Derricksons and Morleys were the first vampire families, and while the Derricksons had made it their mission to protect the Cheld, the Morleys sought to destroy them. It had taken time for the truth to unravel, and for Kenton to shift his allegiance from his family to Alessandra and the Derricksons, but all had worked out for the best.

Except for you. You still want what you can’t have.

Stupid voice.

He put his beer on the bar. “That we did. Which makes me wonder why you’re standing here with me rather than dancing.”

“One does not just go off and dance alone. I don’t know a soul here. Birdie begged me to come. She thinks it’s good for me to be seen in ‘these circles.’”

“And you would do anything for her.”

It was true. She would do anything for her aunt who’d become more like a mother when her parents were killed in a car accident.

“Something like that.”

“In that case . . .”

He took her wine before she could think to protest. Placing it next to his drink, Lawrence presented his hand in an invitation only an uber-confident seven-hundred-year-old vampire could pull off.

Well, shit.

“I—”

“Love to dance. So let’s dance.”

But . . . a slow song had come on. The very fact that she wanted to accept his invitation told her that she should not.

“You’re worried about Tyler?”

“Of course not.”

She’d not planned to say it so . . . vehemently, but his tone grated. So did the insinuation that she didn’t believe she could enjoy herself, or even allow herself near another man, because she had a boyfriend. Certainly she could dance, if she wanted to . . .

“Fine,” she said, with no way out but to accept. She took his hand, flinching ever so slightly at the jolt of energy that ran between them.

Taking two steps down from the bar area, Lawrence blessedly released her hand as they made their way to the dance floor. Toni ignored the stares, most of them directed at her dance partner, and reached up to wrap her hands around his very tall neck. And then, holy shit, his hands were on her back. She couldn’t feel them, precisely, through her dress. But the knowledge that they were there burned a path to her gut.

Each breath she took carried his scent. Leather and cinnamon and dark chocolate.

And pure sex.

How many times had she almost asked what cologne he wore? But the question had always seemed too intimate. Though not as intimate as swaying with him to the slow, deep tones of this song.

Her mind raced, but she pushed the thoughts aside and allowed herself to be led. The words to the song? She had no idea if they held some deep meaning. They didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered beyond this moment.