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Her lips twitch at my admission. “Sounds like you liked it.”
She’s so damn flirty. If she’s baiting me, it’s working.
“I did. Moaned myself hoarse.”
Hunger burns. Her honeyed scent inhabits my blood, makes me lose my mind. How the fuck have I gone this long without touching her? Kissing her?
Delilah tilts her hips into my erection. “I’ll let you keep ’em if you dance with me.”
The resolve I’ve been clinging to is all but gone. I step closer, shoving my thigh between her legs. I drag calloused fingertips up the soft skin on the inside of her thighs, inch the leather material higher on her hips. “Would rather keep this,” I rasp, pressing a finger into the crotch of her silk panties. Fuck. Already soaked.
One thing I know I can’t wait for is to eat the fuck out of that pussy.
She makes a noise in her throat, licks her lips. “What’s wrong, cowboy? Scared of a little dance?”
I should be, but I’m not. I want to dance with her. I want to do things with this woman I’ve never done before.
Reading the answer on my face, Delilah moves into my space. Adjusting myself, adjusting her skirt, I take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor.
I draw air through my nose as everyone stares at us. There’s no way I’d leave her side. Not when she looks this damn good. Not when every eye in the bar is on her.
Delilah lifts her chin as she spins around, smiling. “Do you want to watch me really dance, Cole?”
She swivels her hips. My breath stops, and I tense. I don’t mean to, but it’s like a knife to my gut.
“Not here,” I grit out. “Not—”
In front of everyone. I’ve no right to ask that of her…but goddamn. My mind, my blood overheats at the thought of her dancing for another man. Those hips as sweet as honey grinding on some random asshole’s crotch, those pink pouty lips whispering her secrets.
She knows what she’s doing. That feisty flicker of fire, of flirt in her eyes has me hauling her to my chest and holding tight. In my arms, soft, sweet, she feels unreal.
I grip her chin, tilt her gaze toward mine. “Just dance with me, darlin’.”
“Okay, cowboy.” Her lashes lower.
Keeping her small hand clasped in mine, we sway, slow and steady on the dance floor.
I touch the brim of her hat. “Hat suits you.” The light fawn color brings out the depth in her brown eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You look beautiful, but you already know it, don’t you?”
I’m rewarded with a smile so bright my chest twists. “It means more when you say it.”
A bartender, sent by Warren, comes by and takes our drink orders. They return with whiskey and a glass of champagne.
“Still haven’t tried our whiskey, have you?” I guess as I lift the glass to my lips.
“No.”
“That means you need to see the distillery right.”
“Ezra already gave me a tour.”
“My tour.”
“Well, cowboy, you just say the word.”
