Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I love this song! Dance with me?” I ask, wanting to push the guilt away and just be in the moment with him.
Without argument, Shane gets off the stool, takes my hand, and guides me onto the dance floor.
It’s a fast-paced pop song, and as we dance to the beat, both of us lip-sync the lyrics, making us crack up in laughter and reminding me how good it feels to let loose and have fun.
But then the song morphs into a slower, more sensual tune, and for a second, I’m unsure of what to do.
Then, Shane twirls me around, until my back is flush against his front. The hand that’s linked to mine rests on the curve of my hip, and his other hand slides around to my front, causing butterflies to swarm my belly.
With his body wrapped around mine, I catch a whiff of his masculine scent, the spicy essence sliding through me like a shot of whiskey, filling me with warmth I haven’t felt in too long. Not since …
I swallow thickly and close my eyes, pretending for a moment that Shane is Brandon. I know it’s wrong on so many levels, but I miss this. Being held by a man, feeling safe and wanted and cherished. And if I let myself admit that this is Shane and not Brandon, the guilt is going to take over, and I’m going to be forced to push him away.
And I don’t want to push him away. For just a little while, I want to stay like this, in Shane’s arms, enveloped by his scent and comforted by his touch.
My head, of its own accord, tilts back against his muscular chest, and his chin rests on my shoulder as we sway to the music. And even though I want to pretend it’s Brandon, I can’t because Shane is taller, more rugged. His body fits around mine differently. When I glance down, his hands are ink-free. His skin is smooth, tanned. His scent is intoxicating and addictive in a different way than Brandon’s was.
The song morphs into another and then another, and it isn’t until my stomach rumbles that I realize we’ve been dancing just like this for a while, and I’ve been enjoying it.
When I twist around to face him, with our bodies so close, our mouths are only inches apart. His brown eyes, filled with desire, meet mine, and I wonder what he sees in mine.
Fear?
Guilt?
Sadness?
Then, Shane’s gaze slides down to my mouth, and for a split second, I wish for him to kiss me so I can feel his lips on mine because above any emotion I’m feeling, lust is the strongest.
Without thinking about anything other than right now, I reach up and press my lips to his. They’re hard yet soft, and I can smell the beer he was drinking on his breath.
At first, he doesn’t make any move to kiss me back, and I’m about to retreat, cursing myself for getting lost in the moment, for letting myself feel, when Shane’s arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me into him so our bodies are flush against one another.
His lips curve around mine, and the hand not holding me comes up and cups the side of my face. We stay like this for several seconds—our bodies and lips connected—and then I sigh into his mouth, silently pleading for more.
Shane takes that as his cue to deepen the kiss, and his tongue slides past my parted lips and into my mouth. As our tongues move frantically against one another, I find myself trying to get closer to him, craving more of him. It’s like the dam that was holding back my need for stimulation has burst, and I’m craving to be touched, to be kissed.
As if Shane can hear my inner thoughts, he effortlessly reaches around and lifts me off my feet. Instinctually, my legs wrap around his torso, and my fingers delve into his soft hair.
With his mouth never leaving mine, he walks us over to a darkened area and gently pushes me against the wall. Our kiss heats up, both of our mouths ravenous for the other.
But then his arousal pushes against my center, and I gasp into his mouth as what we’re doing hits me.
“Stop,” I breathe out, reaching between us and shoving my hand against Shane’s chest.
His eyes snap open, and he immediately releases me, setting me on my feet and taking a step back.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I didn’t mean to …”
“Hey,” he says, reaching out to touch me. “It’s—”
I flinch, moving back slightly, and his brows furrow in confusion.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper, bringing my fingers to my swollen lips.
Shane’s features morph into understanding, mixed with sadness, and I hate myself for leading him on.
“I meant it when I said I couldn’t give you anything more,” I murmur. “I shouldn’t have kissed you and—”