Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Still,” Mae said, shrugging. “He was looking at you like he’s been wondering what you taste like. If you know what I mean.”
“She knows what you mean,” her friend said, done adjusting her clothes and washing her hands. “Sorry, she gets chatty as hell when she’s on E.”
With that, Mae’s sober friend wrapped an arm around Mae and led her back out into the club.
Not wanting to be gone too long, I did another quick swipe of my overheated skin with the wet towel, tossed it, and made my way back out of the bathroom.
Only to damn near knock over Soren.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you.”
“That’s not weird at all.”
“Figured I could act as crowd control. Someone grabbed you on your way over here.”
He’d grabbed my hip so he could yell in my ear. But the technicalities didn’t really matter.
“I may not look like it, but I can take care of myself.”
He nodded at that. But he was already there, so he held out a hand toward the crowd we’d have to walk through to get back to the VIP section.
I charged forward. Expecting—I don’t know—for people to just move out of my way.
It wasn’t long, though, before bodies were knocking into me from all sides, sending me slamming back into Soren’s wide chest.
His arm went around me automatically, draping low around my hips. So, so close to where I swear I could feel the music throbbing in time with my pulsing desire.
A pained sound escaped me, and I was thankful for the ear-splitting level of the music, because it meant that there was no way Soren could have heard it.
“You alright?” Soren asked, so close that his lips touched my ear.
The shiver that moved through me was one of those full-body ones. There was no way he hadn’t felt it.
One song melted into another, the slow, steady bass beat a sensuous sound that had everyone else on the dance floor moving close, hands roaming, bodies grinding.
I couldn’t tell you who moved first, or if it was some strange, mutual decision at once. But the next thing I knew, I was leaning back into Soren, my hips swaying in time with the beat—and his.
His arm slid all the way around me, pulling me closer, then holding me against him.
I didn’t really know what the hell was happening.
I wasn’t even a dancer.
And nothing about Soren said he was either.
Yet there we were, smack dab in the middle of a dance floor, bodies melded together, swaying with the music.
Maybe it was more accurate to call it some sort of mating ritual than a simple dance. Without even being aware of it, I arched into him, my ass pressed against his pelvis, my head turned to the side to feel the beat of his heart.
This wasn’t about the music. I couldn’t even hear the music over the blood rushing through my ears.
It was just about us, about the undercurrent of attraction we’d both clearly been fighting.
I sucked in a deep breath, and Soren’s hand slid up from my hip, over my ribs, then came to settle just below the swell of my breast.
Did I take another deep breath just so I could feel the touch of his thumb slipping upward? Yes, yes, I did. And as the pleasure hummed through my body, I couldn’t come up with a single regret about it either.
Soren seemed equally out of fucks to give as his hand shifted, covering my breast completely, dragging a moan out of me that was immediately drowned out by the music swelling around us.
Soren must have felt it, though, been emboldened by it.
His hand kept moving, slipping up over my chest, then closing around my throat. A flutter of need spread through my core as he tightened his grip, then used it to turn me.
His hand stayed at my throat as the other went around my lower back, holding me tightly against him as he looked down at me, intention clear in his eyes.
But he gave me a beat, one last chance to keep things between us professional.
I couldn’t find any objections, though, not when he was looking down at me with a heat that matched the fire burning through me.
So I angled my head up ever so slightly.
It was all the encouragement he needed.
He closed the distance between us, his lips crashing down on mine.
My belly swooped as my body melted into his.
The man kissed how he looked—hard, deep, skilled.
When it came to men, I typically liked being the aggressor. But everything in me wanted to be dominated by this man, to let him set the pace, to show me what he wanted.
His lips pressed deeper, demanded more, and I was helpless but to give it to him. My pulse was slamming in my neck under his hand before he slowly slid it back, fingers drifting up to sink into my hair at the nape of my neck, gripping, pulling.