Moving from behind the counter, Ginny felt her feet crossing the floor, stopping two inches from him, afraid to go any farther. Her top felt as tight as a corset, and it had a stranglehold on her heart.
Belatedly remembering the advice, she licked her bottom lip and took the step needed for their bodies to meet. Sliding her arms around the lower part of his waist, she hooked her hands over his belt and held on for dear life. She wanted to ask if he was mad at her, but she took the advice she had been given; the less talking, the better.
Someone in the room turned the overhead light off, leaving the room bathed in soft lamplight.
The song ended and the playlist replayed the first song that she and Trudy had danced to. “This Girl Is On Fire.” Sweet Jesus, this was the last song she needed to listen to with the sensual way Gavin was holding her.
Song after song played, each one ratcheting up the sensual tension between them.
“Did you have fun at Sex Piston’s slumber party?” The sensual quality in his whispery-soft voice had chills going up her back.
Ginny managed to get out a strangled, “Yes.”
“Did you enjoy me running around Treepoint trying to meet up with you?”
This was so not good. The hair on her arms stood up.
“I didn’t know Trudy texted you to meet me.”
Gavin curled his hands around the back of her neck. “You would have known if you had answered my texts or calls.”
“I forgot my phone in my bag and I rode in Sex Piston’s van.”
Ginny stopped speaking. He didn’t want to hear excuses of why she hadn’t kept her phone with her.
“I screwed up,” she admitted.
“Shh … don’t be afraid.” When his hand went to her ass to jerk her hips to his, it pressed her breasts tighter against his chest. “I would never hurt you, Ginny, ever.”
Ginny couldn’t relax. The slow, sensual way he talked to her was scaring the bejesus out of her.
“I would never hurt you,” Gavin repeated. “But I am going to punish you. So, are you ready to go upstairs?”
Ginny felt his hand slide along her arm until he linked his fingers through hers. Then he pulled arm behind her back until they were dancing with her arm twisted behind her back. There was no pain, as her injured arm was still cocooned in her sling. With both of her arms out of commission, however, it gave her a helpless feeling, as Gavin danced with her, controlling their movements.
“No.” Ginny pretended the strangled word that came out of her mouth was articulated perfectly. It would have worked, too, if Gavin had made a modicum of effort to hide the knowing gleam in his eyes. The jerk didn’t.
They listened to Sam Smith sing “Fire on Fire.” The sensual words and voice were heightened by the hedonistic way Gavin watched every move her body made with his.
“Delaying the inevitable won’t make it any easier.” Gavin lowered his head to lick her bottom lip.
“Maybe not, but it’s making me feel better.”
“Why? Because we’re surrounded by all these people?” Gavin’s lips curled in a smile that went right to her crotch. “With one snap of my fingers, I could have those you think will protect you cleared out. No one would lift a hand to stop me from laying you on the pool table and unzipping that tiny skirt to find out how wet you are.”
Ginny’s breathing escalated.
Keeping her hand twisted behind her back, he used his other hand to stroke a fingertip across the tops of her exposed breasts. Goosebumps appeared beneath his touch.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“I was hoping you would give me a different answer. Was wearing this sexy little bit of nothing the bravest thing you planned to do tonight, Nymph?”
Ginny averted her gaze and saw Fat Louise dancing with Cade. She looked at her for help. All she got back was a thumbs-up as the woman stared at Gavin with limpid pools of desire, as if he were cotton candy on a stick. The saddest part was that Ginny agreed—he was like cotton candy; once you touched him, you wanted more.
“I didn’t have a plan,” she denied. Liar. Liar. Her pants were on fire. Lord, forgive her. Her body whole body was, and there wasn’t a fire extinguisher in the whole room. Her ride or die friends had either left or were ogling Gavin, as fixated on his every movement as she was.
Gavin slid a hand up her chest to her neck to curl around the back of her neck. “How did you get to the church this morning?”
Why did she feel as if she was about to walk over a bed of scorching coals?
“Moon gave me a ride.”
“How was your first ride?”
She didn’t like the way he was asking his questions. They seemed casual, but he was staring at her like a wolf anticipating jumping on his prey.