“You looked scary,” I assure him.
“Yeah, but I’m not acting like a fiancé should.”
This piques my interest. “And how’s that?”
Eric drums his fingers on his glass and the back of my neck prickles, as if he was doing that exact motion on my skin. I let out a heavy sigh as a cold shudder runs down my spine.
Eric steps closer. “If you were my fiancée, everyone here would know it, trust me.”
“How so?”
“I wouldn’t take my hands off you. I’d touch you every chance I got.”
My breath catches, yet somehow I manage to whisper, “That would be very indecent.”
“Oh, I’d be indecent all the way.” Leaning in, he brings his lips to my ear. “And you’d love it.”
I push him away. “You are full of yourself, fake fiancé, given that this is a nondate.”
“I know my strengths,” he retaliates with nonchalance. “I’ve got game.”
“Prove it,” I say.
This catches him off guard. “Come again?”
The two words have an atomic effect on me. A wave of heat washes over me, starting in my center and spreading all through my fingertips. He didn’t even mean it in a sexual way, but my mind is in the gutter. So is Eric’s, judging by the dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Dance with me,” I say. “Dancing is part of having game.”
Eric nods. “Your wish is my command,” he says. “Fiancée.”
We put our glasses on a nearby table and he takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, leading me to the center of the dance floor. He looks delicious in his suit. We’re surrounded by men and women in business attire. Consultants, bankers, and whatnot have come to let loose and relax after a week of hard work.
The music has an addictive rhythm, and as I start moving my hips to it, I realize dancing was a bad idea. Eric’s eyes rake over my body, setting me on fire. Then he turns me around, so my back faces him. Maybe it’s the inviting music or the dim lights, but my thoughts drift away, leaving room only for sensation. He pushes my hair to the side, baring a part of my neck to him. His hot breath lands on my skin as we sway our hips in tandem. Mimicking the couples surrounding us, his hands reach for my hips, gripping me strongly. Pulling me to him, he flattens my back against his chest. An electric current zips through us, setting my nerve endings on edge.
“Whoa,” I say, taking a step forward, at the same time Eric exclaims, “Damn.”
“Okay, so touching is out of the question.”
He nods in agreement. “Yeah, let’s make that dancing is out of the question. I won’t be able to keep my fingers away from you here with the dark lights.”
“I really wanted to dance, though.” I pout a little, shrugging.
“Stop pouting or I’ll damn everything and kiss that beautiful mouth of yours.”
His honesty is so disarming. I’m not even sure how to answer. I expect every man to have a secret agenda, to have trouble keeping his lies from surfacing. Eric’s different in the best possible way.
“You always say what’s on your mind, don’t you?” I ask him.
“Yep. Big fault of mine. Lost a few business deals because of it.”
“Let’s go on the rooftop, have drinks, and talk. Talking is safe, right?”
“I hope so.”
The rooftop is lined with cozy outdoor couches and dove-shaped lamps, and it’s remarkably uncrowded. It becomes clear why within seconds; the wind is stronger than it was down on the street, and it’s almost chilly. I rub my arms vigorously, and without a word, Eric shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmur. We find a corner that is shielded from the wind and take refuge there. “We didn’t bring our glasses.”