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“You’re here alone.” I spin when she does to catch her gaze again.

The skirt of her knee-length black dress picks up with the motion revealing a brief flash of her thighs. “Maybe I like being alone.”

“Not tonight.” I reach for her hand.

She slows before she slides her palm against mine. “Dance with me, Dylan.”

I breathe out on a heavy sigh. I haven’t heard those four words in years. I haven’t danced in as long.

I tug her close to me, sliding my free hand down her back. “What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?” She looks up at me.

It never does.

I dance her closer to an alcove, a spot where the crowd is thin and the music quieter.

Her body follows mine instinctively, our shared movements drawing the admiring glances of others.

She’s letting me lead now, but the sureness of her steps promises aggression in bed.

“We’re wasting time.”

Her lips curve up into a smile. “Foreplay comes in many forms.”

“Is that what this is?” I laugh. “I want to fuck you.”

She presses her body against me. “You will.”

My cock swells with those words. “Now.”

“Patience, Dylan.” Her lips brush my jawline. “I promise this will be a night you’ll never forget.”

I move to kiss her, but she pulls back, a burst of laughter escaping her.

She’s a tease.

I shouldn’t find that as alluring as I do. I’ve walked away from teases before without a glance back, but this woman is intoxicating.

Everything from the sweet scent of her skin to the sound of her voice has me captivated.

I splay my hand over the soft curve at the top of her ass, bringing her even closer. I want her to feel me. I want her to know that I’m hard as stone for her. “Come home with me.”

“Home?” She pouts her lips. “I pegged you for the hotel room type.”

I study her face. I see something in it that I always look for when I’m ready to take a woman to bed.

It’s a flash of familiarity. It may be the curve of a chin or the shape of an eyebrow. This woman has it all.

She’s beautiful.

“Hotel rooms are impersonal.” I dish out my standard line. “Everything I need is at my apartment.”

“You’re not going to kidnap me and demand a ransom, are you?” The corner of her mouth twitches in an almost grin.

My cock pulses with each of her subtle movements. We’re still dancing. Our rhythm has slowed, but her hips are still in motion, brushing the front of her dress against me.

“Who would I call for the ransom?” I bring her left hand to my mouth, sliding my lips over her bare ring finger. “You’re not married, are you?”


Tags: Deborah Bladon Second Chances Romance