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"I've taken her home numerous times because it's on my way to my house, and her car breaks down pretty regularly. It really does break down. I've tried cranking it myself when it's messed up. It's not like she's tricking me."

Dale's laughter isn't very comforting, but I follow his eyes to Rain. She whips her head away, which lets me know I just caught her looking up here again.

I'm about sick of these games.

"Go get her," Dale says as I stand.

I don't respond as I drop down from the platform and head straight toward the girl who is downing another shot. With a quick grip on her hips, I tug her to me, forcing her to gasp in surprise, while bringing her back flush with my front.

If I can't stay away, then I'm going to find a way to make her mine.

Corbin and Maverick shuffle off into the crowd to find their prey for the night, while I lock my jaws around mine—figuratively speaking. She pushes back against me, and I'm damn sure she feels just how hard I am right now.

I turn her around, and her arms go around my neck as our bodies writhe together to the sound of the seductive beat. Everything around me fades as my leg goes between Rain's and she pushes against it. She stills when her heated center finds friction against my leg, and I almost roar in frustration.

Dancing was a fucking stupid idea.

Grabbing her ass, I pull her to me, and my lips brush hers when I lean down and get as close as possible. She can push me away or pull me to her. Something has to give. Now. Tonight.

***

RAIN

No. No. No.

Dane has been taking shots, flirting with a damn waitress, and now he's grinding against me like a madman. He's obviously not himself right now, because he hasn't even attempted this sort of intimacy since he started staying with me. Is this some sort of game? A game of frigging torture, perhaps?

And I can't have sex. Not for another few weeks. It's not like I can tell him that, either. Shit.

"Dane," I murmur when his lips start moving to my neck.

"Mm?" His wicked tongue does shiver-worthy things, and I begin imagining it somewhere other than my neck as he suckles and makes it hard to think. We can do so many things, but how would I explain not being able to have sex? A quick google search would tell him I don't have to wait long to have sex after gallbladder surgery—if at all.

I should have thought this through a little better, because right now, he's offering exactly what I've been wanting.

"I... um... we... Dane, we can't do this," I mumble unsurely, even as I thrust my fingers into his hair and pull him closer.

I don't care if everyone on the dance floor sees this right now. I'd cry if it wouldn't rouse suspicion. Dane Sterling is doing all the things I want him to, and I can’t do any-fucking-thing about it.

"Oh yeah?" he asks absently, not stopping his delicious assault on my neck.

When his thumbs stroke the undersides of my breasts, a whimper escapes. Dane's responding growl is almost enough for me to risk a medical disaster. His lips come down on mine, but as soon as they do, I find the will to push him back, giving us just enough separation.

"Dane," I groan, hating myself and my stupid, slow-healing body. Maybe I'm cursed.

His head drops back in defeat as he stares at the ceiling, and he swears at the vacant air above him.

"Sorry," he says while dropping his head back down, meeting my gaze with colder green eyes. "I said we'd be friends, and then... I just... I'm sorry."

As much as I'd love to be in Dane's bed, maybe it's best that I can't be. Dane couldn't love me six years ago, and that's when we spent every waking minute together. I'm sure he can't love me after just a few weeks of rekindling our friendship.

"No, I'm sorry. I... Shit. I need a drink," I stammer.

He laughs before kissing my cheek and moves through the crowd, heading toward the bar. Closing my eyes, I drop my head back and start dancing alone, trying to clear my mind and get my heart rate back down.

If he tries this when I can have sex, I won't be as strong. And my heart will hate me once it shatters again.

Hands on my hips snap my eyes open, because the touch is foreign.


Tags: C.M. Owens Sterling Shore Romance