I uncross and cross my legs, not sure what to do with my limbs.
Someone turns up the music, and I have to halfway lean across the table to understand anything Ryan says. A few seconds later, Ryan drags his barstool right next to mine. His fingers touch my bare leg in the process, and my nerve endings stir and tingle.
When was the last time my body reacted like this to a miniscule touch?
I can’t even remember.
And now that he’s erased most of the distance between us, I’m even more aware of him.
You’ve got this.
Touching my neck, I cast a glance at him.
Why does my whole body feel so feverish all of a sudden?
His gaze is on my face. This feeling of being so openly desired by a stranger is new to me but quite empowering at the same time. It also allows me to do the same to him, to scan over his thick dark eyebrows, his straight nose, his sharp jawline, and that delectable mouth.
Ryan suddenly stands and holds out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
“Dance?” My eyes go wide, my distracted brain noticing a few couples dancing in the corner for the first time.
“Yes, dance.”
They’re currently playing a slow song which could be awkward with a stranger, but I’m too curious about Ryan to let that possibility hold me back, especially when he aims this charming half-smile at me.
“Uh, sure.”
Ryan doesn’t waste a second and hauls me up by the hand. With entwined fingers, we walk to the makeshift dance floor. Not letting go of me, he grabs my waist with his other hand and draws me closer until there’s almost no room between us. His height shows because I barely reach his shoulder, despite wearing heels.
One slow song leads to another, and before I know it, my fingers are tangled in his shirt. Ryan’s grip has progressively grown more intense, and my body responds like it’s fine-tuned to his touch. His fingers rub over my body and stroke my curves in a way that has me throbbing between my legs.
Trying to give my poor heart a moment to calm down, I rest my head on his shoulder. A moment later, there’s pressure on the back of my head. Did he just kiss my hair? Or is he leaning his head against mine? I close my eyes and sigh. I’ve missed this. Connecting with someone this way. Being held this way.
Everything around us fades away, and only Ryan and this dance exists. I have no idea how much time has passed, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve smiled this much. When Ryan dips me at the end of a song and then yanks me back toward him, I can’t keep my laughter from bubbling out.
Instead of joining in, he stares at me and brushes some hair out of my face. “You are so beautiful.”
I swallow at his words, and despite the flush creeping up my neck, I’m too captivated to glance away. “Thank you.”
His gaze dips to my lips, and I dart my tongue out to wet them.
I tighten my fingers on his back, and the intensity in his gaze grows with every passing second.
Now it’s my turn to gaze at his mouth. At his full lips that look incredibly soft. What would it feel like to kiss him? What would it feel like to be kissed by him?
“Kiss me.” The words are out of my mouth, and despite the fact that my heart is beating to a dangerous beat, I don’t have a single ounce of regret in my body for saying those words.
His hand cups my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek first before slowly rubbing over my lower lip. “With pleasure.”
Leaning down, he presses our still intertwined fingers into my lower back to close any last distance between us. I gasp at the glorious sensation of our mouths touching for the first time. Ryan’s lips push against mine in a soft brush, testing our connection, tasting me. He deepens his kiss, and I arch into him. When the gentle stroke of his tongue turns more eager, I hold back a moan.
He moves back, playfully dragging his teeth over my lower lip which multiplies the ache between my legs by a million. I’m incapable of fully opening my eyes for a long moment, still stuck in the spell this man put me under.
His arousal presses against my stomach. It’s long and hard, and this whole moment feels incredibly erotic.
The second I tilt my head back to peer at him, he takes advantage of the newly exposed skin, running one of his fingers over my jaw and down my throat.
He leaves a trail of goose bumps everywhere he touches me, and I can’t get enough.
Then he leans in, nibbles on my earlobe, and whispers, “Are you ready to leave?”