“You’re sexy as fuck,” I mouth back. Alex grins, but shrugs the compliment off. Convincing this woman she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen just became my life’s work. Someone bumps into her, and she stumbles against my side. She frowns at the asshole and for a second I think she might go tell him off, but I don’t like the idea of her getting out of arm’s reach.
“Come here,” I demand, pulling her in front of me and wrapping my arms around her. I know she’s capable of defending herself. In fact, I’d bet good money my little firecracker has mace in her purse. But I’m 6’6” and wide enough that no one messes with me unless they’re drunk, stupid, or both.
Besides, I love having an excuse to hang on to her. The added perk of having Alex close enough to grind that sexy ass against me is just a bonus. A really excellent bonus.
13
Alex
Some asshole shoulders past me on his way toward the stage. He doesn’t even bother to say excuse me. I’m about half a second from going after him when I’m distracted. Branson wraps an arm around me, arranging me in front of him. His thick forearm belts around my waist, keeping me close. He slips a hand under my coat, and it spreads over my hip in a warm, possessive hold.
He cocoons me, shielding me from the crowd as we dance. I’d almost say it was just protective instinct after I got bumped, but my ass is nestled against his hips, and as I dance to the throbbing bass, I catch a low groan rumbling in his chest. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t grind against him a little harder.
Branson’s fingers flex against me, pulling me harder against his hips. Warm breath tickles my ear as he leans down and whispers, “You feel so good.”
Good Lord. My poor panties. I don’t know how he does it, but every word out of his mouth just drips with sex. He could recite the Declaration of Independence and I’d probably get wet. The music throbs around us, the crowd undulating to the heavy beat.
I move against him, my motions taking on a decidedly dirtier rhythm. “Tease,” Branson lets out a low, lustful growl, his hand moving higher under my coat. Fingertips trace my ribs, trailing along the edge of my bra. I glance around, but no one is paying attention to us. They’re all too lost in the music to care what we’re doing.
“Tell me to stop, sweetheart.” I can hear the smile in Branson’s voice as I lean back against his shoulder. I shake my head and rub against him like a cat in heat.No, thank you.Those fingers can roam as much as they want…
Branson’s fingers change course, inching lower. They hit the top of my thigh, fingers curling one at a time as he walks the hem of my dress up inch by inch. Lips caress my neck, sending electric heat zipping along my spine. The pads of his fingers meet the bare skin of my upper thigh and play with the edge of my panties. My breath hitches, but he shushes me with a soft whisper.
“Shhh,” he murmurs in my ear. “Don’t want anyone else knowing what a dirty girl you are… so soft… so warm. Are you this warm everywhere?”
Warm? Holy fuck. I’m scorching. I’m surprised my panties haven’t ignited.
“I bet you are. Warm and wet and sweet. I’ve tasted your pretty mouth, and now all I can think about is burying my face between your legs. I’m dying to see how good you’ll taste coming on my tongue.”
One finger dips under my panties, teasing along my slit. I bite my lip, trying to keep my eyes open and facing the stage. If he doesn’t ease up, he’s going to need to put a hand over my mouth or something because I can already tell, quiet isnotgoing to be an option with him.
“Oh, youarewet, aren’t you?” he whispers, surreptitiously pulling his hand out from under my coat. I watch over my shoulder as he brings his finger to his lips, sucking it clean. He locks his eyes on mine and takes his time, savoring his illicit sample. I’m trembling with excitement, my body aching for more even as my eyes dart around the crowd. No one is staring at us mouths agape, they’re all too wrapped up in the concert and their drinks.
“Kinky,” I whisper, watching his gorgeous mouth.
Branson licks his lips and leans down to kiss me. He kisses me hard and deep, his tongue stroking between my lips. I can taste myself on him. Thick arms cage me against his chest so I can feel every ragged breath he takes. Nothing about this kiss says, ‘first date’. No, if this kiss had a label, it would be ‘I-wanna-get-inside-your-body-and-make-you-mine.’
I turn in his arms, giving up all pretense at being here for the concert in favor of running my hands over his jacketed chest. Branson’s fingers twist in my hair. He kisses me until my body is thrumming with need and my lungs are burning for air. But when he eases back, there’s no relief in that first breath, only sharpening desire.
“You think this is kinky? You have no idea, sweetheart.”
I don’t, but I think I’d really like to know… “So show me.”
Branson strokes my hair and there’s an expression on his face I can’t quite nail down. For the first time since I met him, he looks almost hesitant. But then he nods.
“Come on, then.” The crowd parts for his imposing frame as we make our way out of the packed courtyard. We reach the alley and head toward the street. He reaches into his pocket and then pats his chest, hips, and butt. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, my heart already sinking.
“My wallet’s gone.” He gives himself another pat down. “My phone too.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and chuckles disbelievingly. “This is embarrassing, but I think I got pickpocketed.”
“I might have distracted you in there,” I say with a grimace, hooking my thumb back toward the thumping courtyard. Branson shrugs and gives me a broad grin. I don’t know what’s so funny. Neither of us has money, a phone or an ID.
“It was worth it. It’s not far if you feel like a walk. I need to explain a few things before we get to Tango.”
“Sure,” I nod. “Tango is the club?” We head down the sidewalk on foot, side by side. I should be worried about the logistics of getting home later, but I’m weirdly content to not worry about it. This whole night has turned into one wild twist after another and if Branson is okay going with it, I can too.
“It’s a private club. And it’s supposed to be anonymous but—you’ll see. It’s just… you might recognize a couple people and they might recognize you.”