I wasn't helpless—had worked pretty hard at not being helpless, actually, and I wasn't going to start now. I kept dancing, keeping my movements distinctly non-sexual. I channeled the dance of my youth, when I'd been so happy to be out and free that my arms and legs had moved without concern for what they looked like but filled to the brim with joy.
That kept my attention for about ten seconds, but when my gaze flitted back to the darkened corner of the upper level, the chair Mr. W had been sitting in was empty. I didn't have time to wonder where he'd gone. In the next moment, a pair of hands settled on the swells of my hips as the body standing at my backside rolled against me in time with the music. I grinned, and a feeling of triumph lifted my smile wider.
"Couldn't resist?" I purred, leaning my head back. I peered up, fluttering my eyelashes with coquettish innocence. My gaze landed on a stranger. I jerked forward, out of his grip, but he resettled his hands on my hips and pulled my ass back into his crotch. Now that I knew it wasn't my blond demon thrusting against me, the feeling of the man's erection on my backside felt more like those moments when the city bus was overcrowded and you had to ride the whole line with some jerk's elbow in your ribs.
"Not when you move like that," he replied. I felt bad for the man. There was nothing wrong with trying to dance with someone. He didn't know I'd been hoping for someone else. But, it wasn't my responsibility to accept his advances simply because he'd made his attraction known.
"Thanks, but I'm more into solo dancing tonight." I wiggled out from under his palms a second time.
I waited with my breath caught in my throat. My head turned back to the dance floor, where Sam was dancing with Sparkles. The younger man twirled with his hands in the air having the time of his life while Sam watched me. He lifted his eyebrows, and I waved his concern away.
This was always the moment when the true nature of a man was revealed, those seconds after rejection. With my back to him, the man reached forward, snagging my hips again and pulling me against him so hard I stumbled into his chest. "You don't dance like that if you aren't looking for someone to manhandle you."
I frowned. This guy must have picked up his dating habits from old romance novels. "Incorrect," I huffed, wishing the music wasn't so loud for a second, only so I could explain to this man all the ways he was wrong. If he didn't let up on his fingers pressing against my hipbone, he was going to get an elbow in his gut.
"Let me go." When he didn't, I recalled the self defense classes I'd taken at the Y. I cocked my arm and sent the point of my elbow flying back. The bony tip made impact, but the body I'd collided with was rock hard, and pain blossomed out from my elbow.
What the hell? Was this guy made of stone? I whirled around to ask just that, and my breath whooshed out from my mouth at the face of Mr. W. He was so much more handsome up close. From far away, his features had been masculine but cold. Close up, he looked like a man who could smile. If that made any sense.
But he certainly wasn't the dude who had been standing there. I rubbed my elbow with my other hand. My eyebrows furrowed and stretched to look around him. "Where's the other guy?"
"He had to go." Mr. W stepped to the side smoothly, blocking my view from a group of people crowding around something on the floor. He offered me his hand, palm up. "I enjoyed watching you. Have you had enough dancing?" he asked, like we'd come to the club together and I'd spent the night dancing for him.
A part of me bristled against his arrogance, but only a small part. The rest of me wanted to take his hand. At least he'd done what the other guy hadn't—asked me. I checked out his hand, looking out for a watch or ring that I might touch accidentally. I didn't always have to worry. If I touched something with no strong emotional ties, like a shirt or pair of pants a person wore every day without incident, then I'd feel close to nothing. If that person happened to murder someone while wearing that shirt or pair of pants, that was a different story.
At the least, I'd be able to give Lee more insight into his serial killer theory.
"What did you have in mind?" My voice came out breathier than I'd intended.
The man pinned me with his glittering green eyes. They weren't flashy or bright but a dark, muted green that reminded me of the forest. His lips curled like I'd asked a question far more carnal. "Let's talk first." He leaned back, letting his gaze rake up and down my body. "If I tell you what I have in mind now, you're liable to give me a second elbow." He massaged the spot on his ribs I'd hit, though I had a feeling my elbow hurt more than he did.
Laughter bubbled out of me, and I took his hand. If he was a killer, I'd find out before I fell too hard. I brushed his sleeve with my fingers, but the only thing I felt was lust, pure and unbridled. It wasn't all mine either. I gasped against the sudden supercharged flow of passion. He pulled me in, wasting no time latching me to his side. I inhaled his fresh, clean scent, and his hand tightened around my waist.
He was in control as he navigated us out of the crowd and toward the stairs. I looked over my shoulder at the crowd of people and spotted the man who had trouble taking no for an answer. He sat up on the floor, looking around like he was confused about where he was. I felt bad but not bad enough that I didn't smirk. Next time, he'd listen to a person's words.
My stomach fluttered, rolling with each ascending step up the stairs. There'd been a bouncer at the bottom manning the rope that divided the stairs from the general public. He closed it behind us as we passed, and even though we were still in a crowded club and my friends were within sight, a small thrill of fear shivered up my spine. With his warm hand cupped around my side, I didn't have to worry about where we were walking. He led the way. I had a feeling, if I stopped walking, he'd have no trouble carrying me away like I was his prize to be enjoyed.
He led me to the corner and sat on the couch instead of the chair I'd spotted him in earlier. The thought occurred that I should take the chair, but when he patted the cushion next to him, that thought disappeared.
I took a seat, leaving a half foot of space between us. Mr. W smirked at the narrow expanse of cushion that divided us. He leaned forward, snagging one of the drinks from the table, and took a sip.
I frowned. "That's dangerous." I didn't care how much money you had or how powerful you were in your regular life; anyone could get drugged. He'd left these drinks when he'd come down the stairs.
Mr. W arched a single brow. "You worried someone slipped something in?" he asked.
I nodded, aware I was killing the mood. But what good was flirting when you were going to wind up knocked out in an alley later anyway?
He frowned. "Has that happened to you before?" He growled the words out, but rather than feeling intimidated, the sound made me want to press into him like a cat happy their owner was home.
Out of instinct, I reached for his sleeve again, fingering the hem between my pointer and forefinger. For a second time, I felt a tsunami of lust pour from him. I'd never felt anything like it before from any other person or object. My head felt light while all the blood in my body flowed directly to my dick. "No, but because I'm careful. I've heard of it happening often enough that I know it does."