“Sure,” I offered flirtatiously. He slipped an arm around my waist to bring our bodies closer and we started to move. We found a rhythm quickly, his hard body grazing mine as we danced. I couldn’t help but smile. This was the most fun I’d had since arriving. Soon he was turning me and pulling me back against his chest. His hand slid around to my waist, his large palm splayed over my stomach. He felt nice pressed against my back.
But Dalton felt better.
My smile faltered with that thought and I pushed it away. This man wanted to be here with me, wanted to be in my space, moving his body against mine. I refused to let thoughts of my temporary roommate ruin this moment.
My smile fell completely when I lifted my gaze and saw Dalton staring at me, his eyes blazing with fury. He stood at the bar, his posture stiff, with a shot glass clenched in his hand. He threw the shot back, swallowing it down in one gulp before slamming the glass back down next to a second empty one and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stalked toward us with his fists balled at his sides and his jaw set tight. The song currently playing came to an end and there was a brief lull as one song faded into the next. That was the moment Dalton reached us and I stopped moving.
“May I cut in?” he asked gruffly, staring straight into my eyes, though his words were seemingly aimed at my dancing partner.
“That’s up to the lady,” his deep voice boomed from behind me.
I turned to face him. “It’s okay. I know him,” I offered with a smile.
“Alright,” he said, his eyes flashing to Dalton before landing back on me. “I’ll see you around…”
“Taylor,” I offered.
“Nico,” he replied, reaching out his hand. I took it in mine, basking in the warmth and strength. He leaned in and grazed my cheek with a departing kiss before disappearing into the crowd.
I turned to glare at Dalton for interrupting my fun, but he invaded my space, pulling me into his chest before I had a chance. He began to move immediately as the music crescendoed, returning to its previous intensity. Wayne Wonder’s “No Letting Go” set the tempo for our first dance of the evening. I hoped he’d listen to the words and stop holding back. I wanted him to let loose and let me in, but I doubted he ever would.
I was so in shock that he was dancing with me and that he’d permitted us to get so close, allowing so much of our bodies to touch, that at first, I didn’t pay any attention to how he danced. But as Shakira began to croon and Wyclef spit his rhymes, I started to realize that he could really move.
Dalton James knew how to dance.
I’d never seen this side of him before. During the few high school dances I’d seen him attend, he mostly stood off to the side with the rest of the cool guys who refused to step foot onto the dance floor unless they were dragged there for a slow dance by their dates.
His body moved fluidly to the rhythm. It was sensual, especially with one leg wedged between mine and his arm wrapped around my waist. His eyes locked onto the stretchy black material sliding up my thighs as my knees bent and widened, my hips curving and swirling, and I realized he could probably see my panties. I’ve never been more thankful for the black lace thong barely covering my lady bits than I was at that very moment.
He lifted his head and his gaze found mine. His eyes drifted to my mouth and settled there for several seconds. Is he going to kiss me? Something resembling pain flashed across his face and the moment was lost.
What the hell was that?
He stepped away and turned my body much like Nico had, but I suspected it was so he didn’t have to look at me, and that stung. Two seconds ago, he looked so intense and aroused; why would he turn away now?
The answer pressed into my lower back as the music changed once again, and I gasped. Kevin Lyttle’s “Turn Me On” began to play as Dalton clamped one arm around my middle and clasped his other hand over mine, aligning our arms. We rolled our hips in tune with each other, our skin slickening with sweat. Aside from his accidental groping that morning, this was the closest we’d ever been, but it still wasn’t close enough. I wanted him inside me. His tongue, his fingers, the hardened length pressed against my back. I wanted it all.
When the music ended, he released me and stepped back. I turned to face him, noticing how tense he looked as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you want another drink?” he asked, and I shook my head. I was sobering up and all I wanted was him. “Are you ready to go?” He sounded breathless, and I felt it all the way to my core.
Did I do that to him?
“Yes.”
He didn’t reach for my hand this time, but I still followed him. The night air chilled my overheated body as soon as we stepped outside. Dalton stormed down the street and I had to jog to catch up with him.
“Wait up!” I called and he slowed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology over his shoulder, continuing to plow past the crowd.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened back there?”
He finally stopped and turned to face me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that dance.” I motioned back toward the club, my tone conveying my meaning. It was more than just a dance and he knew it.
He studied me carefully for a moment, a silent war being waged in his mind. When he finally spoke, I had to fight back tears of frustration.
“It was just dancing,” he claimed, his eyes skittering past me, taking in the people passing by us.
I knew better than to speak past the emotion clogging my throat. I knew my voice would crack and tears would spill down my cheeks if I tried to refute him.
“Right.” I nodded my head and looked away, suddenly too exhausted and embarrassed to continue this conversation. There was no way I was imagining things this time. He was attracted to me. He wanted me. The proof was right there, poking me in the damn back. Why was he denying it? Did he feel guilty because of Gianna, because they were supposed to be married right now? She sure as hell didn’t feel guilty about cheating on him. She broke off their wedding for the guy she’d been seeing behind Dalton’s back.
I picked up the pace, my irritation propelling me forward. I didn’t wait for Dalton. He’d find his way back easily enough. He didn’t need me. Or want me, a tiny voice in the back of my mind chimed in.
I headed straight to the bedroom when I got back and sat on the edge of the bed to remove my shoes. My feet were aching after all that walking and dancing and I needed a long soak in the outdoor tub. Tucking my shoes away, I walked to the sliding glass doors and opened them, stepping out onto the patio. I turned the knob on the faucet and the deep, white tub began to fill with water, tendrils of steam rising into the cool night air. Walking back into the bedroom, I headed to the bathroom for a towel and washcloth, swiping my hair clip off the counter on my way back outside. I was pulling my hair up when Dalton entered the room. He didn’t say a word and neither did I, but he looked frustrated. Good. So was I.
I dropped my linens on the little table next to the tub and stomped back inside to gather my toiletries, refusing to acknowledge Dalton’s presence or spare him even a single glance. When I returned, I tried in vain to unzip my dress, but couldn’t seem to get it past a certain point. Suddenly, Dalton’s warm fingers were on mine and I froze. He’d been watching me try to remove my dress and said nothing. He remained silent as he dragged the metal puller down the length of my back, exposing my skin to the cool evening breeze. The straps fell down my arms, and I let them. I shimmied the dress over my hips, knowing he was still standing there. Now I was just being a bitch.