Chapter Eleven

JENSEN

I’m not going to lie. Grace acting all possessive and jealous over me feels pretty damn amazing. When she’d rejected my invitation to dance, I’d been disappointed, but not surprised. I’d flirted with the blonde to be a little petty and prove to Grace that she wants me just as much as I want her, but I hadn’t expected her to react the way she did.

Now, dancing—pressed up against me—I can’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. She belongs in my arms.

We sway in unison. The music blares on, a throbbing beat that rhythmically matches the blood pulsing in my veins. Grace's arms loop around my neck, her eyes locking onto mine and her lips curling into a languid smile.

Our bodies move together in perfect sync, our hips grinding and breaths mingling. I glance across the bar to make sure Carson isn’t watching us, but he’s thoroughly distracted by a pretty redhead he’s “teaching” to play pool.

Good, I think. That gives Grace and me the space we need. I pull her closer, her body melding with mine as though we're two pieces of a puzzle that only fit each other.

Her eyes flutter shut as the music washes over us, pulling us further into our own little world. The loud chatter of the bar patrons and clinking of beer bottles fade into the background -- all that matters is Grace and the heat radiating from her body.

"I didn't think you liked to dance," I murmur into her ear, my breath ruffling her soft hair. That’s not entirely true. We danced a lot in Miami, but that was then. That was Lynn. This is Grace now, and I’m desperate to know more about her.

"I don't usually," she admits, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she gazes up at me.

A low chuckle vibrates in my chest. Grace's shy look melts my heart further, if that's even possible.

"What about you? Do you dance often?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Not as often as I’d like,” I admit, "Especially not with someone like you."

She looks up at me with a curious grin. "And what does that mean exactly?"

"Well..." I smirk down at her. "It's not every day that I get to dance with a woman who yanks me away from another woman out of pure jealousy."

She gasps at my audacious statement, but doesn't deny it. Instead, she playfully swats my arm before allowing it to snake back around her waist. As we continue to sway on the dance floor, lost in our rhythm and in each other’s eyes, I can’t help but think that this moment is perfect.

“You know,” I murmur. “When I said I’ve thought about you a lot since Miami, I wasn’t lying. You’ve never been far from my mind.”

She looks up at me with wide eyes but then jerks her gaze away, her nose crinkling. “Well…I know I said I’ve thought of you,” she murmurs. “But I haven’t. Not really.”

I grin at how hard she’s trying to act like I don’t affect her, but I can tell that I do. She’s hanging onto the walls around her heart by her fingertips.

The moment stretches on as we continue to sway to the music, our bodies once again attached as if magnetically bound together. Heat radiates from her body, warming me more effectively than any shot of alcohol ever could.

Her face is tilted up toward mine and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her. Feeling bold, I lean down toward her, but before my lips can capture hers, she steps back and out of my arms. I look back up into her eyes, and her expression is panicked.

“Grace?” I mutter.

“I…I need to go,” she says before hurrying past me and off the dancefloor.

“Grace!” I call after her, but she doesn’t look back as she makes her way across the bar toward Carson. I follow her, not because I’m worried she’s going to tell her brother anything that’ll expose us, but because seeing her upset guts me. I pushed too much too fast, and I need to make sure she’s okay.

Carson is still occupied with the redhead when Grace reaches him. I stop next to her, but she ignores me. Carson looks up at his sister with his usual carefree grin, but it disappears once he sees her anxious expression.

“Hey, Grace,” he says, clearly concerned as he steps away from his eager companion. “You okay?”

Grace nods and replies, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I think I’d like to go home now.”

Carson’s brows shoot up and he blinks in surprise. “Oh…uh, you sure? It’s still early?”

“I am,” Grace insists. “Please, Carson.”

Carson glances over his shoulder at the redhead waiting nearby and I can tell he’s reluctant to abandon a sure thing. Seizing on the open opportunity, I step forward, snagging Carson’s attention.

“I can take her home,” I say. “I’m about ready to head out anyway.”

Grace shoots me an irritated glare.

“It’s okay,” she insists. “I can get an Uber or something…”

Carson shakes his head. “No way, Grace. I drove you here and I’m not going to have you go off with some stranger in a city you’re not familiar with. Either you go with Reece, or I take you.”

Grace stares up at her brother, and I can see the frustration flashing in her gaze. She glances around, as if looking for a way out. Before she can respond, though, Carson turns to me with a smile.

“You sure you don’t mind?” he asks me.

“Not at all,” I assure him, shooting a look toward Grace, but she’s pointedly not looking at me and is scowling down at the floor. “Happy to help. Plus, I’m stone-cold sober, so happy to be the DD.”

Carson claps me on the back, a grin spreading across his face.

"You're a lifesaver, man." He shoots Grace a look of brotherly concern before returning his attention to his eager redhead. "Let me know when you get home, okay?"

"I will," Grace murmurs, still avoiding my gaze. With one last glance in our direction, Carson turns around and returns to his companion, who’s waiting by the pool table for him.

I look at Grace and she takes a step back, her hands nervously clenching and unclenching at her side. There's a tangible tension between us that I can't ignore, but I am unsure of how to defuse it.

"Grace," I begin slowly, "I didn't mean..."

"I know," she interrupts me, her gaze finally meeting mine. Her eyes are wide and vulnerable, the panic from earlier replaced with something that looks like regret. "I know what you meant."

The intensity in her eyes catches me off guard. She's resolute, yet worried; bold, yet skittish. It's an intriguing combination.

"Can we just… can we go?" she says softly, avoiding my gaze once again as she turns towards the exit.

It's clear she doesn't want to talk about what almost happened on the dancefloor, so I simply nod, guiding her gently by the small of her back as we weave through the crowd and out into the cool night air.

We don’t speak as we walk, and despite the potential awkwardness of it all, it's not particularly uncomfortable. If anything, it gives me time to consider what had transpired on the dance floor — our heated words and that almost-kiss.

As we reach my car parked down the block under a flickering lamplight, I pause before opening the door for her. She’s still not looking at me.

“Grace,” I say, and this time, she meets my gaze. “I meant what I said back there. Every word.”

Her brow furrows slightly and she looks somewhat taken aback, but before she can say anything, I open the passenger door for her. She gets in and I circle around to take the wheel.

When I slide into the driver’s seat and start the car, she says, “Just so you know, the only reason I’m letting you drive me home is because I didn’t want to make Carson suspicious by refusing to go with you. This doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a ride.”

I nod. “Sure, sure, I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not reading into it at all.”

Honestly, I don’t care why she’s letting me take her home. I’m just grateful to have some more one-on-one time with her. It’s another chance to convince her to dump her stupid rule about dating hockey players and give me a real shot with her. Because I refuse to give up on this girl. I see a future with her, one I desperately want. And I always get what I want.

I shift the car into gear and pull out into traffic, determination thrumming through me. I’m going to prove to her that we could have something good and that I’m worth taking a risk on. She might not want to admit it now, but Miami wasn’t the one-off fling she insists that it was. It was the start of something much bigger.