Chapter 21

21

June

The warmth of those hands on my hips sends a shiver through me. I didn't expect his palms to be this big, his hold this confident. In fact, I started dancing with him precisely because I knew he wouldn't pose a threat to me. And not only because my mind was occupied with the man I shouldn't be spending any time thinking about; it's because I was confident no one else would be as handsome as him, no one else would be as well built as him. And while he's never held me before, if he did, it'd feel like this. How weird that I'd think that when it's the hands of a stranger on me.

A stranger who pulls me in, so my back is molded to his firm, broad chest. A chest I didn't think would be as sculpted as this feels. I sway with the music, and he sways with me. Around us, the crowd presses in. A man stumbles in my direction, but the guy behind me throws up his hand to hold him at bay. I notice that his biceps are thick enough to strain the sleeves of his jacket. Was the stranger who's dancing with me wearing a jacket? But then his hold on my hips tightens, and all thoughts vanish.

A frisson of heat arrows to the space between my legs. And when he slides one hand around to flatten it over my stomach, my entire body shudders. Oh my god, oh my god. It's unnatural I'm having such a reaction to this man. It's also unreal that I'm allowing him to take such liberties with my body. That I feel so ready. That he feels so familiar.

Apparently, my boss is not the only one who can wring such sensations from my body?

Confusion clouds my mind. Is it possible there's someone else out there who can make me feel this unsettled? This hot, this antsy, so my skin feels too tight for my body.

The beats of the techno music bump up a few notches. The bass sinks into my blood, the drumbeats pumping up the adrenaline in my body. I find myself responding, the thoughts in my mind overridden by the thumping of the bass. My muscles relax. I allow the stranger to maneuver my body in sync with the pulsating vibrations.

Oh wow, I didn't realize how much I missed the feeling of freedom that dancing brings me. And when you have a partner who moves with you, who molds his body to yours like he anticipates what you're going to do next… When he slides his hands to the sides of your body, grasps your hips, and fits you exactly over the considerable bulge at his crotch, it's as if you're fucking right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone. And it's thrilling and you feel like an exhibitionist. You feel so, so good.

I throw my head back, so I've pushed it into his chest, then raise my arms above my head. I sway my hips in time to the music, spread my legs and when the music dips, I drop down with it. It's sudden enough that his grasp moves up to hold my biceps, and when I move in tandem with the techno bass to spring up, he slides his thick fingers up my arms to twine them with mine.

He applies gentle pressure, and I allow him to lead me. With a flick of his wrist, he thrusts me forward, as much as the crowded dance floor will allow. Then he reels me back. And again. Without allowing me to turn my head, he glides his large palms down my arms, over the sides of my chest. His fingertips brush up against the edges of my breasts, and I shiver. My nipples tighten into pinpoints of hurt. My pussy clenches. I part my lips in a silent groan.

Whoa, how can he know my body so well? How can he be this confident in the way he maneuvers my body ?

He floats his palms down to, once more, squeeze my hips. Then, with a firm grasp, he propels me forward, and when he turns me and brings me back, my gaze connects with the strip of skin on his chest revealed by the open collar of his shirt.

I'm struck by the tendrils of dark hair curling at the opening at his lapels. By the bead of sweat which pools at the hollow between his clavicles. At the strong cords of his throat. At the firm square jaw with the very slight dip in his chin. The dip which is almost as familiar as the cushion of his lower lip and the subtle V-shaped indentation between the two small vertical curves of his upper lip, and that regal hooked nose of his. And above that, those icy eyes.

I know it's him before I meet his gaze. A part of me anticipated it, perhaps, from the moment I felt his big hands on me. No one else could have held me with such confidence. My sub-conscious knew it was my boss before the rest of me caught up, yet the impact of it is like I've rammed into a brick wall.

A shock ripples up my spine. His gaze cuts through me and holds me immobile. This close, I can make out the striations in the scar tissue on his cheek. The way the marks slash up right past the corner of his eye. A millimeter more and he might have lost his eye. I swallow. Once more, I'm struck by how the scar not only adds to the air of danger that clings to him, but also how it lends an air of wounded vulnerability to him. The combination appealed to me the day I first met him. And now, with his hands on me, and his body surrounding me, and his scent and his heat penetrating every pore in my body, I can't deny that the combination is my kryptonite.

This close, he's mesmerizing. This close, there's no mistaking how aroused he is. It's evident in the dilation of his pupils. In the flare of his nostrils. The tight set to his lips. The muscle that ticks at his jaw. The way his arousal is trapped between us. He glares at me, and a shiver of anticipation pinches my nerve-endings. A cloud of heat seems to spool off of him, and when it crashes into me, I gasp. I try to pull away, but his hold on me tightens. His fingers dig almost painfully into the curve of my hips.

"Let me go," I whisper.

Around us, the music increases in tempo. Yet he must hear me, for he shakes his head. "No."

I feel the growl that vibrates up his chest. Feel my mouth open and shut. Feel my insides twist with lust. I squeeze my thighs together, and liquid heat pools in my belly. Ohmigod. This pull toward him is crazy. A few more seconds, and I'm going to be climbing him like a tree, begging him to kiss me and throw me down on the floor, and take me in front of everyone. And I can't do that. Not when he belongs to someone else.

"We can't do this." I try to pull away, but his grasp tightens.

"What do you mean?"

"You're engaged."

"Not yet." His lips firm.

"But you will be."

His eyes blaze. In them, is anger, and need, and lust. So much lust. He wants me. From the way he handled my body earlier, I know he's attracted to me. But what I see in his eyes is more than that. It's a kind of yearning that my body recognizes, for I feel it, too.

Sometime in the last few seconds, I've stopped struggling. Around us, people move and grind up against each other. But between us, there's silence, the kind filled with unsaid words and unexpressed emotions. The kind that pushes down on my shoulders and into my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. Then, someone knocks into me from behind, pushing me into his chest. My breasts flatten against those sculpted pecs, and it's as if I've stuck my finger into an electric socket. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

"You have no right. No right to muscle in when I'm dancing with someone else," I fume.

His features grow harder. A vein pops at his temple. His blue eyes burn with a wintry inferno. Anger thrums off of him in waves and crashes into my chest with such force, I gasp.

"You're my employee." His words are like arrows made of sleet, slicing into my chest.

" Only your employee, and nothing else."

"That's right." He nods. "And, as such, I'm responsible for your safety. I could not stand by and watch that man have his paws all over you."

"But you can?" I spit out.

"I'm your boss."

"Are you listening to yourself?" I shove at him, and he releases me. " You invited me to that lunch. You made me watch when you declared your intent to marry someone else. You did it on purpose."

I expect him to deny it, but he nods. "I did."

I'm so shocked, my mouth falls open. "You admit that you set me up to watch that scene unfold so you could...what? Hurt me?"

"I did it so you'd realize there could be no future for us."

My heart feels like it's going to explode out of my chest. My pulse rate spikes. There's a twister of emotions churning in my stomach, and I feel like I'm going to be sick. And for a moment, I relish the image of vomiting on him. "Message received."

I turn to leave, when he growls, "I owe you orgasms."

My insides clench. Oh god. And I so want them. Dancing with him and rubbing up against him has turned me into a miasma of throbbing need. I want to turn and run into his arms. I want to drop to my knees and beg him to use my mouth any which way he wants. I want to bend over and ask him to spank me, then tie me up and use my every hole to gratify him, but if I did that... I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Not when he's made it clear he's chosen someone else over me. At least, I have that much pride. I do.

I tip up my chin, then half turn so he can see my profile. "You can keep yours. I'll get them from somebody else."