She squinted at Holt again. He leaned into Barbie, and spoke slowly into her ear. Barbie shivered and rested a hand on Holt’s thigh. Lydia was two seconds from storming over there and forcibly removing it, but then she remembered that he didn’t want her to be his. She hadn’t even seen him since he’d told her he wanted to be her friend, saved her from Sam, and then left. So he was free to do what he pleased.
And so was she.
“Absolutely.” She downed her drink way too fast, then stood on her feet. The room spun, but she didn’t care. She needed to do something to take her mind off of Holt and all the things that came with him. He’d obviously done the same to her. “Let’s go.”
Paul grabbed her hand and brought her out on the floor. The second he found an empty spot he was on her. He danced, but his hands roamed places they didn’t need to. Nothing crazy or improper, but close enough to make her tenser than she should have been. Maybe it was because of the earlier encounter with Sam, or maybe it was because somewhere behind her, Holt was hitting on Barbie…but for some reason, she wasn’t feeling it.
Determined to stick it out through the dance, she matched the guy’s moves. He was actually a pretty good dancer. And by the time they’d finished the first song, she’d changed her mind about leaving. She was actually having fun, and she hadn’t had fun in way too long. But she wouldn’t be going home with the guy. He was a distraction from real life, and nothing more.
The next song cued, and she grinned at Paul. “This is fun,” she shouted.
“Yeah, it is!” he shouted back, slipping his hands behind her back. “You’re a good dancer.”
His fingers rested right over her butt, but didn’t touch. He kept it PG-13. And, really, once she was over the disappointment of him not being Holt, he seemed like a pretty cool guy. Too bad his touch didn’t light her on fire like Holt’s. Leaning in, she replied, “Thank you. I—”
“Excuse me,” said a voice she knew better than her own. “May I cut in?”
Paul looked at her, his face full of disappointment. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no. To send Holt away. But that wasn’t going to happen. “Can you give us a minute, please?” she asked Paul.
He nodded once, his eyes on Holt. “Sure thing.”
After he left, she crossed her arms. “What’s up?”
“We’re on the dance floor, so we should probably dance,” he said, dipping his head down so he could speak in her ear without shouting. “Dance with me, Lyd?”
Her heart twisted at the soft question. The way he used her nickname never failed to make her quiver, which was silly, really. It was just a name. “Sure.”
They started moving to the music, which was an admittedly slower beat than the song before it. His hips moved in a way that she didn’t think was possible, and he kept his hand on her lower back the whole time. His touch burned through her thin shirt. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she wasn’t wearing one at all, from how distinctly she felt him. Knock it off, Lydia. He’s not interested.
“Why did you come over here?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the man, who was driving her insane without even trying. “Isn’t Barbie going to miss you?”
He cocked a brow. “Is that her name? I didn’t ask.”
“Do you always flirt with people without asking their names?”
“All the time.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, I never plan on seeing them again…come morning. Except with you.”
For some reason, knowing he had a protocol made her sick to her stomach. “Sorry for ruining your thing. Though, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want.”
He rolled his hips in a way that screamed sex. Dirty, dirty sex. “We’re in the same bar, so I kind of did have to see you.”
“Not really.” She swayed, and he stared at her hips. When he glanced back up, he wore a naughty smirk. The same one that had pulled her under his spell the other night. “You could have kept talking to Barbie, and I could have kept dancing with Paul, and this wouldn’t be happening.”
“Ah, but it’s not that easy.” He led her toward an alcove, never breaking beat once. “I saw you, and then I saw him, and I had to step in.”
Her heart fluttered. “Why?”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” He tugged her into the shadowed hall, the darkness enveloping them both. She stood still, her hands fisted at her sides, as he circled her, like a shark with its prey. She swore she felt his fingers brush her hip, but it might have been her imagination. “Stop friends from making mistakes?”