A Beautiful Distraction(97)

He’d never imagined he’d walk through those doors and see this woman sitting here. His steps stalled like a goddamned idiot when he noticed her. And he’d just stood there, watching her as if she were untouchable, unreachable—even when she was only steps from his reach. Her golden brown hair cascaded down her back in large, thick waves and he’d wanted to move his hands through the strands so he could push it over her shoulder and view her long, delicate neck.

She was here, and he had no doubt in his mind that she was here for him. And that fact alone had caused his feet to remain cemented to the floor—because it was going to take an act from the big man himself to keep him from laying her back on that table and sinking his cock balls-deep inside her.

But when she’d stood from her seat, his paralyzed limbs had found the mobility they needed the moment the tangible tension seeped from her body. He could see the stiffness in her shoulders and discomfort in the slight expansion of her back from her quickened breaths.

And he’d gone to her.

Spinning her around, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. He was expecting her sweet, subtle shiver from his touch, and she didn’t disappoint.

“You look unbelievable,” he said, barely able to shift his eyes from her pillowy red lips. Her forced smile might as well have punched him in the gut. Seeing that phony smile she was trying to pass off as real fuckin’ stung.

“You look good too.”

He pulled her through the room to the small dance floor in front of all the tables and pulled her into his arms—and she let him. The plunging back of her dress dipped low into a V, the point connecting just above her ass. And the scanty design allowed his fingers the pleasure of skimming down her spine from her nape to the sexy twin dimples above her ass.

She slinked into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she softened against him, just the way he liked to feel her—affected and needy.

“So I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t surprised to see you sitting there, babe.”

She didn’t respond; she just burrowed her head into his neck. And dammit, she just fit.

“Did I tell you how fuckin’ beautiful you look? Because from where I’m standing every man’s eyes are on you right now, and I can’t say that I’m not proud to be the one holding you.”

She lifted her head and looked around. “They’re looking because we’re the only people on the dance floor.”

“Think what you think, babe.” He pulled her in tighter, moving her against him as they danced. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

“Rafe, don’t. Okay? Just dance with me.”

“Then what’re you doing here?” he asked, leaning back to look at her.

She met his eyes quickly, then returned her face to his neck. “I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have danced while you were at the club. I did it because I knew you’d be watching, and I wanted to make you mad, and I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s what you wanted to apologize for? Babe, yeah, I was pissed. That tends to happen a lot. And I’m sure you’ll piss me off a hell of a lot more.”

Her body tensed in his arms. “Rafe, my coming here doesn’t change anything.”

Bullshit. It changed everything.

“Then why’d you come?”

She shrugged. “Jade bribed me with the dress.”

He laughed. “Remind me to thank Jade.”

His fingers grasped her chin and forced her to look at him, his thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and he watched her eyes liquefy into dripping honey. But then she turned her head away from his hold.

“By the end of the night, you’ll want it. You’ll want me to touch you.”

“That’s never been the problem, Rafe. I’ve always wanted your touch. I want it now.”

He sucked oxygen into his lungs. Curling his hand around her nape, he arched her head back and dragged his bottom lip up the center of her throat. A breathy moan met his ears, swirling unrelenting passion through his body.

“You can’t say things to me like that, gorgeous,” he muttered against her skin. “Not when I’m struggling, not when I’m hangin’ on by a fuckin’ thread here trying to keep my hands in line.” Moving to her ear, he whispered, “Not when all I can think about is the way I know you’d feel beneath this dress. The way it’d feel to run my fingers up your thighs . . .” He stepped into her, his thick leg pushing effortlessly between hers, causing the split in her dress to open up. The fabric of his pants rasped against the suddenly sensitive skin of her inner thigh and her legs softened slightly beneath the sensation. “Or the way it’d feel to bury myself inside you.”