He breaks into that grin of his, the one he's famous for, that makes him look absolutely boyish.
Fuckin' babe.
Wish it didn't cause that ache between my legs but fuck, I'm pretty sure he knows it.
He grabs my hand, squeezing it tight as he leads me to the dance floor then pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around me.
Holy crow. It's like being held against a brick wall. We're dancing way too close to each other than we should be and yet even if I felt like putting distance between us I don't think I could. That iron grip from earlier is back but this time it's holding every part of me.
And just as I suspected, the man can dance. His movements are fluid, graceful. We don't just rock back and forth like kids in a high school gym, we glide.
I close my eyes briefly and can't help but breathe him in. He smells delicious.
"Have a good whiff?"
I open my eyes and look up, our faces inches apart as he gazes down at me, lips twitching in amusement.
"It's okay," he goes on, his breath smelling cherry sweet, "I'm used to fans trying to smell me."
///
I don't give him the satisfaction of acting embarrassed. "I'm not a fan of yours. Believe me."
"You say that," he says, lowering his mouth to my ear. He whispers. "But I bet if you give me two minutes, I can change your mind."
I try to ignore the wave of shivers rushing down my spine. "Do I dare ask how you plan to do that?" I ask but my voice is uneven.
"I think you know," he murmurs, one of his large hands slowly slipping down the small of my back and over my ass where he gives me a subtle grab.
My eyes widen and I look around, wondering if anyone is watching us.
Actually someone is.
Fucking Casey. He's dancing with a woman called Mona, staring at us openly as he does so. His forehead is lined in surprise. I glare at him until he looks away.
"I'm more of a show, don't tell, kinda guy," Emmett adds.
"You're so full of yourself," I manage to say, bringing my attention back to him.
"With good reason," he says, his voice becoming husky as lips brush against my neck. "Just what I thought. You taste sweet. Only your attitude is sour."
"Excuse me?" I say to him, pulling back to glare at him.
"It's okay, I'm starting to like it."
"You're earning it."
"You're earning this," he says, pressing himself against my hip. My god. He has a fucking erection. "Earning every single inch."
Part of me is horrified. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? What makes him think he can just shove his cock against me and I'll be okay with it? If he does this all the time, it's no wonder he gets in fights with people. Cocks aren't hugs you can just go around handing out.
But then the other part of me is insanely curious and, yeah, turned-on. Because he feels fucking divine. Even just like this, I can feel his entire hard length and it's beyond impressive. And the fact that it's because of me is something I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around.
"You still want to take that bet?" he asks. "Two minutes to change your mind about me."
I swallow hard and give him a pointed look. "Two minutes isn't very long."
"I'm a realist," he says, glancing over my shoulder. "I've got my boat right down there."
"No thanks," I tell him quickly before I can be tempted. I've had my fair share of one-night stands and hook-ups and lord knows I need to get laid by someone who knows what he's doing and with his cock and his strength and the way he moves, I have no doubt he'd be a sure bet. But sleeping with Emmett would be a mistake and one I'd probably hate myself for tomorrow.
Even though he would, no doubt, be the most gorgeous man I'd ever be with.
Luckily, the song ends and I manage to pull myself away from him. "I think I need another drink."
I take off toward the bar, hoping I leave Emmett behind me.
Chapter 4
Emmett
Shit. Alyssa is stubborn as hell.
And I'm standing in the middle of the dance floor, watching her fine ass as it goes to the bar.
I breathe in deep through my nose and adjust my pants while flashing a smile at the tiny senior couple dancing next to me as the next song starts up.
She can't lose me that fast, though.
I stride over to the bar and just as she's about to put her order in to the bartender, I place my hand on her shoulder and intercept.
"Two Manhattans," I tell him smoothly, "and hold the liquor."
The bartender gives us a look and then shrugs.