Every Kiss(70)

“So what you’re saying is that you’ve never been dancing in a club, right?” Wes is stunned. “How is that even possible? From what the hostess told me while we were waiting for our table, it gets kinda wild in here after eleven or so. You’re getting all kinds of cherries popped lately, aren’t you kid?”

Shane bumps his shoulder against hers when she slumps into her seat, mortified that Wes said that so loudly. “I’m happy to be your first everything. When the music starts, we’re going out there.” He puts a finger over her lips when she starts to protest. “Don’t even try to tell me that one slow dance at my mom’s banquet counts. This is totally different. I promise you’ll love it.”

Three glasses of wine later, despite the fact that we’ve eaten dinner, I’m feeling quite warm and fuzzy. My lips are even feeling a little tingly, so I know I’d better slow down a little. Which is good in theory, I guess. But when the music starts, it does strange things to me. I want to let loose, have a few more drinks, and dance my ass off. This all goes back to my favorite two things about parties—dancing and kissing. I can handle the dancing part, but making out with a guy might be a little more trouble than it’s worth.

Wes has been staring at me all night long, and more than once, I’ve caught him looking at my mouth as if he could devour it right then and there. I bet that he’s had enough to drink to be convinced to kiss me, but at what cost? Do I really want a repeat of the night of the banquet? Okay, a repeat of the sex would be amazing, but I’m thinking about the morning after when he ran away. I really don’t want to feel that again. It sucked.

Shane drags Makenna out of the booth and onto the dance floor as soon as the first thumps of bass pound into the air. I can’t wait to see this. I’m interested to see if she actually dances like she does with me at home, or if she freezes. It could go either way, but I’m leaning toward her freezing.

“Why don’t you go out there and show her how it’s done?” Wes challenges.

“Wesley Baxter, you’re just trying to get me out there, so you can watch me shake my ass.”

He throws his hands up. “Guilty as charged. What if I go out with you?”

“You dance?” Oh, I can’t wait to see this.

“Maybe you should just find out,” he says, sliding all the way around to the other side of the booth to get out. He holds out a hand to me. “Come on.”

I watch Makenna as I approach her, and bless her heart, she’s trying to get into it, but she’s too worried about other people watching her. She looks relieved to see me, so I bump my hip against hers. “Just like we’re at home. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

I’m no hypocrite. I really try to dance like there’s no one else there, but when Wes moves right up against my back and starts grinding on me, I can’t help getting a little caught up in that. I don’t hold anything back. I let the music tell me how to move, and within a few minutes, I find myself moving in perfect rhythm with Wes. His hands slide down my sides to grip my hips, pulling me tight against him. I throw both arms back over my shoulders to link my fingers around the back of his neck, and he surprises me by pressing his face into the crook of my neck, trailing his tongue up from the hollow part and stopping just below my ear, kissing lightly.

Oh my God, that’s amazing. No, wait. This is bad. But oh-so-good. I feel a shift deep in my belly, an immediate heaviness that I have to force myself to ignore before I get myself into trouble.

“Sorry, I just lost my mind for a second,” he whispers into my ear.

I wish he’d lose it permanently.

After a while, Makenna starts to relax and have fun. We all are, dancing one song right after another, until we’re all sweaty and thirsty and pleasantly exhausted.

“Shane and I are going to take a break and get a drink.” She yells over the steady pounding of bass. “Want to come?”

The song changes over into something slower, and Wes grabs my arm. “Uh, I think I’ll dance one more, and then we’ll join you.”

“Okay,” she says, flagging down our waitress as they leave the floor.

Wes pulls me in close, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing me against his firm stomach as we begin swaying back and forth. “You’re a good dancer, Lucy.”

I giggle at him, resting my cheek at the top of his chest. “I forgot all about that name.”

“I don’t forget too much about you, no matter how hard I try.”

“I know what you mean.” I lift my head and look up at him, immediately catching the familiar scent of whiskey on his breath. I want to taste it on his lips, to climb this invisible barrier between us and lose myself in him again. But knowing that I can’t is killing me. It could be the whole “wanting something I can’t have” thing, but I really don’t think so. There’s something more to it, some unknown factor that draws me to him. “I—I think I’m ready to sit down for a bit.”