Chapter Three
He was waiting for me.
I knew as soon as I re-entered the main hall. I could feel his eyes on me as I stood just shy of the doorway scanning the crowds but I just couldn’t see him.
The ball was in full swing now. Some guests were still seated at their tables while others circulated. Although the music had started there were only two women on the dance-floor. I tilted my head slightly as I watched them. What was that…the Funky Chicken?
As one fell against the other in a fit of giggles, I spotted Pete and his girlfriend doing the whole networking thing. His arm was around her waist and—surprise, surprise—he wasn’t talking. Instead she was talking ten to the dozen to a group of other surgeons, and patted his arm when he tried to say something. The ‘be quiet darling and let the grown-ups talk’ pat that he’d treated me to so often. I couldn’t help the small burst of smugness; served him right to be on the receiving end of crap like that.
A shadowy figure pushed off from the wall and claimed my attention. Claimed? He kidnapped it like a barbarian invader and carried it off back to his lair like some sort of slave girl.
Jared.
He had changed. The suit was the same, the same slightly mussed hair and dark stubble, but the laughing, joking charmer I’d arrived with had gone. He stalked toward me, violence and danger in every line of his body and a feral cast to his features as he emerged from the darkness of the shadows.
My breathing hitched, arousal swimming through my veins thickly as I read the lust in his eyes. Read the hard control written into every line of his body as his hand shot out to capture my wrist, fingers like iron manacles around my tender flesh. He yanked and I stumbled, free hand spread over his solid chest as I caught my balance.
Amber ringed his eyes and a soft growl worked loose from his throat. His free arm wrapped around my waist, holding me tight against him. A little too snug for comfort but I didn’t care. It was the ‘I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go’ kind of hold. His body heat beat at my skin. Wolves obviously ran hotter than humans. I filed the nugget of information away as I met him look for look.
It didn’t occur to me to run, despite the fact that he was a werewolf. A lethal, paranormal killing machine. My mom would have freaked, screaming that I was a couple of seconds from a horrific death at the teeth of a maniacal furball, but I felt…safe.
Desirable. Wanted.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a request, nor did he wait for an answer. Almost before the words had processed in my addled brain he let me go, towing me toward the dance floor with the single-minded force of a tsunami. As we reached it, the music changed, the rhythm that of the tango. He spun me around into his arms where I expected the close hold shuffle to the music I was used to from my previous boyfriends.
Instead he pulled me closer and started to dance. Like seriously dance. Holding me tight in a ballroom hold, he led me into the opening steps of a very saucy tango, smiling a little at my gasp as I stumbled to recall the steps from last year’s dance lessons. With a good partner though, my body remembered faster than my mind and moved of its own accord as he dipped and twirled me about the floor.
He could dance.
He moved easily, with a grace I hadn’t expected, our bodies less than an inch apart as the music surrounded us. He picked a diagonal across the floor, empty save for us. His thigh shoved between mine, a strong column of strength as he turned us lightly and easily. Totally in control of me and my body, he shifted his hold and dipped me back over his arm. His heart beat against mine as he pulled me upright. Our gazes locked for a second until he moved again and we were off.
I loved to dance, loved the feeling of connection with the music and with my partner. But this…this wasn’t dancing. This was seduction to music. Pure, carnal eroticism wrapped in a veneer of civility and sophistication.
Fuck. Me.
I was done for.
He nudged the speed up, the steps faster and the spins tighter as the music built into a dramatic crescendo. At the last minute, he twisted and pulled me into arms. We were nose to nose with our arms around each other. My breathing rasped with exertion as I held his gaze. No embarrassment, just honesty. My breasts mashed against his chest. The feeling of the crisp cotton shirt, rubbing against my skin above the dress as I breathed, was an unexpected turn on. The music crashed to a close. Applause exploded around us and I blinked, realising that the whole room had been watching.
“No, don’t,” he ordered. I tried to pull free, anything to get off the dance floor and away from being the centre of attention. “You were amazing. Don’t hide.”