What was his problem? “I have no idea—”
“Fine,” he said. The angry lines in his expression relaxed, but his posture remained slightly stiffer than it’d been minutes ago. “We’ll go with that for now.”
“If you would tell me what you’re talking about—”
“If you’ve truly only come here for the drinks, I recommend you find another place next time.”
“That won’t be necessary. I don’t go out much.”
“I can tell.”
Okay, so maybe I was being a little edgy. Ivory shouldn’t have let the hermit out to play. “Point taken.”
He rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “Was that a yes or a no to dancing?”
I shook my head, but my smile said ‘yes’. Not to mention Marcus was still staring—and in the least intriguing way. He gave me the creeps. If I was dancing with someone else, that might get the weirdo’s attention off me. I spotted Ivory dancing with another girl, perhaps a friend she’d met here before, and figured one dance without her wouldn’t hurt.
The man across from me stood and offered his hand. My palm warmed as I accepted, but when I rose to join him, my balance shifted. I wobbled, nearly falling right back into my seat.
He hooked his arm around my waist, supporting me against his body, his breath soft on my ear. “Careful there.”
At his sudden embrace, a small shock flashed through my body. After a moment, my vision steadied. With his biceps behind my back and his forearm against my side, I felt somehow smaller and safer at the same time. I tilted my face up, catching his gaze. The candlelight from the table danced inside his irises. He cocked one eyebrow slightly, his amused expression also somehow gentle.
The moment rapidly becoming too intimate, I tensed. I needed to put some distance between us, to ignore the unwanted fluttering in my stomach. I stepped back. The air in the room lacked the warmth and comfort of his body.
“I’m okay,” I said, which could’ve been true, depending on what one’s definition of ‘okay’ was.
We wedged into a small opening in the crowd near the speakers. The burning scent of hot electrical wires replaced the fruity aroma of liquored drinks. He tilted his head down toward me as he stepped tentatively closer, then he rested his hands firmly on my hips, his arms bent at the elbow, relaxed.
I was decidedly not so relaxed.
I peered up at him, unsure what he expected. I’d never danced with a guy before.
Awkwardly, I placed my hands on the front of his shoulders, steadying myself as I swayed with him. A shiver flashed down my spine at the firmness of his body. How could he be so solid and still so graceful? His hands easily covered my hipbones, his fingertips pressing just behind my sides, into the muscles of my back. In that moment, I felt another kind of vulnerability.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my ear. “You all right?”
I nodded, stepping closer and sliding my hands around to the back of his shoulders. I buried my face against his chest, safe from his imploring gaze. He smelled like vanilla and musk and sandalwood, and I tried to commit the intoxicating scent to memory.
What the hell was I doing? I hesitated backward, away from him, but he easily guided me right back, and I had to stifle a gasp as an unexpected shudder ran through my body. The heat radiating from his flesh burned through my dress, the warmth igniting in my stomach and snaking outward in an involuntary arousal.
“My friend is probably looking for me,” I said unconvincingly.
“Ivory?” he asked.
“You know her?”
“Well enough to know she’ll wait.”
There went my iron-clad excuse for getting away from the moment without revealing what an idiot I was.
The seduction of the music wound around us, sinking into my skin and pressing us closer. Each bass note reverberated along my spine, playing over every nerve in my body, and every time his hand grazed a new place on my skin, my want for control melted away, replaced by a desire to return his touch. He trailed his finger across my collarbone, over my shoulder, down my arm.
Soon, the music muffled beneath a cottony sensation in my head. His hands slid up my waist, over my ribs, his thumbs barely grazing the sides of my breasts. My breath caught in my throat, and I smiled nervously.
His jeans rubbed against the bottom of my dress and my bare legs, and the heat there spread over my thighs. This was more than I could handle.
“My name’s Sophia,” I said. It was a little late for introductions, but I wanted to shift the conversation and move as far away from the arousal as possible. “Yours?”
“Charles,” he whispered. His voice sounded clear, as though the music in the room had faded to make room for him to speak. He cleared his throat and dipped his gaze to mine. “I saw you in the woods the other night.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “And through my bedroom window.”
“Yes,” he replied.