Bait (Wake, #1)(3)

I was going to hate myself in the morning, but I did, in fact, want his trouble. I was too curious.

“Compromise?” I asked.

Casey's dark eyebrows shot up at my challenge. I’d caught him off-guard.

“I'll leave your trouble over here, like you advise. If you follow my trouble over there.” The bass was thumping and it sounded like everyone was about to get their sexy back and that included me.

Acting so wanton was out of character; it must have been the beer.

Best-case scenario, we’d have a great time dancing and I’d make a new friend. Best worst-case scenario, I'd finally get those dirty clothes off.

He was clever man. I could tell. He asked no questions and simply picked up his beer, grabbed my free hand and started us in the direction of the dance floor. He turned around and walked backward with the sexiest sway to his shoulders. Then, he stopped short of the dance floor.

“I've already warned you. You won't be able to get enough. Now, here's your chance to stop this, while you still have the willpower.” He was both menacing and tempting.

My warm cheeks tightened and I couldn't help but cackle out loud with a resounding, “Ha!” I pointed my finger straight at his face and bent over. He was kidding and flirting, but also I knew he spoke some truth. It didn't matter though, because I still followed that cocky man.

Playful and shamefaced, he admitted, “My moves are potent. You've been warned, honeybee.” His hips began swaying in time to the beat. He danced right where he stood. He was joking, but as soon as his body touched mine I knew it wouldn't be enough.

Honeybee? Could he be any more swoon-worthy?

“What’s with the honeybee thing? You have an insect fetish?” I asked. Praying to God that I was wrong. I mean, it was likely that I was way off base, but you never knew. People were weird.

“I don’t know. Your eyes kind of look like honey and your name starts with a B. Plus, you sort of have this buzz about you.” His eyebrows bunched together and he waited to see if I bought it, then added, “Maybe I do have a thing for bugs.”

We both tried not to laugh, mouths puckered.

He said, “I don’t know why I picked it, I just did. I can stop.”

“No. Don’t. I like it.”

We made our way onto the dance floor in time for the end of the song and for another one to begin. There was that awkward silence in between songs. We looked at each other expectantly. That was about the time when I realized I was f*cked. I knew the next song when it began. Casey's eyes lit up like he would have picked it himself. And then there was that smile again.

He took the beer from my hand and placed it on the nearby ledge and asked, “Okay, honeybee. You in?” I wasn't sure what he was asking me, but my answer was yes. He only waited for the start of my smile before he had his hands on my hips, pulling me into him.

He held me tight. His right hand circled all the way around my lower half and his left ran straight up the center of my back. My chest was pressed beneath his and I could feel how hard his pecs were.

Instinctively, I brought my hands around his neck and clasped them together. I felt shy and possibly guilty.

I had a boyfriend.

I had an almost fiancé.

I was a ho.

I was about to stop the whole charade; my arms began to slip from our embrace. But before I could retreat, he put his nose against my cheek and breathed into my ear. “Hold on to me, Blake.”

Willingly, I tightened my hold on him. And then he moved us. His hips swayed our bodies side-to-side and back-and-forth and Led Zeppelin begged the girl, “Don't go.”

Casey sang along immodestly the whole time. With every “Oh” and “Ay” I felt him vibrate. There was no turning back. I shouldn't have, but I wanted him. I should have stopped, but I also knew that I wouldn't. I couldn't. It felt too right.

The stubble on his cheek scratched against my forehead. Our bodies created friction everywhere. My hands were hot and had clenched fists full of Casey's shirt. I could not get close enough. I didn't know this man. He didn't know me, but hell if the two people dancing on that dance floor didn't fit in the most fundamental of ways.

The hand he had possessively resting on my spine trailed its way into my hair. His long fingers fanned across my skull which created a tingly sensation down to my toes. He clutched the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head away from his.

I smelled the delicious beer on his lips as he confessed, “I like your trouble.”

My words failed. I didn't know if it was the beer, the music, or the man attached to me, but I felt pliant.

Anything could happen.

Anything at all.

Looking back, it was the first night of so many that I thought those exact words. Anything I could get from Casey Moore was better than nothing at all. I would take any scrap of this man I was offered. That's the night my heart split into two equal and separate pieces. That's the night I gave one to a perfect stranger, and the remaining piece felt fuller even being left in half.

We danced forever. Our bodies moved easily to the rhythms of songs, both fast and slow. I forgot where I was and who I was with. I especially forgot about who I wasn't with and, I should have paid so much more attention to that.

“Here come the lovebirds,” Casey said looking over my shoulder. Weren't they dancing, too? I looked around and the bar was almost empty and we were the only couple on the floor.