Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(44)

“I’ll drink to that,” Zeke said, tilting his cup of water toward us.

We all threw back a drink or shot, depending on what we had in hand, and then Clay pulled Giana into him and said, “Ours. You’re a part of this team, too, you know.”

She smiled on a blush, and I looked away a little uncomfortable when they started kissing.

“I want to dance,” Riley said, but instead of pulling Zeke out onto the floor, she hooked my elbow.

I was tugged away before I had the option to decline.

The dance floor was packed, and Riley dragged me through the crowd right up to the front of the DJ. The music was so loud this close to the speakers that I felt it like a heartbeat.

Giana joined us, and together we made a tight little circle. Riley danced without a care in the world, winding her hips and rolling her body to the beat. Giana seemed a bit shy at first, but she closed her eyes, and then slowly, she began to move, too.

I wished I had my pole. I wished I had something strong and sturdy to hold onto, to hold me steady. I loved dancing when I had that chrome partner, but without it? I felt uneasy, like a new baby giraffe figuring out its impossibly long legs.

The neon lights flashed across our faces, fog machine sending a cloud cascading over us in time with the deep bass. It was so dark that with those elements combined, I couldn’t see much other than the DJ above us and the girls where they danced right in front of me.

And I knew that meant that, likely, no one else could see me, either.

I let out a long exhale at that, and then I ran my hands up my sides, over my head, and held them there as my body began to move. I took cues from the beat, which was tapering down from a high-energy house song to one that was smoother, slower, the beat heavier somehow.

I felt it in my soul as I moved, and I surrendered, letting myself be taken by the music.

I didn’t notice when Riley was pulled into Zeke, or when Giana was peeled off the floor by Clay.

But I did notice the precise moment Holden came up behind me.

He didn’t touch me, didn’t put a hand on my hip or pull me flush against him. He just stood there, right behind me, one inch of distance between us.

He was putting the power in my hands.

It felt like a challenge, like a dare, and that one shot had me feeling just brave enough to take it.

I was still rolling my hips as I took a tiny step back, and it was just enough to connect us, for my ass to meet the zipper of his jeans. My head went light at the touch, my next breath shallow as I waited to see what he’d do next. It was just a small touch, one he could easily pull away from.

But he leaned in, instead.

No, he swooped in, like that one point of connection had been the permission he was desperately seeking.

One hand found my waist while the other swept my hair off my neck, and he cradled his chin there, his breath warming my skin as he lined his hips up with mine. I arched my back, leaning my head against his chest and closing my eyes as I let the music take control.

The dress I wore was a gun-metal, metallic gray. It was spaghetti strapped and lined with lace. I’d found it at a thrift store over the summer, and it was far too thin to be wearing on a cool fall night like this one. But I’d suffered the cold outside because I knew it’d be hot in here.

Holden must have been warm, too, because he’d shed his sweater, and he wore a button-up now that had the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. I crawled my fingertips over one of his forearms, digging my nails into the flesh just enough to bite.

He hissed a groan, the sound like the birth of an addiction as it reverberated over my neck and met the shell of my ear. Holden angled his head down, the tip of his nose in my hair as he rasped, “I saw you dancing last night.”

I arched my back, grabbing his hands and moving them a little lower, to my hips. His fingers bunched the fabric there, feeling how thin it was, how little separated us.

I feigned innocence. “Did you now?”

“You know I did,” he challenged, his voice low in my ear as we moved together. Another blast of the fog machine covered us, and I felt his fingers bunch the fabric of my dress a bit more. “And you know I loved it, too.”

I reveled in the admission, in hearing him say it, in knowing he’d seen me and hadn’t been able to look away.

“Was it the heels you loved most?”

“No,” he answered immediately, and he held me tighter to him, letting me feel the hardening length of him against my backside as he lowered his lips closer to my ear. “What I loved most was seeing you down on your knees.”

Chills fell like a waterfall over me, from the point where his breath warmed my skin all the way down to my toes. He smirked against the skin behind my ear as his fingers followed the chills, running down the length of my arm, up over my rib cage until he found my hip again. I knew from his vantage point, from how thin my dress was that he could see my nipples hard and aching against the fabric.

I couldn’t hide how he affected me, not even in the dark.

I licked my lips. “Well, too bad for you, I don’t get on my knees for anyone other than my pole.”

I rolled my ass hard up the length of him before dropping it back down, and he let out a throaty laugh.

“We’ll see about that.”

Another blast of the fog machine covered us, and I knew I couldn’t blame that fruity pink shot — no matter how big it was — for what I did next. I grabbed one of his hands, sliding it up my waist, over my ribs to rest just below my breast. I let him feel the bottom swell of it, let him understand that only the thin, shiny fabric of this dress kept me covered.