Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(14)

“You smile a lot when you’re with me,” he says, smiling himself. “It’s the kind of thing that could give a guy like me a big head.”

“Maybe I think you’re funny.” My voice has a husky quality I didn’t intend. Under the dim lights of the dance floor and the fading buzz from my line dancing, I find this all very fun.

Davis hums his response. I don’t hear it. I feel it work through his torso and rumble from his chest to my breasts.

That’s when we lock eyes for the count of three.

Four.

Five.

Before I decide to, I’m leaning in to bite his full bottom lip. His tongue touches mine tentatively, and our mouths mate. The heat engulfing me is as sudden as a brushfire in a drought. I tighten my arms around his neck, wanting to be closer, pushing deeper—wanting more than he’s giving me.

He’s holding back. Because we’re in public? Or is he putting me in my place?

There’s only one solution to this sort of relentless attraction—only one way to dull the throb pounding its way from my gut to the space between my legs.

I finger his bottom lip and cock my head to one side.

“I’ve decided on a package,” I say loud enough for him to hear.

“That so?”

I nod, lick my lips, and say, “The full package.”

His grin lights the room, but instead of taking my hand and leading me out of here, he surprises me by saying, “Let’s finish this dance first.”

He continues the slow, intentional swaying body to body to the beat of the music. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but I’d enjoy it a lot more if we were moving like this naked.

I thread my fingers together behind his neck and lean in to tease him. “Are we slow-dancing because you have no rhythm?”

I pull back to see his lips quirk, his eyelids heavy.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you can’t dance, Davis. Lots of guys have two left feet.”

The beat of the music shifts into another fast song. Without warning, he braces my hips with both hands and begins to move. Like…really move. He crushes me close and backs me across the floor, his eyes on mine. I’m forced to follow his lead or face-plant on the floor.

I keep up—barely.

He spins me, pressing my back to his front. He hoists my arms overhead and literally does the Dirty Dancing move where he drags his fingers down the side of my breast and over my ribs. His solid chest presses against my back as he moves.

His pelvis grinds into my ass before he spins me again to face him. I keep rhythm with him, matching his steps. He wears an expression of sheer smug satisfaction, and I’m so impressed I can’t dredge up so much as a believable eye-roll.

The beat thumps on, but before the song ends, he dips me—a literal dip. The club flips upside down as I give him my weight and drop my head back.

Everyone watches.

When the world rights itself, my head is slightly dizzy and the crowd breaks into applause.

Davis is grinning, knowing he has me.

I like that he has me.

At his side I exit the floor, his hand in mine.

This time he doesn’t hesitate to walk to the door.





Davis


Grace’s name is apt. The woman moves gracefully. Seamlessly.

I watched her on that dance floor as I tried to enjoy the pathetic excuse for a beer I was forced to order in lieu of my usual. I watched the angle of her head as she shook her curls. The elegant line of her neck leading to her arms and down to the bell curve of hips that popped and swayed to the beat. I hadn’t planned on joining her until she shot me a smile.

That was as good as an invitation.

Surprising her with a few of my smooth moves was fun, but watching her keep up was infinitely more fun. It made me wonder if our sparring and one-upping would continue in the bedroom. There, in those few sweaty minutes amid a crowd of drunken clubgoers, challenge lurked in Grace’s green eyes.

If the way she moved on the dance floor is any indication of what she’s like in bed, we’re both in for a treat. I gave her a good preview of the way I could move, and I’m ready to show her more.

I start kissing Grace outside my apartment and briefly unseal my lips from hers to unlock the door. We stumble inside and Grace pushes my jacket off my shoulders as I shut and lock the door behind her. I take her black wrap and purse and set them aside on the foyer table. I toss my keys into a bowl and slip my jacket off, throwing it over the banister.

Her breasts lift and my eyes go to the pendant resting between them. She watches me hungrily for a few seconds as she comes to me again. Before she can blot out my brain with another of her drugging kisses, I turn her hips and point her upstairs.

Her butt sways in the black fabric and I follow, knowing she’s adding an extra wiggle for my benefit. At the landing she turns as I loosen my tie. She reaches to help, yanking the length of silk free and unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt.

I halt her hands with one of mine.

“Can I get you a drink? Water? Wine? I might have champagne.”

A crease dents the space between her eyebrows as her hands flatten on my chest. I’ve confused her. Grace thinks tonight is going to go a certain way. She believes she’s calling the shots. At the dance club, she implied that sex was next on the agenda, and she assumes her yes means I’m going to strip her naked and fuck her against the wall, my pants around my ankles and her dress hiked high on her waist.