Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(11)

Her fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck. “You’re awfully concerned about my business for someone who just met me.”

“Perhaps you inspire concern.”

Another unhurried grind of her hips against his, one that made Austin’s eyes slide closed. “If you knew me, you’d know I’d take that as an insult,” she breathed.

Good God. Men weren’t built to be tortured like this. Or they were, rather. His cock had wasted no time growing long and stiff, giving Polly a place to rub, rub, rub with each sensual movement of her hips. His conscience was being swallowed up by the surrounding darkness, the couples around him moving in a similar fashion. A way he and Polly should not be moving, but he was having a difficult time getting his body to listen. He’d been dreaming of f*cking her for six goddamn months, had watched her ass twitch past, heard that little breathy inhale after she sipped her tea. Witnessed the brilliance of her mind and ached to go head-to-head with her, knowing it would end with them both coming.

You might be a cheat, but you’re better than this. Austin’s teeth sank into his upper lip until he felt pain, but it did nothing to distract from the feel of Polly. Her tits were a revelation, swelling above the leather of her top, begging for his palms, his lips. He knew how to suction his mouth and work his tongue at the same time, knew it would dampen her panties. Christ. He really shouldn’t have thought about what she was wearing beneath her skirt. White silk. He wanted her in white silk…with a string of pearls decorating the center of her backside.

Enough.

Garnering his will, Austin moved to separate their bodies, but Polly chose that moment to slip her hand up the inside of his T-shirt, her nails scoring his abdomen, his pecs. “I shouldn’t be dancing with you. I’m supposed to be…” Her head turned toward the bar. “I have to go.”

Austin swallowed a groan, grateful for the flare of panic that interrupted the surge of blistering heat. God, he wanted those nails on his shoulders leaving blood in their wake, but that arousing imagery was interrupted by her desire to flee. Go after Charles—something he couldn’t allow. Tangling with Charles in her state was unwise in every way imaginable. And he couldn’t get that close to his ex-partner or he risked being recognized, disguise or no disguise. The guy was a master, and they’d spent too much time in each other’s company.

Focus, you plank.

“You would take yourself away from me so soon?” He eased Polly’s hands from beneath his shirt and stepped back, gritting his teeth at the loss. “Stay with me, zolotse. We can just talk.”

“I…” She shook her head, as if trying to clear it, but couldn’t. “I should go, but…”

He hated himself just then. Would hate anyone who stifled her impressive mind for a single second. The fact that it was he who had done it was insufferable. No choice. You had no choice. When her gaze strayed to the bar again, her attention beginning to pull away, denial gripped Austin. He needed to keep her occupied until the sedative kicked in and he could remove her from the situation.

Against his better judgment, Austin brought his mouth within an inch of Polly’s and backed her off the dance floor, placing them in an even darker corner. There was no denying the satisfaction that surged when her lips parted and he felt her quick little puffs of breath against his mouth. Their bodies were plastered so closely together, he swore he could feel her heart pounding double time. Or maybe it was his. He couldn’t tell, nor did he have the wherewithal to guess, because he and Polly were alone for all intents and purposes. Alone and pressed together, chest to knee, mouths poised in that moment just before a kiss. That taut section below her belly button started to writhe with the music again, shifting his cock right to left, right to left. And f*ck, Austin had never come close to sainthood, but the fact that he hadn’t nailed her to the wall already had to qualify him.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” she breathed into his mouth.

“I can’t—” Accent. Accent. “You make concentration difficult.”

Polly studied him from beneath her eyelashes. “Funny. I was going to say the same thing about you.” She dipped down and dragged their hips together with a sweet, feminine moan. “It’s probably because I haven’t been with anyone in so long.”

Fucking hell. This was it. This was where he died. “Is that so?”

“I don’t know why I told you that. I’m not thinking straight.”

Shame harpooned him, enough that he pulled his mouth away from the perfection of her. Over the years, he’d become quite adept at numbing the feeling of shame, but he couldn’t seem to accomplish it around Polly. Austin swallowed heavily and let out a rush of unrehearsed words beside her ear. “Let me think for both of us.”

After a moment wherein he held his breath, she nodded, and the foreign good intentions she’d inspired in him solidified. He’d come here to save her from herself, and now he’d have to pull double duty. Keep her safe and resist her body when she wasn’t in full possession of her faculties. Just a little longer. Just until you can get her out of here.

Austin braced both hands on the wall above her head. “You touch. I won’t touch back. Even if it’s all I’m thinking about.”

She appeared to absorb their position for a second, those luscious tits lifting and falling between them, driving him f*cking mad. Then she took him off guard by wrapping a leg around his waist. Thank God the loud music disguised his vile curse, because it wasn’t in character. It was all Austin now, discerning the shape of her * through his jeans. Sweating under his shirt with the effort of staying still when his neglected sex drive shouted f*ck her.