Page 7 of Lock 'em Down

And by the time Hudson picks up the bill, I’ve got my hand resting on Cami’s thigh underneath the table, her shoulder is leaning into my side, and I’ve never felt more excited about the stretch of hours before us.

For me, tonight is just beginning, and I want all the time I can get with this mysterious woman with the infectious smile.

Three

Cami

It’s ethereal. That moment at a club, in a crowd, where the bodies of everyone pressing around you, the pulse of the beat, hell, even the particles of air, seem to pause. They slow from a frenetic discord to a gentle heartbeat. Steady.

Leif and I share that moment.

His fingers are twisted in the material of my shirt and he’s fisting it in his right hand, pulling my body closer as we dance, grind, together. I’ve got one hand gripping his hip, the other resting on the swell of his shoulder. Sweat drips down my spine from hours of dancing. I tossed my hair up in a bun hours ago. My body feels electric, like one touch from him in the right spot, and I’ll short-circuit.

I’m breathless and drunk on his presence. Well, that and the shots I consumed since dinner. But it feels good. God, it feels right.

And then, we have the moment.

I don’t think I’ve ever had the moment before. Not even with Levi. No, everything with Levi was a blur of high highs and low lows. In hindsight, Mom was onto something when she accused me of making a series of poor judgment calls. Decisions I have to live with.

When Leif’s eyes meet mine, the guilt and shame I harbor evaporates. I’m not naïve Cami. I’m me again—what you see is what you get.

Leif’s eyes widen slightly, appearing just as startled as I feel, before the outer rings of that mesmerizing blue darken from the color of the Caribbean to the shade of the Mediterranean.

My fingernails dig into his shoulder and my back arches on its own accord. He draws me closer—how is that even possible?

The sound of the music fades. The person who bumps into me—Izzy or Tamara—from behind doesn’t fully register.

The back of Leif’s hand drags up the side of my body. Slowly. Sensually. My eyes close as his knuckles glide over my cheek. He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear, his thumb pressing against my earlobe.

And when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me intently. His eyebrows are pulled together, a tiny line forming between them. His eyes study me carefully, like a treasure, like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. His lips part and he releases a long exhale as his fingers skate across my face and his thumb lands in the center of my chin. He shakes his head slightly, as if in awe, as if this is the most meaningful exchange he’s ever experienced.

The look in his eyes, the honest emotion stamped in his expression, crashes over me like a tidal wave. My hand presses to his, our fingers linking together, as he cradles my face.

He’s not looking at me like I let him down. A hot mess.

He’s not shaking his head like I’m a silly girl who read the situation wrong.

Or like this is a fun one-night-whatever that won’t matter tomorrow.

His electric blue eyes bore into mine like they’re seeing straight to my soul. And they’re not scared. Or frustrated.

They’re hopeful, reflecting a prism of possibilities.

They’re honest, pouring out as much of his emotions as they take in of mine.

They’re enchanted. I enchant him.

He blinks once and then, in that slow motion way of the best romance movies I’ve ever watched, his mouth arcs over mine. I lift my chin, waiting and wanting for the gift he’s about to bestow.

And he misses his mark. Someone slams into Leif from behind and he stumbles forward, stepping on my toe and smacking his mouth against my ear.

He drags me with him, one strong arm banding across my lower back.

His eyes are wide—startled—as his other hand grips my shoulder. “Cami!” His eyes fly over my face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Just my toes,” I admit, feeling the stomp of his foot reverberate through my body.

“Shit!” He moves to drop to his knees, but I clasp his shoulders and keep him upright.

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