Page 29 of Misadventures With My Fake Fiancé

“Vi, what I said earlier?—”

I put a finger over his lips, which were warm and soft and, crap...kissable. “Don't. I understand. It was just one night. What's there to remember?”

Mike clenched his jaw so tight if the music wasn't so loud, I was sure I'd hear teeth crack. I dropped my hand and took a small step back, but he reached out and took a gentle hold of my upper arm. Amazing, he could be so strong, so intense and possessive, yet so careful.

“It wasn't like that and you know it. That night meant more to me than any night like that since.”

I winced. His words offered no redeeming value to me. “TMI. I really am not interested in all of yourotherconquests.” I took a long pull on my straw, the pink drink disappearing quickly.

“There were no conquests.” Mike took swig from his beer, placed it on the bar.

“Mary Jane Cooper. Amelia Lane. Stephanie Clink. Renee Kolckowski.”

Mike closed his eyes and shook his head. “Jesus. Where did you hear about them?”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You really want to know?”

Mike gave my arm a little squeeze, and then released me. “Don't believe everything you hear.”

“I also heard you like a little kink.”

Mike just stared at me, his blue eyes giving nothing away. “The Bozeman grapevine at its finest. Tell you what, babe, if you want to know what I like in the bedroom, why don't you find out for yourself? My game has definitely improved since graduation.”

I lifted my chin. “So has mine.”

Mike clenched his jaw once again. Something flared in his eyes. Heat? Anger?

From the dance floor, Jean-Luc or Marc gave me a little wave and a smile.

“I'm going to dance with the twins.”

As I turned to walk away, Mike grabbed my arm again, glared. “If you want a man's hands on you, just say so.”

“Okay. I want to dance. Do you?”

“Hell, no. My foot's killing me from that gnome landing on it.”

“Whatever.”

Mike stood at the bar and looked grim all the while I danced with the twins. One of the men touched me at all times; my waist, shoulder, hand. They weren't being aggressive or overtly sexual, but the constant touch was...arousing. They made me feel feminine and alluring. Like they couldn't keep their hands off me. Or maybe it was the alcohol that made me think that. When I darted glances at Mike, however, it seemed he picked up on the same vibe. He didn't look remotely happy. In fact, Ihad no doubt he might be considering multiple ways to break fingers.

After a quick trip to the ladies’ room, I met Mike in the hallway beside the bar. “Those guys are a little too into you.”

I looked around Mike's broad shoulder to see the twins dancing with a blonde in a very short jean skirt, lots of leg and cowboy boots. They might have been into me ten minutes ago, but they were clearly fickle.

“They seem to move on fast, too. Must be a family thing.” I held up my hand. “Oh wait, maybe it's just me.” The last I said with bitterness. Maybe itwasme. I hadn't dated in eons; my sex life was non-existent. I was fake engaged. I couldn't seem to get it right. Maybe the reason Mike walked away graduation night wasn't because of some excuse of his.Maybe it was me.

“Let's dance,” Mike said, his voice dark and deep. Mike pulled me possessively toward the dance floor, not giving me a choice in the matter. I didn't want to dance with him because I didn't like his bossy attitude.

“I thought your foot hurt.”

He spun me around and I grabbed his shoulders to keep my balance. He placed his large hands low, very low, on my back. My belly pressed firmly into a very specific hard place. Was it hot in here?

“I'm a podiatrist. I cured myself.”

We started moving to the music and a whole lot more of him touched me besides his hands. His muscled thigh wedged between mine and since I came only up to his shoulder, I practically rode itDirty Dancingstyle. My girl parts brushed and bumped against him in ways that sent zings through me. Holy hell. No wonder everyone had been in love with Patrick Swayze. If Mike could melt my butter—as Goldie would say—on the dance floor, I wondered what moves he had in the bedroom. No! I couldn't go there. I couldn't have thoughts like that. I wasmad at him and wanted to strangle him, not run my hands all over his body.

For a guy so big, he was an incredibly good dancer. My brain was fighting a losing battle. He moved us both to the deep throbbing of the music, his palms holding me against him, his fingers resting on the upper swell of my ass. I wasn't going anywhere. Knowing that, I gave over and my brain let go. For the moment, I was his and he was making it very well known to anyone watching.

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