Page 57 of The Unplanned Wedding

"What. The. Fuck?"

When the man she’s dancing with places a hand on the skin exposed by that non-existent backline, anger thrums through my veins. I move toward her, as if drawn by an invisible force, when Tyler touches my arm.

"What?" I growl.

Without replying, he snatches the glass from my hand. "You’re engaged."

"Almost engaged."

"Isn’t that semantics?" He frowns. "An upcoming marriage to a Whittington daughter is nothing to sneeze at. From all accounts, you’re not just engaged, but almost married."

I scowl. "So?’

"So"—Tyler’s mouth twists—"instead of being with youralmostfiancée"—he uses air quotes—"you’re about to march over to your assistant on the dance floor with a possessive look on your face that seems to indicate you have a claim on her?"

"I do have a claim on her," I say through gritted teeth. "She’s my employee, and she’s getting pawed by a man whose intentions she’s misunderstood. It’s my responsibility to ensure she stays safe."

"Responsibility, huh?" He smirks.

"Exactly."

His grin widens. Unsaid, is the implication that I feel more toward her than I should toward my assistant. Even though I resolved to put distance between us, which is the reason I decided to announce my alliance to the Whittington woman, I’m still attracted to her. I committed myself to a future that leads in a direction away from her. I’m aware thatdoinganything to jeopardize the relationship with the Whittingtons will piss off Arthur. But none of it is enough to lessen this pull I feel for my assistant.

"Fuck." I drag my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t head in her direction. I should let her dance with that stranger and allow him to put his hand on her hip and draw her close. When she begins to sway against him, I dig my fingers in my hair and tug. And when she laughs up at him, the pain that stabs into my chest feels like someone pushed a gun in between my ribs and fired.

I take another step toward her when Tyler touches my shoulder. "You sure about this?"

I shake off his hand. "No, but I’m going to do it anyway." I shoulder my way past the people standing between me and her.

When I reach them, I grip the shoulder of the man who’s dancing with her. He turns to look at me. I bare my teeth at him, and he pales. His steps slow.

"Get gone, she’s mine." I shove him out of the way—then place my hands on her hips.

21

June

The warmth of those hands on my hips sends a shiver through me. I didn’t expect his palms to be this big, his hold this confident. In fact, I started dancing with him precisely because I knew he wouldn’t pose a threat to me. And not only because my mind was occupied with the man I shouldn’t be spending any time thinking about; it’s because I was confident no one else would be as handsome as him, no one else would be as well built as him. And whilehe’snever held me before, ifhedid, it’d feel like this. How weird that I’d think that when it’s the hands of a stranger on me.

A stranger who pulls me in, so my back is molded to his firm, broad chest. A chest I didn’t think would be as sculpted as this feels. I sway with the music, and he sways with me. Around us, the crowd presses in. A man stumbles in my direction, but the guy behind me throws up his hand to hold him at bay. I notice that his biceps are thick enough to strain the sleeves of his jacket.Was the stranger who’s dancing with me wearing a jacket?But then his hold on my hips tightens, and all thoughts vanish.

A frisson of heat arrows to the space between my legs. And when heslides one hand around to flatten it over my stomach, my entire body shudders.Oh my god, oh my god.It’s unnatural I'm having such a reaction to this man. It’s also unreal that I'm allowing him to take such liberties with my body. That I feel so ready. That he feels so familiar.

Apparently, my boss is not the only one who can wring such sensations from my body?

Confusion clouds my mind.Is it possible there’s someone else out there who can make me feel this unsettled? This hot, this antsy, so my skin feels too tight for my body.

The beats of the techno music bump up a few notches. The bass sinks into my blood, the drumbeats pumping up the adrenaline in my body. I find myself responding, the thoughts in my mind overridden by the thumping of the bass. My muscles relax. I allow the stranger to maneuver my body in sync with the pulsating vibrations.

Oh wow, I didn’t realize how much I missed the feeling of freedom that dancing brings me.And when you have a partner who moves with you, who molds his body to yours like he anticipates what you’re going to do next… When he slides his hands to the sides of your body, grasps your hips, and fits you exactly over the considerable bulge at his crotch, it’s as if you’re fucking right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone. And it’s thrilling and you feel like an exhibitionist. You feel so, so good.

I throw my head back, so I’ve pushed it into his chest, then raise my arms above my head. I sway my hips in time to the music, spread my legs and when the music dips, I drop down with it. It’s sudden enough that his grasp moves up to hold my biceps, and when I move in tandem with the techno bass to spring up, he slides his thick fingers up my arms to twine them with mine.

He applies gentle pressure, and I allow him to lead me. With a flick of his wrist, he thrusts me forward, as much as the crowded dance floor will allow. Then he reels me back. And again. Without allowing me to turn my head, he glides his large palms down my arms, over the sides of my chest. His fingertips brush up against the edges of my breasts, and I shiver. My nipples tighten into pinpoints of hurt. My pussy clenches. I part my lips in a silent groan.

Whoa, how can he know my body so well? How can he be this confident in the way he maneuvers my body?

He floats his palms down to, once more, squeeze my hips. Then, with a firm grasp, he propels me forward, and when he turns me and brings me back, my gaze connects with the strip of skin on his chest revealed by the open collar of his shirt.

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