Page 24 of The Sweetest Surrender

Chapter Eight

Once Selena and Denzel made it to the dance floor, Denzel slipped his arms around Selena’s waist, and she in turn slid her arms around his neck as they moved in a soft wine.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Denzel said. There was alcohol on his breath. It was strong as if he’d been drinking most of the night.

“Selena.”

“Like the Latin songstress,” he responded.

Selena laughed. “I think she was Mexican-American and Cherokee, but yes, that’s the one.”

“It fits you, nicely.”

Selena blushed. “Thank you. I bet you tell all the girls that.”

“Not when it’s something like Bonquisha.”

Selena threw her head back and laughed, and a chuckle cruised from Denzel.

“So, Selena, your friend back there seems to think you have a boyfriend.”

“Mmhmm,” she said, settling her laughter.

“But you don’t?”

Selena hesitated. “I’m dating someone, but that’s about it.”

Denzel swept an eye over Selena. “And he hasn’t locked you down yet?” Denzel asserted. “It’s about to be his loss.”

Selena smirked. “Why? Because you’re going to?”

Denzel licked his lips. “You sound as if that’s a foreign thing. I mean, me taking you off the market.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a gold digger.”

Denzel cracked another smile. “True, but somehow I don’t think that’s your thing.”

“Hmm.” Selena almost rolled her eyes. This guy was so smooth with his game she almost believed him.

“How long have you been single, Selena?”

“Apparently, too long,” a thick ominous voice behind them snarled.

Selena whipped around, and her whole body encompassed a surge of heat as her eyes met Jordan’s dark piercing gaze. It ripped right through her clothes, driving down to her center as his dynamic sparkling brown orbs danced over her shapely curves in a way that told Selena she would never belong to another. His masculine spicy scent drifted over to her, consuming her as she stood frozen.

Seeing Jordan reminded Selena of just how insanely beautiful this man was. His six-foot-three frame, with muscles ripping through his commanding physique, caused more chills to colonize over Selena’s skin than when pressurized heat met kernel popcorn. His transition from the suit and tie combination Jordan usually wore to this laid-back, snugly fit gray sweater, dark denim jeans, and black timberland boots gave him a roguish New York state of mind kind of look. Just a glimpse of him sent Selena’s nerves into a frenzy, and she needed a reminder to blink, breathe, and respond before she collapsed where she stood.

Selena was thoroughly transfixed, drinking up his strapping build like it would behoove her not to. The excellent way his toned thighs whispered against his denim and the perfectly aligned collar of his boot welcomed the outer edges of his jeans was so devilishly sexy Selena’s throat dried. Dayum!

Jordan’s gaze lingered around her feet, then trailed back from her sharp high heels, fishnet stockings, and hovered right around her groin. He eye-fucked her; unmistakably branding Selena with an unflinching, virile trademark.

“Hey, gorgeous,” his dark voice grooved. He stepped in and slipped a hand around her waist, pulling Selena away from Denzel into the solid expanse of his chest.

Up close and personal, Selena tried to swallow, but the dryness of her throat was scratching. Forgetting that she was dancing with Denzel, Selena smiled and blinked softly while trying to comprehend where he’d come from.

“Hey…” Selena said, attempting to find some semblance of words.

“You don’t mind if I interrupt your date, do you?”

---