Page 39 of Knights Game

I want him so much.

He looks down at me, pulling my hair to one side and buries his head in my neck breathing me in, his hands moving to my stomach, pulling me tighter to his groin.

He is rock. Fucking. Hard.

Oh, God.

This is hot.

This is something else.

I swallow as we move to the music, no space between us. My back is firmly against his front. My body crackles and reacts in a way that it’s never done before. My pulse beats wildly in my neck, my stomach coils with anticipation as heat spreads through every limb.

He turns me to face him again, running his hand softly down my cheek to my chest, between my breasts to my stomach, and spins me round again.

He leads me to the music, spinning me, pulling me into him, his hips grinding into me, his hands running up and down my body as I do the same.

Luca Knight can dance.

He leans down, his mouth so close to mine, and I want him to close the distance. I’m desperate to taste him, in every way possible. But he doesn’t move, our breaths mingle, and it’s a game of wits.

Who will bend first.

His dark eyes sparkle.

I will not bend to him.

I turn around and gyrate against him, dry-humping him right in the middle of a packed dance floor. My dress has ridden up, and I can’t believe how brazen I’m being with him, but I don’t care.

I want this man to do filthy things to me.

I want to do filthy things to this man.

“Who is he?” he asks through gritted teeth, his voice deep and promising darkness.

“A random man.” I shamelessly rub against his hard length, alcohol and his presence making me bold, and he hisses, spinning me around quickly.

“Do you dance with all random men like that?” He grips my throat, and I lift my chin, my eyes meeting his, as he does hisfavourite thing and holds my tiny neck in his huge palm and squeezes gently.

And I love it.

“I don’t even know him,” I say. He releases me, his fingers dropping to the hem of my dress, teasing the edge. I want him to walk them higher, I want him to plunge his fingers into me on the dance floor surrounded by all these people.

Who even am I right now?

“And that’s supposed to be better, is it?”

I arch an eyebrow, and he digs his fingers into the flesh of my legs.

“I’ve been thinking about you, all day, fuck, all week. I’ve been thinking about that vibrator between your legs, and imagining it was my tongue, my cock. I want to make you scream my name and forget yours, Layla. And here you are on my dance floor. Come with me, I don’t want an audience.”

“Your club?”

He ignores my question, instead he grabs my hand, and it’s like he has some sort of magical power: the people who are packed in tightly move aside as Luca pulls me behind him.

His fingers interlace with mine and my hand feels tiny. Everything about him makes me feel tiny. His huge imposing body, his grip, his energy. Everything about this man should have me running for the hills, but here I am, hand gripped tightly in his as he leads me to wherever he wants.

I’ve just abandoned poor Katy.

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