Page 25 of Betrayed

“And you said you couldn’t dance.”

“That was all you.”

“Perhaps I helped.”

He dipped her then, bending her over his arm briefly before popping her upright again. Nose to nose, he held her close, his eyes surveying her flushed face and her hair, much of it loose from her clip and falling around her shoulders. From there, they trailed down her throat, pausing briefly, making her wonder if he could see the rapid beat of her pulse. But she didn’t ask, and he didn’t say, as he continued his downward path to the unmistakable rise and fall of her chest, heavy with anticipation, and the press of his hard body against her softness. Much of it had to do with the control he exerted, easily taking ownership of more than the dance.

“Très bien ma belle,but when I dip you again, I want you to trust me not to let you fall. Relax in my arms and let your head arch back.”

Rocking their hips for a moment, he maneuvered them into several graceful turns until he located a less crowded spot on the floor. This time, he released the hand he held, guiding it up to his shoulder before dipping her once again. As he did, his hand slid down her side and curled around her thigh, cocking her leg up high alongside his hip. Putting them in intimate alignment, she felt the long, hard ridge of his arousal press into the soft cradle of her thighs. He held the pose longer than the first time, running his lips up the line of her throat as her head fell back, more hair tumbling free and brushing the floor.

“Parfait!You are a natural.”

Not even close; it was Arturo that was perfect.

For several more songs, she was swept up in the pleasure of dancing with such a skilled partner. Slow or fast, he made it seem she knew what she was doing. At one point, when the music changed to Rhianna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” he spun her around, and with her back to his front began grinding against her, keeping pace with the twenty-somethings on the dance floor even as the older couples bowed out.

Smiling and enjoying herself as she hadn’t in years, she let herself go, letting his hands guide her hips as his erection rubbed suggestively against her soft behind. His arm slid around in front, and with his hand splayed over her belly, moved upward, between her breasts until it wrapped around her throat. It seemed automatic to lift her arm and wrap it around the back of his neck as he turned her face up to his. With fingertips grazing her chin and his thumb riding her jaw, his mouth opened over hers, his tongue exploring the recesses, sending waves of arousal rippling through her.

At the end of the too-short song, he didn’t release her, holding her clasped close, his touch firm and persuasive, inviting more.

“Having fun?” he asked, only slightly breathless.

“Yes, sir.”

“The choice is yours, then, a drink and more dancing, or we can go play. If you’re ready.”

Her brain cried to stay, drink, dance where it’s safe, but she found her lips moving of their own accord. “Play, sir. I’m more than ready.”

His gaze met hers, the smoldering flame she saw there making her pulse leap with excitement.

“Moi aussi, ma colombe.Let’s go.”

Chapter 9

THE BUTTERFLIES INher stomach took flight as she looked around the room, asking herself for the hundredth time what she was doing here. Coming alone to a sex club was ballsy for her; going off to a private room for bondage games with a man she hardly knew was crazy. The fact that he was a gorgeous, charming, and unerringly dominant shouldn’t factor. But when a flash of his brilliant-white smile against his swarthy skin, or a glance from his penetrating green eyes, or an order given in his low, smooth-as-silk baritone made her heart skip a beat and ovaries actually ache, how could it not?

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