Page 100 of Undone

I nodded, feeling that flutter in my stomach as we began to sway to the music, the world around us falling away for a moment.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, just… a lot on my mind.”

He tilted his head. “Care to share with the class?” He smirked, his gaze dropping to my lips.

“Everything. Seattle. Woodstone. You.”

The words felt heavy. His grip tightened at my waist, just enough for me to notice.

“Me?” His voice dropped even lower, sending a shiver through me. I finally glanced up, meeting his eyes, my pulse pounding.

“You.”

Dorian’s eyes darkened, and the air around us suddenly felt suffocating.

“Peach…”

I cut him off before he could say more. “This isn’t easy.”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand slid a little lower on my waist, fingers brushing the curve of my hip.

I could feel the electric current running between us, like something was about to snap.

He groaned, and I let my head fall to his chest. “It’stooeasy,” he breathed.

My jaw tightened, and he took a step closer until our bodies were almost flush. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Being with you, it’s so easy just to be around you, to be myself with you. You make it hard to know what I want anymore.”

“What do you want, Dorian?” I asked.

My heart lurched as his hand grazed the exposed skin of my lower back. He leaned down, his breath hot on the shell of my ear.

“I want you. Now,” he whispered before pulling back to meet my gaze.

I couldn’t hold in the small gasp that escaped me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Noah…” But it wasn’t a warning—it was a plea.

I answered it by closing the small gap between us, pressing my body against his.

His hand slid up my back, tugging me closer until there wasn’t a single space between us as we swayed to the music. My heart raced, every nerve in my body on fire.

The song ended, but Dorian didn’t let go. His hand stayed at my back, fingers pressing into the fabric of my dress. I could feel the heat between us. I didn’t pull away, nor did I want to.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I said.

“We can’t stop either,” he muttered, his lips brushing my ear, sending a shock through me just before he nipped at my skin.

“Then why do I feel like we’re playing with fire?” I asked.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. “Because it feels really damn good to play with fire sometimes.” I smirked, my heart racing with both fear and exhilaration. “Especially when the fire is you.”

Before I could respond, he took my hand, tugging me through the crowd. His steps were urgent as he pulled me toward the bathroom.

THIRTY-SIX

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