Page 26 of Passed Ball

Just then, the roughness of a warm palm brushes over my shoulder.

"Thank you," I squeak out, praying he didn't overhear. Considering we were on shaky ground until a few hours ago, that's definitely more information than I want him to know. Besides, I'm sure a man like him can't possibly relate to my mediocre sex life.

"Dance with me, wife," Dom says, pulling Indie from her seat.

"I don't know . . . dancing with you only leads to trouble." Her voice is playful, but she looks up at her husband with so much admiration. It's an intimate moment between the two, but when she doesn't immediately stand, he hauls her out of the chair and into his arms.

Two by two, the table empties until Xavier and I are alone.

"You know what's great for forging new friendships?" Xavier asks, leaning over the back of my chair so his lips are close to my ear. He's everywhere I look--one arm braced on the table in front of me, the other brushing my shoulder. God, he's big when he surrounds me like this.

"Well, if you're anything like my best friend Harlowe, it's a spit handshake."

His chuckle rumbles through me, warming my body with

each vibration. Xavier's got an incredible laugh--deep and smoky, a little mysterious, and I like earning that sound from him.

"Maybe we save the spit for when we know each other better . . . but I'd really like to share a dance with you."

Heat crawls up my cheeks. My conversation with the girls has hot, dirty sex on the brain, and his voice so close to my ear isn't helping. It's all too much, making my already-heated blood boil.

"Dancing could be nice," I finally say, praying the walk to the floor is enough of a reprieve to get myself under control.

Xavier pulls my chair out and I stand, following him as we weave through the crowd. I remind myself that he's just trying to make up for the first impression he made and give us a fresh start. It helps me regain some composure, and by the time we reach an open spot on the floor, I'm a little steadier.

At least, until Alexander Nate's "save this dance for me" starts up. The soulful beat and Xavier's arm sliding around my back so his palm lands on my hip make for a potent combination.

There's an intimacy in his hold as he easily glides us around the floor. I'm surprised at his grace when he spins me around only to pull me close, like the lyrics describe. His sure movements exude confidence and I choose to focus on the fact that I'm oddly proud of him for finding his footing after the camp, and not the way dancing with him has my whole body tingling.

As if he can sense I need a second, Xavier pulls his gaze from me. After a long moment, his eyes settle back on mine. "I know I already told you this, but it bears repeating. You're beautiful."

Not "you look beautiful," or "your dress is pretty." This gorgeous man thinksI'mbeautiful, and he's not shy about telling me.

His words settle over me like a warm blanket and a flutter stirs low in my stomach, a combination of nervousness and something else. I open my mouth, ready to thank him, but he's not done.

"Seriously, you took my breath away when I saw you standing at my door." He fingers the strap at my shoulder, making that ripple in my belly turn into a full-blown earthquake.

His sapphire eyes are filled with intense earnestness as he focuses on me, like he's watching to make sure I really hear him.

No one's ever looked at me with such intensity. All I can do is whisper a "Thank you"before I hide my face in his lapel to escape for a moment.

For the second time tonight, his rich scent fills my senses, and it does nothing to help my scattered thoughts. Instead, it's like a drug, melting my resolve further with every breath I take. My head spins, and my pulse quickens, and for a second, all I can think about is how badly I want to be closer to him, swallowed up in that warmth and intoxicating smell.

The dance ends too soon, but the effect lingers. We stand there, as the music fades, the MC's voice a distant hum I can't focus on. Xavier stares down at me, lifting a hand to brush a strand of hair from my cheek. The moment seems suspended in time, and I wish it could last all night.

"Stunning," he whispers, looping the strand behind my ear. Goosebumps break out on my neck and chest as his fingers brush down the length of my neck. "Thank you for the dance."

I clear my throat, blinking up at him as I try to make sense of how a simple touch affects me so deeply. "Of course. How could I say no to someone who's so clearly a nine?" I joke, trying to ease the nerves prickling through me.

"One more to go." His velvet laugh washes over me, and it's almost too much on top of our proximity, especially after that dance.

The floor around us has emptied, so I step back, breaking our connection in an attempt to preserve what's left of my sanity. "I could use some water before my speech."

He doesn't call me on my cop-out.

Instead of ordering a drink like I expect him to, he grabs water for himself as well. It didn't go unnoticed that he came back empty-handed when he grabbed my champagne earlier, too. Curiosity wins out as I say, "Just because I'm having water doesn't mean you can't have something else."

His measured exhale lands softly between us as the server hands him my water, and he slides it to me. "I've never been much of a drinker, but since Holland was born, it's lost its appeal . . ." A pause stretches out before he continues. "My dad was an alcoholic, and I never want my daughter to see me like that--or not be able to care for her because I've had a drink."

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