Page 57 of Deliverance

“Is everything all right?”

I glance up at him and our gazes meet. “Yep.”Liar.Heat spreads to my cheeks as I try to think of a better explanation than the one I gave everybody earlier, but the intensity of his sky blue stare renders me speechless.

What the fuck is going on with me?

Zander leans in. “Do you want to get out of here?”

My knees buckle. I’m not sure how to interpret his question. “Um—” Music cuts off the rest of my mumbling.

“I mean if you’re not having fun here, we can go somewhere else or I can take you home,” he yells over the female vocals rattling the room, his warm breath stroking my skin.

I continue to study the crowd moving along with the beat, unsure of what to do. The food settled me, but the buzz is still there, and it’s affecting my reasoning.

“Oh my God! Flask’s been spinning oldies all night!” Bebe squeals somewhere behind me. “I love me some early Lady Gaga!” She pops into my line of vision and grabs my hands. “Come on, girl!”

Instantly, we’re caged by bodies that are glistening with sweat.

Bebe cradles my head and draws me closer. “He’s a hottie! You should keep him!”

I smile stupidly and let her grind against me while my eyes search for a familiar face. Santiago, Lion, Ann, Jean-Luc. Anyone? Because Bebe can be a very obnoxious drunk. And that’s exactly what she is right now. Although I’m not one to judge.

Relief floods me when I catch the sight of Zander’s silhouette lingering nearby. He maneuvers through the knot of people with ease.

“I’m sorry for stealing her!” Bebe places both palms on his chest and I suspect she’s been wanting to touch him ever since he stepped out of his Lamborghini hours ago. “She’s all yours, cutie!”

“Did I hear your friend correctly?” Zander inquires the second Bebe is gone. “Did she just call me a cutie?” Her commentary seems to have amused him.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t ask.”

We share a laugh and he closes the distance between us, partially because we’re being pushed from all sides and partially because the dance floor looks like one big orgy and we’re the only two people still not glued to each other, which is probably about to gather us unwanted attention.

“My offer stands,” Zander whispers into my ear. His arm comes around my waist, the other settling on my hip. “We can leave if you want.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t move my tongue, because tiny shivers roll down my spine and into my legs, causing my knees to tremble. All my senses are hyper alert, all my thoughts are in disarray.

Suddenly, the world I’ve built is turned upside down. My walls crumbled. Crushed to pieces.

It’s been a very long time since I felt the way I’m feeling in Zander’s arms right now.

Wanted.

He’s careful in how he handles himself and how much of the physical contact he allows between us. His chin is grazing my shoulder, but it’s weightless. His grip is tight but tender. His breaths are deep but steady. The fact that he’s holding back ignites something inside me. I don’t know what. I just know it exceeds all my expectations of how this—whatever is happening between us tonight—should be. Or where it’s going. And it’s beyond my control.

Closing my eyes, I let myself relax against his tall, powerful body.

I let him shield me from the pandemonium.

Wordless, we sway to the beat, our hips brushing, our chests rising and falling in unison. Around us, other couples—drenched and frenzied—are dancing the night away. The entire room is ablaze. The air is hot and heavy. The music is wild and possessing. It thrums through me shockwave after shockwave, filling my blood with sparks and fire.

I don’t quite understand when exactly I lose track of time, but at some point, my surroundings fall away. All that's left is the warmth of our bodies and the hard friction of our thighs as they press together in an attempt to keep up with the demanding rhythm of the song.

And when it ends, I realize my hands are locked behind Zander’s neck and I don’t remember the exact moment I placed them there. My chin is tucked into the dip above his bicep, my knees enjoying the rugged feel of the denim he’s wearing, dare I say better than most men I’ve met.

“You lied,” Zander whispers, his voice low and barely detectable among the DJ’s speech and the cheers rising from the drunk, happy crowd.

Horror squeezes my gut.

He guessed.

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