Page 26 of Better Late Than Never

Alex said something. The guy laughed. Even at this angle, Alex’s smile fucked with my balance. So did the way he used the hand on the guy’s ass to pull them even closer together. God, was his thigh between the other man’s legs? And was that?—

Jesus. Alex’s untucked shirt had mostly hidden it, but when they moved just so, I realized the guy’s hand was in Alex’s back pocket.

Oh, fuck, I did not need to watch this.

I turned away and again tried to concentrate on what I was doing. Not whattheywere doing behind me. Not on how much I wished it was my hand in Alex’s pocket or my ass under his palm. Not on how badly I wanted to be the one hovering less than an inch away from knowing how Alex kissed.

Someone appeared beside me, and a hand slid around my waist. I missed a step, the combat-trained side of me momentarily thinking someone was getting the drop on me, but I relaxed as I realized he was moving with me. I leaned back into his heat, and he slid his arm all the way around me, flattening his hand on my stomach. Hot breath rushed past my neck, and I decided then and there I loved the way it felt when a man’s hips pressed against my ass.

I covered his hand with mine. Then I decided to get a little braver and reach back to find his hip. Oh, hell. That was sexy. So was the way he growled in my ear. I had no idea what he was saying—my Spanish definitely wasn’tthatgood—but it sounded hot and dirty.

He ground against my ass, and I realized he was aroused, too. I turned around in his arms and found myself gazing into a pair of utterly stunning eyes. It was hard to tell in the flickering disco lights, but I was pretty sure they were hazel. Maybe even green. His near-black hair was longer than mine, and he wore it well; this was definitely not a man subject to uniform regulations.

His smile was a little asymmetrical, and it made the floor beneath my feet feel a little uneven. Oh my God, he was sexy.

When he ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip… fuuuck.

I didn’t have to think at all about how I moved with him. My body fell into sync with his, and he was so close to me now, he had to have felt the way my heart was thundering. Even if he didn’t feel that, well, there were other dead giveaways that I was into this, and he grinned as he ground against my hard-on.

He said something I didn’t catch. A question, that much I understood; again it was Spanish, and from the way he was grinning, it was filthy and suggestive. Maybe even a little cocky. I realized it could’ve been anything from “are you having a good time?” to “your place or mine?”

And that…

That sent a panicked shiver down my spine, cracking through the heat and the arousal and the alcohol.

I leaned in slightly to the side so he knew I was trying to speak, not kiss him, and he tilted his head to offer his ear.

“Do you speak English?”

He drew back again and shook his head. “¿Hablas español?”

I shook my head.

He frowned, then shrugged as his grin came back to life. Whatever he said next was fast and flirty, and he punctuated it by sliding his hands up my waist and pulling me in closer. It was probably something to the effect of,“We don’t need to talk—just dance.”

And maybe do more than dance.

Yeah, we could dance. We could even make out a bit, maybe.

But how did we take things further? Because I was still nervous about getting intimate with a man. With anyone, honestly, since I’d only ever been with one person in my entire life.

How were we supposed to communicate? How was I supposed to ask if he’d been tested for STIs or assure him that my own tests were clear? How was I supposed to insist that, no, really—condoms were non-negotiable? Or that I’d never done this before and needed him to take things slow?

Okay, this wasn’t a good idea.

Dancing? Sure. Venturing out into the club scene? Definitely.

Hooking up with this guy or anyone else here who didn’t speak English? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to fly.

Just dancing, then. I could live with that.

My partner apparently could, too. Either that, or he sensed me subtly backing off, as if I’d unconsciously telegraphed that this wasn’t going anywhere beyond the dancefloor. We danced for another song and a half or so, and then he gave me a little grin and a nod before drifting back into the crowd. No hard feelings.

Not long after him, another man found me. He was probably in his early thirties, same as the other, and he also didn’t speak English. Fine. I wasn’t here to talk.

And apparently Alex was right that I wouldn’t have to dance alone.

As this new guy pressed his back against me and his ass against my hips, I glanced around, sure I was going to find Alex withI told you soacross his smug face.

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