Page 53 of Tight Spot

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Dawson slipped my clutch from my hand, tossed it to the counter, and then curled his hand around my bicep, steadying me while I flicked off the ankle strap of my heels and slid out of them.

“Oh my god,” I groaned. “A man will never know how good it feels to take off high-heeled shoes.”

Dawson chuckled in my ear and made sure I was steady on my feet before he let go. “Are you worn out or would you like a drink?”

My limbs were tired from all the dancing. My throat sore from all the talking. Once we got past the snafu at dinner, the rest of the night had flown by. And Dawson was right. Not that I had a whole lot of experience with galas and fundraisers for the richest of the rich, but Cole Buchanan put on an incredibly entertaining event. Not only did Bethany Carlson sing during dinner, she came back out during the dancing portion and played a few of her most popular favorites. I laughed more with Eden and Maggie. I met more wives. I even met Cole’s parents, whose mom was named Kate but she quickly insisted I called her Mama B like everyone else and his dad who introduced himself as “Dave. Just Dave, darlin’.”

Dawson danced with me, his hand searing into my lower back when he pressed me tight to him, and more than once I’d felt a thickness behind the zipper we both tried to ignore. On the way home, he’d settled his hand on my thigh like it was the most natural place for his hand to belong, and I’d broken out in full-body shivers every time his thumb did a gentle brush along my inner thigh.

If he was trying to relax me, his touch spurred the opposite effect, and right then, with all the touching and laughing and talking and thumb sweeps, I absolutely did not want a glass of wine.

Except, as he walked away from me, my nerves settled in.

This was it. Or hopefully was it.

The night I’d finally see him naked. Have my hands all over those muscles…

“Hailey?”

“Yeah?”

Dawson was removing his jacket, standing at the end of the island in front of the wine fridge. “You all right?”

No. No I am absolutely not okay. My head started shaking back and forth before I commanded it to, and Dawson’s brows furrowed as he folded and set his coat onto the counter. “No? You upset about the dinner?”

“No.” I swallowed over the quickly growing lump of nerves in my throat.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m not thirsty and I don’t want wine.”

His eyes widened and then his tongue appeared, sliding along his full bottom lip. God, they were good lips. And when he’d kissed me before they’d been warm. Soft.

“Something else you’re in the mood for then?” He slunk toward me with panther-like grace, his large fingers going straight to his tie. He grabbed the knot and tugged.

I felt that tug at the joining of my thighs and swallowed. “Um.”

He ate up the remaining steps while I forced myself to remember to breathe and as he reached me, he was already flicking open the buttons of his dress shirt. “You need something from me?”

And oh god. Skin was revealed. A light smattering of hair as he tugged his shirt out of his waistband and the shirt dropped open.

“Oh god,” I whispered and reached out, slipped my hand beneath his shirt and for the first time felt him. His stomach tightened and he blew out a breath.

Muscles hidden beneath a thickness. His abs were defined, but there was weight over them too. Which told me he was large and strong and so damn sexy, but he didn’t look like he spent all his time counting protein and macros and lifting. He used his body as a machine, and it showed.

I swallowed, licked my parched lips and jumped when his thumb brushed along my chin and tipped my face so I was forced to look him in the eye.

And they were molten. Already dark eyes with large pupils. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I could finally do with you here.”

“You have?”

“More ideas than probably all of the books you have tabbed and highlighted.”

My cheeks flamed at the words. The teasing. “That’s a lot of ideas.”

“Ready to get started?”

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