Page 48 of The Wedding Deal
He hadn’t realized he’d hooked it over her hip, but now tantalizing heat was replacing the blood in his body, compelling him to tighten his grip. He tipped back his own drink and tugged her closer so her body was flush with his. “I’m still a bit fuzzy on the rules.”
“Sounds like I’d better give you a lesson.”
Usually he’d groan and prepare for a lecture, but she hadn’t moved away, and her voice had a sultry edge, as did the curve of her lips.
“This is the line…” She put her hand over his and moved it higher on her side. Then she moved it down, sliding it along her hip and leaving it on the curve of her ass. “This would be breaking it.” She moved it up again. “Fine.” Back down to her ass, and his fingers twitched of their own accord. Shetsked. “Definitely breaking it.”
Desire inundated his system and his thoughts grew fuzzy—and not from the whiskey.
“Also, this…” She pressed the front of her body against his. “Too close, lots of improper touching—it’d definitely make other coworkers uncomfortable, too.”
His throat went dry, and he rasped out, “Good thing none of our coworkers are here.”
“Yeah. Guess that’s the positive spin to you firing them all.” Her smile turned haughty, and no amount of thinking of plays or drills could keep him from hardening against her stomach.
The pulse beating at the base of her throat fluttered, and he reached his other hand up and cupped her neck, his thumb resting against that rush of blood.
“See, I’m used to football rules. Whenever I’d put my finger on those laces…” He moved his hand to her lower back, spreading his fingers and holding her flush against him. “Protect the ball at all costs. Don’t get sacked. Because when you get sacked, a lot of times things get dirty.”
“Ooh,” she said, and he gave her a look.
“Head out of the gutter, James. I mean that players might take advantage of the fact that refs can’t see very well. They might rough the passer a bit.” He gently jostled her. Then he lowered his mouth to her ear. “There’s even been some biting.”
He sank his teeth into the shell of her ear, and she arched against him, as if she couldn’t help herself. Which made it that much harder to control himself.
He didn’t even care if they were creating a spectacle. All he cared about was that she wasn’t pulling away.
“With the helmets,” she breathed, “ear biting seems highly unlikely.”
His lips brushed her temple as he said, “Did you want me to bite somewhere else?”
Her fingers dug into his biceps, and her breasts bumped against his chest as she inhaled and exhaled. “Lance,” she whispered, and the want flooding his insides turned to need. He needed this woman.
But a deal was a deal. Or a decree or whatever the hell it was.Shehad to make the move. He stayed perfectly still, silently urging her to rise onto her toes and kiss him. “Mm-hmm,” he finally said.
She peered up at him, suddenly shy. “I…” She glanced around. “There are all these other women here, undoubtedly wanting a shot at dancing with you. There’s a chance someone might snap a few pics to send out to the gossip rags, and it’d be free PR, the NFL’s newest eligible bachelor out on the town for a night.”
Talk about whiplash. He was thinking of kissing her breathless and whisking her out of the club, and she was worried about PR?
“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t care about PR?”
“You can’t just not care about it,” she said.
“Fine. If I leave your side, other guys will hit on you, and that’ll piss me off and then I’ll get into a fight, which would bebadPR.” Since he wanted a reason to keep touching her, keep this night going where he wanted it to, he took a few breaths to calm himself down the best he could and tugged her toward the floor. “This bachelor only wants to dance with you. And, Charlotte, that’s coming from a guy who would usually run the other way at the mention of the worddance.”
Chapter Eighteen
This was the most pathetic attempt at putting up a fightever. No, she didn’t fight, didn’t drag her feet, simply let Lance tug her into the crowd of swaying bodies on the dance floor.
As if Fate—or the Master Temptress—was in charge, the music changed to a slow song. Lance drew her close and wound his arms around her waist. She tipped onto her toes and linked her fingers behind his neck.
Every inch of her body was plastered against him, and since she had to reach—even in her heels—it meant she was also leaning heavily on him.
“I like this dress you’re wearing,” Lance said, his gaze dipping to take her in. Passion flared in the blue depths, and his pupils nearly swallowed them up. That same passion transferred to her, rolling through her body in a molten wave. “And those fucking tights. The mix of siren and sweet shoes with bows on them made me crazy the instant I saw them.”
She swallowed and worked to keep her voice even. “Usually I wear more proper ones, but I decided the club and this purple bandage dress called for fishnets, so I picked some up on my way back from the nail salon.”
“Proper,” he said with apft. “Those other tights with the black line are just as sexy. Every time I see them my fingers twitch with the need to trace that line up the back of your calves, thighs…all the way up your skirt.”
