Page 122 of Those Who Are Bound

He glanced at the group she indicated and curled his lip. “Those are my cousins.”

Elliott laughed. Setting her beer on a nearby table, she relented. “Okay, Preston, let’s dance.”

The DJ, she decided, was looking out for her because as the young man reached for her, the music switched to a Bruno Mars ballad. Or maybe he wasn’t looking out for her, as Preston attempted to smash himself against her.

“Whoa,” she said, setting herself a respectable distance back. “Like this.” She placed his hands high on her hips and rested hers on his shoulders. He was obviously disappointed but resigned to the distance. After all, the objects of his fascination were still well within sight.

Elliott fought the temptation to sigh out loud. She attempted to make nonsensical small talk, thus drawing his attention upward, but her efforts didn’t meet with great success. It was the longest three-and-a-half minutes she’d had to endure in a long time.

When the song ended, she was quick to increase the distance. “Thank you for the dance, young sir.”

He hesitated. Focus bouncing between her eyes and chest, he asked, “Can I… can I have a hug?”

Before she could respond, she felt familiar warm hands slide around her waist, pulling her back to an even warmer body, the hold possessive. And welcome. Her breath caught, her body responding instantly to his touch as her heart fluttered—literally fluttered. A pleasant throb started its rhythm between her legs.

Jonah.

Over her shoulder, his rich voice in her ear informed her young dance partner, “A dance with my woman, I can allow, but you understand I have to draw the line at a hug.”

Preston’s face turned beet red again, but he gave a solemn, albeit surly, nod.

“Good man.”

With a woeful farewell glance at the objects of his fascination, the boy turned on a heel and stalked away, shoulders at a definite slump.

“You’ve crushed him,” Elliott teased, turning her head slightly, not yet looking back at him.

Jonah chuckled. “I just saved you from feeling a teenager’s hard-on.”

She gasped, pulling to the side as she looked up at him in shock. “Jonah!”

He turned her in his arms, fitting her hips tightly to his. “You only get to feel mine.”

Leaning farther into his body, Elliott assured him, “I only want to feel yours.” They exchanged goofy grins. “Hi, Jonah.”

“Hi, Elliott.”

“I thought you couldn’t make it tonight.”

“I finished what I needed to and couldn’t stay away.” He nipped at her lips, moving his hips in a sort of slow dance even though the beat of the music didn’t match the movement; she didn’t care, she just wanted to be in his arms.

“So, so, glad about that,” she said enthusiastically against his lips, staring into green heaven.

“No! Out! Out, you two, with your crazy chemistry! No necking on the dance floor.”

Jonah’s expression morphed from molten into one that brothers reserved for annoying sisters. Elliott laughed low, watching him fight the urge to roll his eyes before they turned toward Lucy.

Standing a few feet away, dressed professionally in a light gray pin-stripe suit and skirt ensemble, Lucy was making a shooing motion toward the patio doors. “The fires are outside. Come on, no smoking in the building.”

Jonah groused, “Why am I still friends with you?”

“You love me,” Lucy reminded him, not at all affected.

Elliott chuckled, patting his chest soothingly. “You do. Come on, come sit with me.”

Jonah took her hand, a playfully baleful eye still fixed on Lucy.

Elliott grinned as she allowed Jonah to lead her out to the cushioned furniture placed beside the stainless steel and glass fire pits. He sat on one, pulling her down next to him. She willingly crawled onto the oversized bench, tucking comfortably against him.

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