Page 118 of Stolen Kiss

Evelyn shot me a questioning look, and I looked away, blushing a bit.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have provoked the wolf. But fuck if this wasn’t the most fun I’d had all week.

“Perhaps we should go home,” Jensen commented mildly.

“Nope,” I answered without hesitation.

Jace frowned at him. “Why? We just got here.”

Jensen’s eyes remained focused on my thighs. I giggled and he looked up, glaring at me. “Don’t you think we’re too old for this shit?”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” I told him. “I’m not thirty yet. And I’m having fun.”

He leaned closer to me and said in a low voice so only I heard, “I can show you a good time at home.”

I pushed his chest away playfully but before I could answer him, the waitress came back with our drinks.

Evelyn and I had ordered pink cosmos, while Jace and Jensen had ordered some sort of whiskey.

I took a small sip of my drink.

“Wanna dance?” Jensen asked me.

My eyes widened. “What? No.”

“Why not?”

Why not? He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. A sense of déjà vu hit me at once. We’d done this before. A little over three years ago, when I first came to New York for the first time to visit Evelyn, the four of us had gone out. To another club in the city.

I had recognized Jensen as the man I’d met in London, but he had looked at me without a hint of recognition in his eyes.

And he had asked me to dance.

I said yes.

We’d drank a lot that night, I remembered that much. And danced a lot, too. After, he took me back to Jace’s house and left me alone to sleep off all the alcohol, and that was that.

But three years ago, I was confident in my ability to dance.

I could dance.

I couldn’t dance now.

“I can’t dance,” I muttered, irritation working its way up my spine over the fact that I even had to explain that to him.

“Baby, you can,” he said softly.

I glared at him. “No, I can’t.”

From the side of my eyes, I could tell Jace and Evelyn were listening to our conversation, but pretended they weren’t—or, at least, Jace was pretending while holding Evelyn back. She looked like she was about to throw her drink in Jensen’s face. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Jensen moved his hand to my left thigh, his fingers gingerly moving over the socket of the prosthetic leg before looking back up at me.

“You probably can’t dance like before. But that doesn’t mean you can’t dance, baby. Let me show you. Please.”

It was that small plea at the end of the sentence that softened me up a bit. My shoulders sagged, though I was still hesitant. I had been fine going to the bar, knowing there might be dancing and I couldn’t participate. I had been a little sad about it, but I had accepted it, and I was excited to be here.

But this…

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