Page 24 of My Cowboy Salvation
Seeing as how this is exactly what I’ve been hoping would happen all night, I slip my hand into his dry, warm one, enjoying the confidence that emanates even from this slight touch. Resting my other hand on his shoulder, I shiver as his other hand comes to settle at the small of my back.
“The way you’ve been warming that bench all night, I was starting to think you didn’t know how to dance,” I say as he moves me expertly around the floor without saying a word.
“Usually don’t. Brings too much attention.”
“Well, you’ve played your hand now, Chief. Every woman is staring at you like you’re a piece of chocolate cake, and they’re ready for dessert.” Still silence. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“Why would I be? You’re a beautiful young woman. You should be out here enjoying yourself with no worry about anything but having a good time.”
There’s still that tone. “Are you implying I shouldn’t be having a good time? I should be hiding away in a corner instead?”
He sighs. “Of course not.”
“Then what? Could it be that, despite your insistence we are and can only be friends, that you’re, perhaps, jealous?”
His jawline tenses just as his fingers dig a little into my back.
Bingo.
I try not to grin, but I can’t help it, especially as he shakes his head ever so slightly. “Why would I be jealous of a few punks who probably don’t know their elbow from their asses?”
“Good question. But they certainly know their way around the dance floor. A couple of them even asked for my number. Mentioning something about maybe meeting for coffee, or maybe a movie…”
“What did you tell them?”
“I’m considering their offers.”
“If you like them, then you should go out with them,” he snaps.
“Is that so?” I’m ready to call his bluff. “Then in that case, maybe I’ll go see Mitch about that dance.” I start to pull away, but his hand at my back is strong and firm, and he pulls me hard against him.
“Not a chance,” he mutters. “None of them are good enough for you.”
“If they’re not good enough for me, then who is?” I ask, daring him to admit it.
“Fuck. You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Dylan,” he says, his voice low and strained.
“I know exactly what I’m asking of you. Say it.”
“None of those punks are good enough, because the only person you should be with is me, damn it.” He looks away, and I struggle to find breath.
Neither of us say anything more as he simply holds me, his hips moving so close to mine, his hands on my back. I’m dizzy and lightheaded by our physical connection that’s somehow made more erotic by the fact that I know dozens of eyes are on us, watching us move, making guesses about our relationship. I don’t care about them or their guesses, since right now I’m lost in the depth of his blue eyes as he dances with me, slowly, sensually, as if it’s a prelude of what might be to come.
For a second, I close my eyes and inhale his delicious masculine scent that hints of sandalwood and something dark and rich and forbidden. When I open them again, he’s still studying me under half-lidded eyes that blaze with undeniable lust. Need. Want.
“Then make me yours,” I say bluntly.
Any worry I might have had that he didn’t hear me is erased by his sharp intake of breath. He pulls me hard against him, and I can feel the stirring of his erection, even here. But it’s dark enough under the fairy lights strung above us that we’re the only two people who would know.
Suddenly, his hand tightens over mine, and he turns me so I’m tucked against his side, his hand still around my waist as he leads me across the floor. I follow him without question, and we weave our way through the dancers until we’re out in the open air, walking along the outside of the building. Just as we reach the corner, he pulls me behind it, past some bushes, where we are away from any prying eyes.
We’re alone. Well, save for the hundreds of people on the other side of this brick wall that presses against my back just as Logan’s mouth descends over mine, hot and demanding and leaving me gasping for breath. His tongue traces the contours of my mouth, and I taste the rich notes from dark beer.
Lost in the pleasure of our kiss, I barely notice his hand as it reaches under the bottom of my dress until his fingers slip into my panties, searching for—
Ah.
I moan as he finds my sensitive bud and strokes it, softly and slow at first, then increasing his speed as my breath hitches, and I spread my legs farther apart for him.
