Fearless (36 page)

I love to dance. I took formal dance classes for years when I was younger, so it doesn't take long for me to give myself over to the music and enjoy dancing with a guy who knows how to move. We start out facing each other as we move to the beat of the music, but before long his hands are on me, resting on my hips or occasionally skimming over my butt as we dance together. His arm goes around my waist, pulling me against him so our bodies are pressed together, and we shimmy in unison as we snake down towards the ground and then back up again. Our foreheads touch, and his face is so close to mine I can see the golden flecks in his hazel eyes as he smiles at me—a lazy, sexy smile that is as contagious as it is brilliant. He grabs my hand and spins me, expertly draping my arm around his neck as I complete the rotation and face him again. I let my fingers trail slowly down his chest as he watches, his eyes hooded, before I pull away.

We dance, our bodies communicating on some primitive level as we move together and then apart, his hands constantly touching some part of my body, igniting my skin. My head is spinning, but I don't know if it's the alcohol or Griffin, who's just as intoxicating. He grasps both of my hands and turns me so my back is to his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist before moving his hands to my hips as we gyrate in time with each other. He takes my hand and wraps it around his neck, holding it captive there with a firm grip as we grind together in a slow circle. It's erotic as hell, feeling the hardness of him against me. I feel a distinctly feminine satisfaction in knowing I'm the cause of it. He spins me again, bringing me back to face him as our bodies press together again, but this time his hand rests at the back of my neck, the pressure of his fingers forcing me to look up at him.

My eyes widen at the unexpected intensity of his touch, but before I can react his mouth is on mine. My lids flutter closed. His lips are soft and warm, and I can't help but kiss him back. He lightly licks my lips and they part involuntarily, giving him the access he clearly wants. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I can taste alcohol on his tongue like metallic sparks. In some distant part of my somewhat fuzzy brain I'm aware of his fingers tangling in my hair, holding me still as he ravages my mouth. I'm a willing participant and I kiss him back hungrily, my tongue tangling with his as I feel my stomach drop the rest of the way to my toes.

His tongue slides out of my mouth but he keeps his lips pressed to mine, completely still for a moment, as though he's memorizing the imprint of my lips against his. I pull away and out of his embrace. The song is over and my heart is beating fast.

“Thanks for the dance,” I say breathlessly and walk away, leaving him standing alone on the dance floor.

Special thanks to Kim Kiser, Debbie Richardson, Renae Cobb, and Catherine Stolarski for the early reads, comments, advice, and enthusiasm, and for always making time for me. This story, and I, would not be the same without you.

 

Also a big thank you to the world's best proofreader—you know who you are—for never letting a steamy scene get in the way of your focus. And also for the smiley faces and margin notes.

 

I'm so grateful for the fellow writers and new friends I've met on this journey—my Golden Heart 2014 sisters who made me one of them even after I had to withdraw
Fearless
from the competition, the authors I've met through Romance Writers of American who have been amazingly kind, welcoming and supportive, the group at IndieRomanceInk, and the incomparable Kallypso Masters, who was kind enough to answer all my questions and then some with astonishing candor. I appreciate you all.

 

Last, but certainly not least, my love and deepest gratitude to Gena and my mother, for never losing their faith in me.