Page 34 of Lennox Lane

The last bit of restraint left her body, making space for stress-relieving fun. She leaned forward then backed into Lennox with a slow, deliberate motion that made his hand tighten at her waist, and his member tighten his slacks.

His mind emptied, causing a full system shutdown. Lane moved on him like she knew exactly what she was doing, because she did. Hips fluid, back arched just enough, her soft, round ass pressed against him with enough pressure to make him see their future. She looked over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, mouth curved like sensual revenge had found rhythm.

Lennox’s free hand went to her other hip. He couldn’t help it, and she didn’t stop him. That was mercy or cruelty. With Lane, it was usually both.

“Still mad?” he asked, voice rough.

“Yes,” she said, rolling her hips again.

He closed his eyes for half a second. “You dance like that when you mad?” He whispered in her ear as she ignored him and wound harder on the growing erection that he was sure she felt.

“Stop talking and keep up, or you scared?” She taunted.

He turned her to face him as he met her gaze. “Scared of holding something I should’ve never let go?”

Her expression held a flicker of desire in her pretty eyes. The song kept moving while the crowd kept singing and swaying. He could hear voices around them, but between them the sexual tension crackled. Lane looked away first, but she didn’t move out of his grasp. If anything, she settled closer—letting her body rest flush against his chest as they found the same rhythm.

Lennox forgot everything that happened because all he knew was Lane was wrapped in his arms. She was warm and soft. Her body moving against his like she had been made to test every piece of control he claimed to have. Her smile kept flashing beneath the lights, signaling that she was enjoying his company. He wanted to bottle it her joy and build a firewall around it. He wanted to punish anybody who had ever tried to take it from her, but mostly, he wanted to hold her long enough that she stopped expecting him to let go.

That thought hit harder than lust. Lust he understood; it was simple, steeped in physical familiarity. It had rules and exits that could be handled in the dark. This was not that. This was him watching Lane let herself have a good time after a day full of blackmail and old wounds. This was her calling out his foolishness and one very unfortunate pack of Depends, but still seeking value in his company. With her cradled in his arms, he realized that he didn’t want to be the man who made her life harder anymore.

He would, occasionally, because he wasn’t delusional enough to think one reggae night fixed his deeply questionable decision-making. He could admit he wanted to be the man she danced with when she needed to remember she had a body built for joy too. Not just survival and emotional war.

She fit him perfectly, and he wasn’t sure if that was a problem or a solution. The heat between them was obvious and sharp enough to draw pleasure out of them if they allowed it, but there was something else underneath it. Something quieter between them, peace.

Lennox tightened his arm slightly around her waist, and she noticed.

“Don’t get sentimental,” she said, looking at him.

“Too late.”

“Lennox.”

“What?”

“You’re not charming your way out of what happened tonight,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“Or the Depends.”

“I stand by the Depends,” he smirked.

She turned in his arms then, one brow lifted. “You stand by telling a perfectly nice man my bladder has trust issues?”

“He wasn’t perfectly nice,” Lennox stated matter-of-factly.

“He was.”

“He ended the date with his scary ass. I would’ve never let another man trick me out of my spot.”

“Because you tricked you out of your spot, then brought diapers to dinner, you deranged Best Buy employee,” she glared.

Lennox laughed, pulling her closer because she let him. “You were bored.”

“I was not bored.”

“You hugged that man like HR was watching.”