Page 37 of Wine & Dine

“May I have this dance?” he asks after fixing his sleeves and stepping up to me.

Take them all, I want to say.

“You may,” I tease, and in less than a second, I’m in his arms, tugged to his chest, but held off just the teeny-tiniest bit. The dance stance. We’re so close but not close enough, and it’s the sexiest position I’ve ever been in. Hesitation and anticipation balance between us.

Peter explains how he wants us to move. It’s a simple eight count, and I follow Garrett’s lead as Peter coaches him. Garrett’s a fast learner and an amazing dancer. His hand on my hip. His fingers coasting up the side of my body. His palm stroking under my arm.

“What’s the matter, Dolores?” Garrett mutters to me as we practice this sultry move, and I shiver. I’m Baby in Dirty Dancing when she laughs at being tickled.

“Nothing,” I mutter, though I lie. I’m so turned on when I’m supposed to be concentrating. “Just lead.”

I follow where Garrett takes me, spinning us, gliding us. Our legs tangle. Our hips collide. Our cheeks brush, and I want him to kiss me. We take another turn, and then his nose drags along the corner of my lip. My eyes close, and I falter. Garrett catches me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, growing flustered and wet. So wet. The aroma—and the aura—of sex lingers between us. I want him like no man I’ve ever wanted. Not James. Not Rusty. I want Garrett to take my body, and I’ll do anything he asks.

Peter snaps out another direction. “Dolores, stand at his back. Wrap a hand around his chest. Garrett will capture it, and he’ll do the rest.”

I roll around Garrett’s shoulder and stand directly behind him. Normally, he’s the one to sneak up on me. Garrett shivers as I exhale.

“What’s the matter, Garrett?” I singsong in the tone he used with me. He chuckles.

The music starts.

I do as Peter directs. My hand starts on Garrett’s bicep and then skims forward to press into his chest. My fingers spread before they are captured by Garrett, who sways us to the side. I step around him to place my body in front of his, and he tugs me into him. His hand splays on my lower abdomen, his fingers so close to the promised land, but I will myself to keep steady as Garrett dips me back and then tugs me forward.

My body screams for his.

He spins me out and pulls me back. We glide in the not-close-enough dance stance a few paces until he turns me so my side leans against him. His fingers spread just under my breast. When he nudges upward, I’m certain that’s not part of the dance. We step one, step two, and then he faces me. His one hand rests high on my back; the other lowers for my hip and then drags up my side in the move we’ve been practicing. His palm skates under my arm to my wrist as his nose traces down the side of my face.

Oh, God. I might orgasm from this.

We bend at the knee and then more steps. Step. Step. Turn. I’m lost to his lead until he tips me backward. His palm flattens on my throat and skims down the front of my dress, between my breasts and lower, narrowly missing my center again.

Take me already.

He slowly pulls me up, and my eyes freeze on his. The melody beats in tandem with my heart…and my sex. Garrett stops moving, and then he kisses me. Tender. Light. Too quick.

The music halts, and I step back. Peter stands in the corner, fanning himself with his hand.

Tell me about it.

“Let’s take five.” Peter points with his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just be a minute.” Judging from the sweat on his forehead, he might need more than five, but I’m not concerned with Peter. I turn back to Garrett, who steps into my dance space and cups my cheeks. His eyes volley back and forth, searching mine.

“Come away with me this weekend.”

My mouth pops open. What is he saying?

“I have somewhere I’d like to show you. Get your opinion on something.”

My cheeks, already flushed, heat further.

“Okay.” I have no willpower to refuse him. His lips curl at the corner, and then his mouth falls to mine, hungry, eager, divine. I’m so worked up from the dance I can’t deny him. I open and take him in, matching his lead once again like a ravenous hussy. I want him to take me on this dance floor with the mirrors so I can watch us. His hand skims the side of my body like it did while we danced. When he reaches my hip and tugs me forward, I’m rewarded with the pressure of his excitement against my lower belly.

“What are you doing to me?” he mutters against my mouth before pulling back and resting his forehead on mine.

Same thing you’re doing to me, Tin Man. Finding my heart.