Page 96 of On the Breakaway

Honestly, I’m not sure if I can, but damn does she make me want to try.

For the thousandth time, I hate myself for not finishing the deal that night in the bathroom. Maybe then she’d be out of my system, and I could find the woman in front of me more appealing.

Before I can let the woman down easily, a hand locks around my wrist, tugging me into the darker section of the dance floor. The crowd thickens the farther back we go until our friends disappear completely behind moving bodies and flashing lights.

Like gravity, Avery’s eyes pull mine directly to hers, and all I find is heat and jealousy.

There’s no acknowledgement of what she just did, but I can’t stop the satisfaction from flickering across my face.

Someone slams into my shoulder, shoving me forward, and my hands catch Avery at her hips. As soon as I touch her, every rational thought in my head disappears. And by the way her breath hitches, I’m pretty sure it has the same effect on her.

Instead of pulling away, she turns, pressing against my chest. Her back arches, and her head leans back against me as we move to the beat, our bodies as close together as possible.

“What are you doing?” I ask, bending forward so she can hear me.

“Dancing.”

It might sound innocent, but nothing about the way she’s moving against me is innocent.

The bass pulses through the floor while my fingers flex harder against her hips. The material of her dress is thin beneath my hands, heat from her skin bleeding straight through it.

She turns toward me then, one hand sliding up my neck, and my restraint slips another inch. My cock strains against my pants as she slides against me, her eyes darkening.

“Wow,” she murmurs.

I close my eyes briefly. “Don’t.”

“You’re really enjoying yourself.”

I lean down until my mouth brushes the shell of her ear.

“Are you saying that if I slid my hand up this dress,” I whisper, sliding my hand down her leg until it meets skin, “I wouldn’t find you fucking drenched for me?”

“You tell me.”

Her thighs spread just slightly, causing her dress to ride up higher on her legs. The stairs to the second floor cast a shadow over us, hiding us from view. She nods, eyes hooded with lust as I slide my hand between us, planning to place a quick, teasing touch against her panties.

Instead, I find her bare and so fucking wet.

Bad idea.

Very bad fucking idea.

I groan out loud, sliding my hand right back out before I get us arrested for bending her over right here on the dance floor.

“There he is,” she murmurs.

My eyes flick around us, trying to figure out who she’s talking about.

“The wild side everyone thinks you don’t have,” she clarifies, looping an arm around my neck.

I hum, but it comes out rough. “You seem to drag it out of me.”

“That’s because even though you hate me, you really want to do dirty things to me.”

“And even though you hate me, you want me to do dirty things to you.”

I trace the curve of her waist beneath my palms, sliding my hands around her until they cup her ass, pulling her harder against me. She keeps moving to the beat, but all of her attention seems focused on the friction between our bodies.