Page 31 of Watching Her

And she also wasn’t interested in learning my name.

I was finding everything about her even more fascinating.

She gripped my arms, not in a way indicating fear or discomfort, but as if we already knew each other. The rhythm of her breathing changed, becoming shallow as I moved her from one side to another.

The scent of her perfume was intoxicating, refreshing while awakening my senses. With lingering effects of vanilla and citrus, I was momentarily breathless.

For a little while, the world around us ceased to exist.

Having her in my arms was a sweet moment that I rarely allowed myself to enjoy.

Leading her felt natural, a silent conversation where every shift of my weight telegraphed the next move. There was a raw, masculine thrill in keeping her grounded while watching her lose herself in the music.

She tilted back her head while sliding her hand over my shoulder. As with the kiss the night before, the closeness was surreal. Also as before, she tangled her fingers in my hair, her actions playful and unexpected. Even the way she darted her tongue across her bottom lip was done merely to test my resolve.

Inviting yet only for the moment.

I instinctively knew she wasn’t ready to face the darkness.

I barely heard the melody any longer. The real music was the sound of her breath, the soft friction of our shoes on the floor, and the sight of her smiling face completely free of self-consciousness.

As with all moments of temptation, an end was necessary. When the song carried out its last passionate beat, her posture changed. I allowed her to pull away first and didn’t attempt to stop her. She needed to feel comfortable knowing I had no intention of being forceful.

“Thank you for the dance,” she said while taking a step away, but holding herself with a smile.

“You’re entirely welcome. Absolutely my pleasure.”

There would be no second dance, no foray into further intimacy.

Biding my time would take more strength of will than I was used to, but my patience would be well worth the wait. I wanted her to choose me just as much as I’d already chosen her. If I pushed too hard or moved too fast, I’d risk making her feel cornered.

Although the thought had already left a lasting effect on my mind.

As she moved away, daring to take one last look, I breathed in another whiff of her perfume.

Claiming and possessing her would be my greatest achievement.

CHAPTER 8

Penelope

“Hi. I’m Penelope Michaels. I had a text to drop by the front desk.”

The young man behind the counter lifted his head, smiling. “One second.” His fingers flew and as he was checking, I scanned the lobby. The conclusion of the event had been bittersweet. I’d had a great time, more so than I’d imagined.

I’d met some incredible people and had gained a significant number of followers. Nothing yet that would change my little world or my bank account, but every follower meant by business was building.

Plus, I had a feeling I’d developed several friendships that would last long after I’d flown back home.

The only regret? That I’d been too scared or too much of a good girl to push for spending more time with Mr. Hottie.

Yes, I’d wanted to, but I wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. Plus, there’d been something overtly dangerous about the man. That’s what had drawn me to him, the seductive way in which he presented his arrogance. It was very much unlike me to find his haughty attitude attractive. I’d asked a couple of people in hopes of finding out who he was, but no one seemed to know his identity.

I’d had the perfect chance to discover his name but had chosen to keep the mystery going. What an idiot I’d been.

“Ah, Ms. Michaels. Yes. I wanted to let you know that you had a winning bid on the charity auction. Congratulations.”

“I’m sorry. What?” I laughed as soon as he made the statement. “There is no way.”