Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Natalie
I shout-whispered to Cat as I danced, “Cat, they’re watching us. I think they’re talking about us.”
“Who?” She glanced around, pulling off the subtle look like I never could.
“My dreamboat and his pals. And Hunter.”
Cat took a side glance toward the bar, because of course that would be where they were hanging out.
I spun around and took a long look. Max looked divine, all dressed up, overdressed compared to his two young pals.
They almost looked like his unruly kid brothers standing next to a full-grown man who knew what he was doing.
He exuded that air of been there, done that, the confident, nothing-ever-fazes-me air, the air of a mature man’s man.
The exact kind of man I wanted to try on for size.
I moved closer to Cat.
“I want to spin closer and find out what’s up. I want to dance with a man,” I said. “Nothing personal.”
“We know you’re not talking about just dancing.”
“And what if I’m not?”
Cat laughed. We’d slowed down, dancing closer so we could talk, but I never stopped moving my hips because I knew they were watching.
I threw a flirty glance in their direction now and again to keep them interested, especially Max.
He didn’t reveal his interest, not obviously, but I knew it was there.
It was a sixth sense I had about men. Most women—or at least the boy-crazy ones like me—had this ability to know when a man was interested whether he showed it or not.
The fact that he didn’t show anything made him even hotter, made me want him even more.
And not because that made him some kind of challenge.
No, but because it made him different, more under control, subtle.
My perfect foil. A mature, calm, reasonable, hot as hell man.
I’d bet anything he had some banked passion underneath his calm exterior.
He wasn’t the intense quiet type like Hunter, more like the calm, cool, collected type who saved his intensity, picked his spots.
And I wanted to be one of those spots he picked.
“I can handle myself,” I said. “Don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried about you,” Cat said. “I’m worried about poor Max.”
I laughed. “Don’t you believe me when I tell you I have nothing but honorable intentions?”
Cat rolled her eyes in usual Cat fashion.
I sashayed through a lot of hot bodies, aiming myself straight for the prize, the hot and manly Max Devon.
When I reached them as they stood whispering and staring, I said to the trio of Brandon, Sean, and Max, “Which one of you men wants to take a spin around the patio?”
My eyes lingered on Max’s, making it clear he was my choice. Of course, the least innocent-looking of the three, the one Cat said was a devil, jumped forward at the invitation, hands first. Sean Patrick reached an arm around me and swung me toward the dancers without waiting a beat.
“I believe I’ll accept that invitation,” Sean said.
He spun me out and from that step forward it was a war for control between us.
The dance was tumultuous as we clashed and I was out of breath well before he was, but my pride—and the fact that I knew Max was watching—wouldn’t let me quit.
Hoping Max couldn’t see how forced my smile was from the distance in the low light, I exchanged few words with Sean.
His hands were hot and his body hard. He was good-looking in a rugged way, all brash and young.
By the time the song ended, I was ready and slipped from his quick grasp in a move I’d perfected through my vast experience with clumsy young studs.
The last thing I wanted tonight was another one of those.
But when we returned to the bar, Hunter and Max were both gone.
Brandon said to me, “He’s dancing with another one of Cat’s friends, I think.”
I gave him a grateful smile and put my arm through his.
This one was sweet, young and coltish but without the brashness.
Brandon I could tolerate, at least on the dance floor.
But there was no way I was inviting him to my bed.
He grinned, unaware and uncaring of my intentions, taking the invitation to dance at face value. Exactly as I’d meant it.
I wasn’t surprised that Max hadn’t remained on the sidelines, that he’d attracted the interest of another woman and ended up on the dance floor for a classic slow song, “Knights in White Satin.” I couldn’t help thinking of Max as my white knight.
But as Brandon drew me in close and swayed, my sigh was too obviously burdened with resignation.
“You’re truly interested in Max, aren’t you?”
“Transparent and guilty as charged.”
He nodded and swayed, circling me around.
“Hey, you’re not half bad,” I said.
“You sound like my sister.”
“Sorry about that.”
He shook his head and smiled, then leaned in and put his clean-shaven cheek against mine, his fresh tangy scent pleasant yet lackluster, providing no juice, no tumult in my gut, no shock to my nerves.
“How about if we run into him?” he asked.
“You’re a doll. I owe you.” Holding back from giving him a kiss because I didn’t want to muddy the waters, I made a mental note to find this guy a nice and gorgeous young woman of his own.
Not that he couldn’t find someone himself, but I sensed he could use help cutting through the school of sharks.
True to his word, Brandon turned me around the dance floor until I backed up into the solid wall of Max Devon. I’d recognize the scent of him anywhere.
We both turned and faced each other. “Who else would it be?” he asked.
“It’s crowded out here,” Brandon said, grinning with no pretense. I noticed his eyes slide to Kristen and introduced them.
The song ended and when the next song started up, Brandon deserted me for Kristen.
“At last you’re mine,” I said to Max.
“I should probably be scared.” With a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth, he took me into his arms, no fear at all. He held me close even though the song wasn’t exactly slow.
“But you’re not,” I said, nerves making my voice uneven.
“Too enticed to have any sense.” He pressed his cheek to mine and moved to the beat.
I moved with him, the sensual thump of the music mingling with my pulse, matching it, making me breathe heavily, making me feel like this dance was the best foreplay ever.
Everything in me throbbed every time we bumped together, his heat penetrating my thin dress, his scent filling my nose and lungs until I needed him more than oxygen.
Lust twisted my gut, wringing out my carnal juices until my panties were soaked through.
“Who needs sense?” I spoke into his ear. “We’re here for fun, to escape all the responsibilities, right?”
“You a mind reader, Red?” He gave me a raised eyebrow look then pulled me close again so that my mouth rested so close to his neck, to his jaw, that only a lift of my heels and a small turn of my head would get me to his lips.
The tantalizing scent of him begged me to take a taste, just one small touch of my mouth to his skin.
Like a drunken sailor, I leaned in and pressed my mouth to his neck. The pop of heat against my lips made me wobble and flooded my senses like a swig of whiskey drowning me. I felt his pulse race, his chest inhale, and his arms tighten as his face pressed into my hair.
“You feel so good,” he said as if he meant too good. His movements slowed almost to a stop as the song wound down.
That was all the encouragement I needed.
It was now or never, the primal urgency in me shouted.
I lifted on my toes and turned my face to his.
He moved his head, angling to meet me. And I kissed him, pressed my lips against his hot male mouth and let the explosion of feelings cascade through me, giving free rein to the shot of orgasmic pleasure that went straight through my center.
Clutching his head with one hand and his lapel with the other, I swear I tried to merge with him bodily right there as he returned my kiss, staking his claim of my mouth with his tongue and taking control.
At least he had some semblance of reality, some idea of time and place outside of our bodies that I hadn’t realized I’d lost, because he pulled us to the edge of the patio, almost onto the sand, away from everyone.
Then he ended the kiss, lifting his head and spinning me to face away from the crowd and the lights.
It was then I realized the band had stopped playing and the dancers were dispersing.
“Wow.” I breathed the word, almost panting, still holding on to him, still not letting a shred of air or space or light between us.
His deep chuckle in response sounded shaky as it resonated against me. One large hand swept the hair from my face then took my chin and held it. His bedroom eyes stared into mine, gleaming with that unrequited lust I knew all about.
“You’re something, Red. A guy could get carried away with you.”
“Please do. Carry me away. Wherever you want to go,” I said.
I couldn’t help myself. I had no idea if it was a good idea or a bad idea, I only knew it was the only idea of any kind in my head.
The thought of Max kissing me, touching me, doing all kinds of things, took up all the space, all my desire and energy.
He smiled, his eyes crinkled, his dimples showed, making him look younger and older at the same time. Making him look irresistible and heart-stoppingly perfect, the man I needed to have, the one my ovaries cried out for, the one who should be the father of my babies and love me for all of time.
“You make it sound so simple.” He slid his hands to my bare shoulders, then down my arms, creating a trail of snapping nerves and longing. Then he stepped back from me, holding me apart from him, forcing the cool night air to flood in between us and causing me to shudder violently.
I wanted to say something then, had no idea what it would be, and would never know, because Kristen and Brandon approached, coming to stand by us, laughing and unaware they were intruding. They must have been freaking blind.
“That band is damn good—pardon my French,” Brandon said.
“I know. Right?” Kristen said. “But I need a break. You guys found a cool spot here with a breeze from the ocean.”
“You’re not doing half bad keeping up, old man,” Brandon said.
They hardly noticed that Max and I remained mute while they spoke to us.
For my part, I felt like I was reentering earth’s atmosphere and I’d need a few minutes to recover from the scorching heat of the descent.
Max seemed to recover himself a little quicker than I did.
He seemed to be quick at everything, like Superman.
“I’ve managed so far, but I think I could use a tall glass of water and a rest.” He gave me a look of apology.
I’d expected him to take me with him, but he didn’t.
Didn’t even offer to get me a drink. I was stunned into silence, feeling deserted by him or maybe it was my own expectations.
I’d thought we’d stick together for the evening.
Eventually go back to his room and I’d spend the night with him. Was that all in my head?
I know for damn sure I hadn’t imagined the off-the-charts magnitude of the earthquake between us.
A person would have to be a zombie not to get that.
But evidently it wasn’t enough for Max to stick with me, He had a whole different set of expectations for the night. Or maybe he really did need a breather.
Kristen had filled the otherwise silent air with her observations about who the best dancers from the team were and Brandon had his own ideas. Their discussion came to a deadlock and Brandon tagged me to weigh in.
“What do you think, Natalie? Who’s a better dancer, Gabe or Hunter?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’d have to take them each for a test ride first.” It was the exact Natalie Singer thing to say. Kristen laughed and patted my shoulder.
“I should have known you’d say that,” she said.
I tracked Max’s movements as he went to the bar, exchanged words with the pretty bartender—causing my lady parts to shriek in alarm—and got his glass of water. True to his word.
“I’ll give you odds you’ll have your chance before this weekend is through,” Brandon said. “That is, if Mia and Cat let you.”
“Sure they will,” I said. “Those ladies have a lock on their men stronger than the vault at Fort Knox.” Keeping my eyes on Max, I waited a beat. But I didn’t care if I was obvious, not really.
“In the meantime, how about you and I dance?” I said.
“Sure. Let’s go for it,” Brandon said. I put my arm through his and gave Kristen an apologetic look over my shoulder.
No way was I giving up on Max. And no way was I standing around waiting for him without giving him something to think about.