Chapter 17 #2
When we reached the dance floor, Ronan turned to face me, his free hand finding the small of my back, as if it belonged there.
My body moved into his without hesitation, fitting against his chest like matching pieces.
My fingers curled around his shoulder, while my other hand remained clasped in his, held close between our bodies.
“You move like you were made for this,” he murmured.
We moved together, a slow sway that required no thought, our bodies attuned to each other, finding harmony without effort. The bass notes vibrated through the floor, while the saxophone wove between us like another presence, urging us closer.
“I didn’t know the chief of police’s training included dancing,” I teased, tilting my head back to see his face better in the low light.
His infectious grin set the tone, as if he were slightly embarrassed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Dr. Price.”
“I’m so looking forward to finding out.”
He pressed against my back, bringing our bodies flush against each other.
I was fully aware of the hardness of his thigh brushing against mine, but there was restraint.
A power move deliberately held in check, waiting for the right time to be unleashed.
The knowledge that this man, who commanded such natural authority, was holding himself back for me sent a thrill racing down my spine.
We turned slowly, with my eyes closed, letting the music guide us. Ronan and I moved together, no space between us, my thigh occasionally slipping between his, his hand drifting from my waist and hips just low enough on my backside to send clear messages about where his thoughts were headed.
The heat of him seeped through the thin fabric of my dress; his cologne mingled with the natural scent of his skin, creating something intoxicating. I breathed him in, my cheek coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat quickened against my ear, strong and steady.
Without warning, Ronan dipped his head, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.
The contact was featherlight at first and then more insistent as I responded by arching slightly into him.
His kiss turned into a gentle graze of teeth against my skin, sending electricity shooting straight to my core.
“Ronan,” I whispered, not sure if I was asking him to stop or begging him to continue.
His hands went back to my waist, steadying me as he traced a path of kisses up the column of my throat, each one more devastating than the last. Not caring who might be watching, I tilted my head to give him better access, my fingers curling into his shoulder as heat pooled low in my belly.
Two could play this game. I turned my face toward his ear, my lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below it. When he shivered in response, I grew bolder, grazing my teeth lightly against his earlobe, feeling his sharp intake of breath like a victory.
“You’re playing with fire, woman.”
“Maybe I want to get burned.”
We swayed together, our bodies creating delicious friction; each brush of his hand against my back sent sparks racing across my skin.
In this public space, surrounded by strangers and soft lighting and music that seemed written just for us, I felt more intimately connected to him than in some of our most private moments.
And then it hit me, the reason this felt so different, so significant. I wasn’t guarded anymore. For the first time since Devon died, I was simply present. Chosen and choosing.
The realization must have shown on my face.
“What is it?”
“I was thinking about how far we’ve come. From that holding cell to here.”
“Best arrest of my career,” he replied with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. His hand left mine to cup my face, thumb brushing along my cheekbone with such tenderness I nearly came undone right there on the dance floor.
The song was winding toward its conclusion, Etta’s voice soaring on the final notes. As the last chord hung in the air, Ronan’s lips found mine, and I drank the sweetness of his kiss. Aroused now, I drew myself closer to him.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing harder, the band had already moved on to another song.
“We should probably . . .” I gestured vaguely toward our table.
“Pay the bill and get out of here? I was thinking the same thing.”
As we made our way back to the table, Vincent approached us with our bill. Ronan placed several bills in the leather folder without even looking at the total, his attention still fixed entirely on me.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, gathering my purse. As we stood, Ronan leaned close, his breath warm against my ear.
“Remember the spend the night bag you told me to bring? It’s in the car.”
Heat rushed through me, memories of his cabin flooding back.
“Say less. Your place or mine?” I told him, already moving toward the exit.
“Closest,” he replied without hesitation, his stride lengthening as we reached the door.
The night air didn’t cool the fire building between us. Ronan’s hand found mine as we half-walked, half-jogged toward the parking lot, both of us laughing like teenagers.
“Can’t believe I’m running to a car in these heels.” I gasped between laughs as we reached his vehicle.
Ronan’s smile was pure sin as he pressed me gently against the passenger door, his body caging mine. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”