Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MACKENZIE
The moment Nate twirls me to face him, I can’t stop the slow, dangerous smile stretching across my lips. His hands settle on me with an effortless command that makes my pussy throb. One hand intertwines with mine while the other slides beneath my arm, his fingers grazing the side of my breast as if daring me to melt.
And I do.
A shiver bolts through me like a live wire, lighting up every nerve ending from my nipples to my clit.
He notices. He has to.
But if he’s affected, he gives nothing away. No smirk, no teasing remark. Just the same stoic intensity he always wears. Controlled. Measured. The only tell is the uptick in this breathing. That, and the way his fingers flex slightly against my waist before he regains control like he’s fighting every instinct to shove me against the nearest wall and claim me.
I should focus on the two-step—quick, quick, slow—but damn it, I can’t think about footwork when I’m pressed against a body like his. He’s all broad shoulders, unyielding strength, and heat that radiates straight into my bones. I don’t just feel safe in his arms. I feel owned .
Desired .
And I’m so goddamn tired of denying myself.
The town will talk no matter what I do. The gossipers will whisper right along with their judgmental stares. But tonight? Tonight, I don’t care.
I look up at him and try to throttle the dizzying current racing through me. But then his amber eyes lock onto mine, and the world narrows to just us. The hum of conversation, the twang of the guitar, and the people moving around us all fade into nothingness. We’re in our personal bubble right here on the dance floor, and I can’t tell if it’s the whiskey or his intoxicating presence that’s making me lightheaded.
His grip tightens, guiding me through another step and pulling me closer. Our bodies brush, and the friction sends a pulse of heat straight to my core, making my panties damp with want.
And God help me, I want him.
I want him to take me out of here. I want him on me, inside me, consuming me. I want to hear my name groaned from his lips like a prayer, to know what that kind of power feels like.
I have a feeling this rock wall of a man could fulfill every sexual fantasy I’ve ever imagined.
And then some.
I’m so wrapped up in the thought that I barely notice him trying to spin me until it’s too late. My heel catches awkwardly, and I stumble forward before I can correct myself. Straight into him.
Massive, strong arms wrap around and lock me against his solid chest. His body feels like a furnace, and I can feel every ridge of muscle through his shirt, every steady beat of his heart against mine.
“Whoa, there, Grace.” His voice is low, warm, and teasing, but something else is underneath, a raw edge that sends a shiver down my spine.
I laugh, breathless, with my hands braced against his chest. Jesus. My gaze runs along his chest until I meet his eyes. Tension coils beneath his skin, and the power in the muscles that caught me is palpable. And then?—
Oh .
Oh.
Something thick, hard, and definitely not imaginary presses against my stomach. My breath hitches as a rush of heat floods my veins. This doesn’t feel average. This feels like a whole package and then some. I tilt my head up, rendered speechless. The way his jaw tightens and his nostrils flare can only mean one thing. This is affecting him. More than he wants me to know.
Slowly, I drag my gaze back to his as the weight of realization crackles between us like a live wire. “Thank you.” My words barely register above the crescendo of guitar chords, but he hears me.
His fingers tighten briefly before he lets out a slow breath as if reining himself in. “Anytime.”
I should step back. We should put space between us. But I don’t.
I can’t .
“I think I’ve had enough dancing for the night,” I say, my voice quieter now, thick with the kind of need that makes my thighs tremble.
“You ready to go home?” His tone is careful. Measured. Like he’s giving me an out.
But I don’t want an out.
Before I talk myself out of it, I make a choice. No second guessing. Tonight, I don’t want to think. I just want to do.
I let my guard drop and speak the only truth that matters tonight. “I’m ready to be alone with you.”
His breath stills. For a split second, his grip on me tightens just enough to tell me that he’s barely holding himself back. That whatever restraint he’s got left is hanging by a thread.
His jaw flexes. “You sure?”
I exhale. Steady. Certain. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and ready to jump.
“I’ve never been more sure in my life.” I meet his gaze head-on. Daring him.
Daring him to stop resisting.
“Take me home, Nate. ”
For one heartbeat, he stays still, like he’s weighing the consequences, like he’s fighting not to take me right here in the middle of the dance floor.
Then, something shifts in his dark eyes. Something primal and possessive that makes my stomach flip.
His fingers slide from my waist, trailing down to capture my hand. He laces our fingers together, his hold firm and unyielding. The air is thick with something dark and thrilling, and I wonder if we’re about to cross a line neither of us can come back from.
Without another word, he leads me out the door as if he’s already thinking about how he’s going to fuck me senseless the second we’re alone.
And I follow.
Because tonight, I’m not just ready.
I’m fucking his.