Chapter 7 #3
She still constantly scanned the room, including the faces of everyone close. The draw to her was more powerful than I believed and while I’d been determined to admire and study her from afar, my willpower wasn’t what it used to be.
As the song ‘Naughty, Naughty’ came on, I was provided with a raw, sinful show of seduction that ignited something within the darkest bowels of my being.
The low bass of the music vibrated through the floorboards, but it was the rhythm of her body that truly held me captive. The way she tilted her head, catching the dim amber light sent a jolt of pure electricity straight down my spine.
Highly unusual.
She moved with a fluid, liquid grace that made the rest of the room fade into a blur of meaningless shapes. To a man accustomed to having anything and everything he wanted, the entire world had shrunk down to the space where she stood.
Penelope was suddenly the only person who mattered.
Toward the end of the song, she looked directly at me, a fleeting, knowing smile playing on her lips, and my pulse hammered a sudden, frantic beat. It was a silent invitation, and the heat of her gaze held me completely pinned to the spot.
Perhaps that was the moment I allowed my plans to change. Before I moved into phase two, I required another taste in hopes the moment would provide enough to keep me from losing my fucking mind from need.
This time the DJ had read my mind, slowing down the music and providing something just as provocative, but much more intimate.
I moved through the crowd toward her and before I’d even reached her, she turned to face me. With her mask and the limited light, I was uncertain if there was any hint of recognition, but at this point it simply didn’t matter.
She didn’t turn away, in fact taking a couple of steps closer. Her slight smile was even more seductive than her previous dance. Even now, she was swaying her hips as if daring me to join her. Little did she know what her offer entailed.
I stood only inches away, peering down at her. With her heels, she was only required to tilt her head by a few degrees.
“Dance with me,” I told her.
“What if I refuse?”
With a step closer, I lowered my head and she automatically lifted hers. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you will dance with me.”
Without asking, I slipped my arm around her waist, controlling the dance. The intense desire to pull her closer battled against the competing need to maintain the frame of the dance and respect her boundaries.
“How’s the burn?”
Her voice was clear even over the deep bass of the drums. “Healing. Thank you for the drink.”
“You’re welcome.”
She didn’t ask if I’d had the gift baskets and flowers sent to her room. She wasn’t curious if anyone other than her contact at the hotel had provided thousands of dollars of food and beverages.
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.