Chapter 9 #3
“Wait a minute. Did I hear right? You, Georgia, the girl who hates parties and dancing and talking, the girl whose favorite pastime is being home alone? Having the time of your life dancing with my loudmouth ass?”
A booming laugh bursts past my lips and bounces off the walls. “Hey, you don’t need to rub it in. You were right, I was wrong.” Bold energy runs through me, and without thinking, I move closer to him.
He licks his lips. “I’m gonna need to hear you say that again.”
“You were right. I was wrong.” Close as we are, I only have to whisper to be heard.
“In that case, let me extend you an invitation to return for game night on Wednesday. Little tradition I have with my boys and their ladies, and everyone wants me to invite you.”
“Your friends said that?”
“They like you.”
“I barely spoke to anyone but you tonight.”
“Guess they like your energy.” His fingers ring my wrist, and he pulls me closer. “Who wouldn’t? You give off an irresistible vibe.”
“Irresistible,” I repeat. “Nobody’s ever used that word to describe me.”
“You calling me a nobody?” His fingers slide through mine, their heat enough to warm my entire body.
I shake my head. If only I had the courage to tell him he’s anything but—that right now, he’s everyone and everything.
But maybe he reads it in the way I can’t look away from him, because his eyes sparkle as he pulls me close enough that our linked hands and a couple inches of space are all that separate his hips from mine.
“So what would you call me?” His soft smile teases, but there’s no mistaking this is an invitation for honesty.
“Cash!” The voice cuts through the air, and we both whip our heads toward the pass-through to find Lorenzo watching us expectantly from the living room. He holds up his phone and shakes it, indicating for Cash to do the same.
Cash pats his pocket, and his face falls as he peers down at his phone. “Shit.”
“Did something happen?”
“Damn it. My buddy needs to be picked up.” He scowls. “He’s drunk, and I guess he got in a fight.” His curls bounce as he shakes his head and drops his phone into his back pocket. “I’m sorry. I wanted to get you back on that dance floor.”
I smile even though my disappointment threatens to crush me. “Next time.”
“You want me to drop you off at home on my way?”
“No, don’t worry. Maisy and I already have a plan to leave together.”
Shadows dance across his face while he thinks that over and then nods. “I trust her with you.” His mouth opens like he’s about to say more, but something catches his attention over my shoulder.
“Cash,” Lorenzo yells again.
Brow furrowed, he holds up a hand in acknowledgment.
“I gotta go.” Heat ignites under my skin when he squeezes my hand.
And even though it’s only a second before he pulls away, it’s a second where every ounce of him is focused on me, his eyes settling deep into mine.
“Thank you, sweet Georgia, for the best dance of my life. I’m gonna make this up to you, I swear.
” With that, he turns and backs out of the little room, holding my hand and watching me until the last second.
“Bye, Cash.”
I watch him head for the front door and disappear into the crowd, half my body still floating on a high, the other half sinking into the familiar feeling of being alone in a packed room.
Only then do I realize that, against all odds, Cash promised me the best night of my life and somehow delivered.
Every inch of me aches to have him close again, but it’s impossible to feel anything but high off this incredible night.
I’m leaving the DJ booth in search of a bathroom when the sound of my name in his voice cuts through the music, and I look over to find him forcing his way back to me. The happiness I feel at having even one more minute with him is dangerous.
He watches me as he cuts a path through the dancers, and I wait, heart thumping in anticipation. He doesn’t speak until his face is inches from mine.
“I forgot to give you something.” His low voice resonates through the deepest recesses of my body, and he edges me back into the small space.
“What’s that?” My gaze drops to search for what he might be holding, but before I can find it, my face is in his hands and his lips are covering mine.
Soft and slow and powerful enough to silence every sound that pulses in the room, he kisses me like he owns me.
Like I’m his. And I kiss him back with the same certainty.
The expert, unhurried caress of his tongue and the gentle, possessive pressure of his fingers on my cheeks engulf my senses.
Scent, taste, and touch collide and crisscross brilliantly.
This kiss. This is what people write songs about.
He’s perfect. This moment is perfect. And I can only surrender to the plush, all-consuming effect of his mouth.
Too soon, he’s pulling away, whispering apologies in my ear. “I’m sorry, beautiful, my time’s up.” His gaze holds tight to mine as he backs away. “I’ll make it up to you.”
I don’t blink until he’s disappeared through the doorway once again.
You just did.