Paul’s chest suddenly lifted as if he were pulling in a deep breath. “No, it doesn’t have to.” He set down the glass the bartender had handed him and reached for her hand instead. “I don’t believe we’ve danced yet.”

When he drew her into his arms and maneuvered her toward the dance floor, Holly’s heart began to beat in excitement. His touch was electrifying. One hand clasped hers, while the other pressed against the small of her back to draw her against his body. She could feel the heat radiate from him and felt her body flush in response.

As he led her into the first turn of a slow foxtrot, she searched for something to say to cover her nervousness. This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t nervous and shy when it came to men. So why did she feel compelled to bridge the silence between them? “Sabrina said you saved her when the owner of the lingerie store was nasty to her.”

“That was nothing,” Paul claimed, smiling.

“It meant a lot to Sabrina. You were there for her when she needed somebody. She’s my best friend. You were nice to her. That means I’ll be nice to you.” Her pulse raced as she said words he could only interpret one way.

Paul dipped his head to her ear. His hot breath sent a shiver racing down her body and into her sex. “How nice?”

“Very nice—for as long as you want to.” Her breath hitched at her own daring words. She’d just lost her mind and offered a man she barely knew a night without limits. “Anywhere you want to,” she added when he still didn’t respond. Had she gone too far?

“Then what are we still doing on the dance floor?” he finally answered, and slid his hand onto her backside, pressing her against his groin. Already, she could feel a hard muscle there, one that would only grow harder and larger as the night progressed, she hoped.

Feeling the evidence of his arousal gave her newfound confidence. “Shouldn’t we at least finish this dance so people don’t stare at us when we’re rushing out of here?”

“Holly, Holly,” he murmured as if chastising her, and pressed a hot kiss below her ear. His warm lips issued promises she wanted to hold him to. “We can finish this dance if you insist, but I’ll guarantee you that if we do that, people will start staring at us. Because I won’t be able to keep my hands and my mouth to myself. Or another part of my anatomy, for that matter. Your choice.”

When she felt his pelvis rub against her again, she knew there was really no choice. She wet her lips. “I’ve never cared much for dancing anyway.”

“Wise choice.” Paul released her from his embrace, only to take her hand and lead her to the exit of the tent.

His pace wasn’t rushed, but determined. A man who knew what he wanted. And it appeared he wanted her. Tonight. In his arms, in his bed.

“Where to?” Holly whispered, though she didn’t really care where he took her, as long as something soft would cushion her back and something hard would thrust into her while his hot mouth devoured her lips and made her surrender to him.

2

Paul opened the passenger door of his Porsche and took Holly’s hand, helping her inside. Holly slid into the low leather seat, and he glanced down at her while she folded her long, shapely legs into the car and smoothed down her dress with her hands. The thought of those hands touching him very soon made his cock swell underneath his tuxedo pants. The rush of excitement that suddenly coursed through his body made mincemeat of his efforts to play the suave seducer. Instead, he felt like a sex-starved teenager who’d just discovered that his prom date wore no padding in her bra and that her breasts were real, round, and ripe for his touch.

From his vantage point, still holding the door open, he had a perfect view of said breasts. Holly had the sexiest cleavage he’d ever seen. Her flesh pressed firmly against the tight bustier of her bridesmaid’s dress and suggested that once he freed them from the inadequate cage, they would spill over into his palms.

He felt a trickle of sweat run down underneath the collar of his shirt and stifled the urge to rip his bowtie off and the shirt along with it, wishing to keep at least the pretense of coolness and sophistication. Though in a few minutes, Holly would realize anyway that he wasn’t calm or cool at all, but a man who had trouble keeping his passion locked up inside him. He knew he often frightened women with this intensity and had therefore learned to keep his true self locked away. He now conducted his affairs with cool efficiency.

Surely, this wouldn’t be any different, though the end of it was already programmed in. Holly would return to her home in San Francisco in a few days, but while she was still in the Hamptons, still on his turf, he would take what she was willing to give.