Sway. Shampoo. Repeat.

Lulu giggled.

I stopped, hands dropping. “What? Do I look stupid?”

“No, silly!” She grabbed my hands and twirled me around the dance floor like we were kids. “You’re sexy as heck . . . even I’m getting turned on. It’s the perfect move for you.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

We danced to several songs, and soon I let loose and bounced around doing whatever. Besides, no one other than me seemed to care I was a bad dancer.

Lulu called out over the music that she was thirsty and wanted to grab some water. “Iris” by The Goo Goo Dolls came on—one of my favorites and a surprisingly slow selection by the DJ—so I waved her to go on without me.

Closing my eyes, I reached above my head and moved my arms to the beat, easing my hands down my neck and chest, touching my curves.

I imagined it was a slow and sexy striptease . . .

From behind me, steel hands settled on my hips as a male body pressed against mine and settled into sync with me.

I froze.

“Don’t stop now,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re bloody beautiful, and I want to dance with you.”

A heartbeat later, I lifted my arms again and swayed, and his fingers followed, tracing the length of my hand, my arms. Leaning my head back against his shoulder, I took note of the hard chest. His intoxicating scent.

His nose grazed my bare shoulder, and I reached behind me, my hand threading through his hair and tugging. He groaned.

The song ended, a faster one taking its place, but we ignored the beat, swaying softly against each other.

He lifted my hair and his lips touched my nape, his tongue licking the sweat from my skin.

Desire rippled over me and I shivered.

“Are you hot for me?” he asked, his voice low and intimate. As if we’d done this a million times.

“Yes,” I moaned as his teeth lightly nipped at my shoulder.

His right hand left my hip so he could run his hand down my back.

He unzipped my dress inch by inch.

The music was suddenly louder, harmonizing with my thudding heartbeat.

A part of me was yelling for him to stop, while the other side was remembering how good it felt to have a man touch me. I went with it, ignoring the other voice in my head.

From behind me, he slipped one hand inside my bodice and palmed my breast, massaging, fingers plucking at my nipple.

I groaned at the heat throbbing in my body.

“Hold your dress up so it doesn’t fall. Dance for me,” he ordered, and I did what he said, rotating my body against his as I held on to the dress. He slipped the other hand inside my dress, both hands caressing me.

Everywhere around us people danced, caught up in the loud music. Strobe lights highlighted random faces and then jumped away. No one even glanced at us. They didn’t notice us, and I felt alone with him even though I clearly wasn’t. It was surreal.

It was him.

“You want more?” a dark voice asked. Raspy. Thick with lust.

My breath hitched. “Yes.”

His hand slipped lower and teased the band on my underwear, dipping in to graze my center. Once. Twice. Then moving away. I felt the loss like a pang.

“More,” I begged. “Touch me.”

He cupped me firmly then, the possessiveness of his hand seeming to claim ownership. A finger slipped inside me as his voice whispered in my ear. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” I whispered, my voice shaky.

He groaned, his lips against my neck as he teased me. “Would you let me fuck you here?”

I paused, my hips freezing against him.

“Don’t hesitate,” he said, a dangerous edge in his voice.

I shivered, wanting more of his fingers. More of his mouth. More everything. “Yes, yes.”

Then everything stopped.

He zipped my dress and twirled me around to face him.

Anger rode his face, confusing me, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking him all in: the taut jawline like a movie star, broad shoulders big enough for me to lean on, biceps that would protect me, and that fascinating dragonfly tattoo I wanted to lick.

I sighed.

Hello, Mr. Beautiful.

Acting on pure instinct and clearly not common sense, I traced my free hand down his chest to the V at his hips. I ran my hand over his hard crotch. “Hi there, Sex Lord.”

He stared at me, his eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. “Stop.”

“You started this.” I snaked my arms around him and sucked his neck the way he’d done my shoulder. He tasted of sweat and man, and I wanted to inhale all of him. I was flirting with danger, and this time I couldn’t blame it on tequila or adrenaline or exhaustion.

I wanted to climb him like a tree.

His jaw clenched as he pulled away from me. “First off, I came out here because . . . dammit . . . you and that short-as-fuck dress, and second—I could have been anyone behind you. Even Chad. What were you thinking?”

“That I was going to get lucky?”

My answer didn’t make him happy. He laced his fingers with mine and pulled, forcing me to follow him as he barreled his way through the throng of people on the dance floor. Well, if he’d come out here to protect me, then that had certainly taken a left turn.

Obviously he was ticked about something, but he’d never hurt me. Even as he pulled me through the crowd, he kept glancing back to make sure I wasn’t getting dragged down.

He stopped briefly at the bar where Spider and Lulu sat deep in conversation. They glanced up when we stopped, their eyes big as Dax didn’t speak to either of them but grabbed what I assumed was his Newcastle with his free hand and then headed to the back of the club.