Page 32 of From the Embers

Sorry—not sorry—but Hannh was punching way above her base line with D. He’s far too good for that awful woman.

Quite a crowd is gathering and guys are offering us drinks and wanting to dance with us. Ellie warned me earlier, and this is the type of place you go to hook up, but I just want to dance.

I also don’t take drinks from strange men, so we both politely refuse and keep dancing with each other.

The floor is crowded, and we try to move away from the dudes eyeing us up. I know I dressed like this all by myself, and I like men looking, but that doesn’t mean I want to be touched. When one of the guys comes up behind me, his hands about to reach for my hips, I turn and step back. “I’m taken,” I say.

He pouts. “You’re gorgeous, a fucking knockout.”

“Thanks.”

That was kinda sweet, but when he turns and does the exact same thing to another unsuspecting woman, I roll my eyes.

I’m lost in the music as Ellie and I dance back to back, and I really let loose. Even though I’m a bigger girl, I’ve always been a good dancer. It may have taken me a couple of very strong cocktails to realize that I’d almost forgotten about my athletic ability on the dance floor, but I’m reminded now as me and Ellie join hands and spin.

We both laugh, almost bumping into people as we make up our own routine, they begin to clap around us, egging us on.

“Clearly I can’t take you anywhere,” Ellie laughs.

I snort. “Seriously? You’re the blonde bombshell around here, not me.”

Ellie has shoulder-length platinum hair, flawless makeup and pretty blue eyes. She has a gorgeous mid-sized body and knows how to shake her booty. We hit it off because Ellie is really outgoing too, and doesn’t shy away from conversations.

“I’m betting you’re glad you came now, aren’t you?” she goes on as the song changes.

“I totally am!” I squeal when I hear the next song that I adore and we start all over again.

Ellie is a good dancer, and as the dance floor grows, we try our best to keep to ourselves. I don’t mind dancing with dudes, but not when they get handsy.

Somewhere between impromptu fits of laughter at our ridiculousness, and Ellie wrapping her arms around a cute guy’s neck—apparently he’s called Shaun and they’ve hooked up before—I glance around me, straight through the gap on the dance floor, where my eyes lock on Denver. At least, I think it’s him. It’s dark, obviously, but I’d recognize his silhouette any day of the week.

My eyes must be deceiving me though because I know he wasn’t keen on clubbing. But he’s here.

He’s standing on the outskirts of the dance floor, his hands in his jeans pockets like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. Then as the lights flash by and I catch sight of his face… yep, my spidey senses were correct. Denver’s sexy green eyes stare at me with a look on his face I’ve never seen before. Awe and lust, if I had to describe it, but something else as well. Jealousy?

That inkling is confirmed when a man moves in front of my view, blocking Denver out as he starts to swivel his hips toward me. I mean, he’s not bad looking, but I only have eyes for Denver.

A few seconds later, my eyes widen when I see Denver approaching, but then he moves to the side, sliding behind me as I feel his hands on my hips. He pulls me closer to him, my back to his front and whispers, “Show’s over, Princess.”

I tilt my head, his breath on my neck makes me shiver. He’s looking over my head at the guy in front of me. “Beat it,” he says in a menacing tone.

I use this opportunity to test Denver’s limits. I mean, he chose to come and interrupt, so I may as well make him work for it. I swirl my ass side to side, my arms raised above my head as I grind back against him. Holy moly. This man is pure steel, I’m well aware of that, but the way his hands grip my hips sends a new thrill right through me.

“That was rude,” I say, not sure if he can even hear me. “Not a sharer?”

“Letting another man see you in this dress is not my idea of fun, baby girl. And no. I’m not a sharer.”

I lower my body so I’m brushing all the way down his torso, then move back up. I don’t just feel him, I fucking feel him. His erection presses up against my back as I tease him with my dance moves.

He spins me so I’m facing him. His fingers grip my chin. “You are a fucking sight, Adi.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He closes his eyes for a second as I continue to move in front of him. When they open, they dip down. First to my chest, then even lower. I hope my hips—heck, my entire body—look like a fucking road map to his universe, and I’m not just blowing my own horn; this dress should be illegal.

“You’d be shocked what I want to do to you.”

I move closer to him, pulling him by the waistband at the same time. He looks like a dream. His black, collared shirt is open at the nape, his hair freshly washed and still damp. And that scent again… it does things to my insides and makes me want to jump him right here and now, not caring who sees.