Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Then, a hand came to my hip. My eyes flew open, and I stared up into Court’s impossibly blue ones. He mirrored my movements with his own hips. A rocking that felt all too familiar.
He handed me a drink with a wink. I took it and didn’t halt my movements. Neither did he. I downed the drink like it was a lifeline. Probably not the smartest thing I’d ever done.
Court moved in closer when my drink was gone.
“What are you doing?” I said hoarsely over the music.
“Dancing.” He reached up for my arms, slinging them around his neck.
“This is a bad idea,” I said as his hands slid down my back. “What if people see? Or… what if…”
“English,” he breathed into my ear, “shut up.”
I shivered all over at the caress of his lips against my ear. Just the lightest brush. I was sober enough to know that we shouldn’t be doing this. That this wasn’t what I’d signed up for when I agreed to come to this party. But I was drunk enough to keep dancing. To want to feel his strong hands on my hips, the crush of his body against mine, to see the intensity in his eyes.
It was just a dance. A dangerous dance. And yet, I wanted to keep dancing with him. For one thing, he was just really fucking good at it. For another… well, my brain shut off when he was this close to me.
His hands slid from my hips to the small of my back, inching lower and lower. As if, at any moment, he would slide down to my ass. Maybe even lift the slim black dress I wore and touch skin. Skin that was on fire as we drew in closer and closer. So close that I could just stand on my tiptoes to meet his lips.
At the thought, I whirled around in his arms. Not that this was better. In fact, it might be worse. No longer was I close to his tempting lips, but now, my ass was pressed firmly against his growing erection. If he tipped me forward at the waist, we’d be exactly where we’d started a few weeks ago.
His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Almost as if he knew that I was thinking of bolting. I slumped back against him, letting my hands drop around his neck.
He groaned into my ear. Fire spread through my core. It was erotic. Dancing with him like this made my pulse race and my skin heat and memories flood my system. Ones that I had been purposely trying to avoid. Because thinking about the best sex of my life when I was in Court Kensington’s arms was a recipe for disaster.
“Anna,” he murmured against my ear. “Fuck.”
I shuddered. Which only egged him on.
I needed to get away. Or I was going to give in to this. I wouldn’t care what happened.
I stopped moving and wrenched out of his grip. When I turned to face him, he just looked at me expectantly.
“It’s hot. I have to… get some air,” I said, shuffling past him.
It wasn’t a lie. I was hot and sweaty and sticky. The dancing had superheated me. Or had that been Court?
But I didn’t head outside. I didn’t want to be near people. I pushed through the crowd, away from Court, and toward what appeared to be a mostly deserted hallway. I could see that there was one person in line for a bathroom at the end of the hall. Perfect. Bathroom.
Then I felt a hand grab my elbow and pull me to a stop. I whipped around, only to find Court standing over me, pressing me back against the wall.
“Court, what…?”
“You said you needed air,” he said with a teasing smile that said he knew it was a lie. “The balcony is the opposite direction.”
I squirmed under his gaze. The way he towered over me and made my addled brain think about climbing him. I pointed down the hallway. “I decided on the bathroom.”
“Why are you trying to escape me?” he breathed, inches away.
“I’m not.”
“Stop lying to me. You can hate me. You can think whatever you want about me. But just stop lying. You’re so hot for me right now.”
My back hit the wall. His hand slid up my inner thigh, under my dress, and to my black lace thong. His fingers skimmed across the soaked fabric. I shuddered at the intimacy. Then, he slid the material aside and slicked his fingers through my own wetness.
“Oh god,” I moaned, my head dropping backward.
“See?” he said, as if proving his point.
He slid his fingers out from between my legs and held them between us. Wet. Soaking wet. As if I hadn’t known beforehand. Then, he did the unthinkable, and he brought those two fingers to his mouth and sucked the wetness off them.