Page 3 of Bad Situation

Because for some reason, I feel safer pretending I’m Eli’s rather than having creepy blond vie for my attention. And with the way Blondie’s glaring at me right now, I’ll do everything I can to get away from him.

The blond gestures to Eli but says to me, “I’ve watched you for an hour and you’ve not so much as talked to any man—let alone this guy.”

I slip my phone into my back pocket. “Well, he pissed me off earlier, but here we are.” I look up at Eli who, for the first time since I laid eyes on him, has tipped his lips on one side and I say over the music, “Let’s go.”

I take his hand and pull him away from our spot at the bar, but more importantly, away from the man who almost got clocked on the underside of his nose. I’ve got an iPhone case as strong as a bullet and I know how to use it. Blondie might look pissed off as I walk away with my politically-incorrect pretend friend, but he’s clueless to the fact he most likely dodged a broken nose.

That would’ve messed up his pretty, perfect face.

I have no idea where I’m going besides away from where we were, but I feel Eli’s grip on my hand tighten as we go. Since the place is packed, I stop at the edge of the dance floor and turn to look up at him.

“Thank you,” I yell over the hum of the crowd.

He’s back to stoic and shrugs. He leans down and I feel his lips next to my ear. “The guy was an ass.”

Just when I’m about to agree with his assessment, the DJ booms over the speakers, doing his job to get the masses riled and excited and, all of a sudden, we’re not on the edge of the dance floor anymore. We’re swallowed by bodies when the beat of the music changes. The decibel increases and the energy of the crowd, that was already off the charts, hits another level altogether.

People start to move, some holding their drinks high, others using both hands to do exactly what the song states, exploring their partner, as Ed Sheeran croons on about clubs, dancing, and lovers.

I find myself pressed between strangers whose names I don’t know and another I only know as Eli. My friends are nowhere to be seen and I feel hands on my hips steadying me. Holding me tight, Eli stands tall in the crowd and scans the area around us before catching my eyes again. The lights disappear other than strobes that spark to the beat of the music.

When I look into his darkened features, he says nothing, but he tips his head and cocks a brow.

An invitation.

A silent one … but still, an invitation all the same.

No way would I ever dance with creepy blond guy—but Eli? The new-to-town, responsible man with a fascinating tattoo who stopped drinking to make sure his friends get home safely? Yeah, I can stay for one more song for him.

My only answer to his silent bidding is to bring my hands up to cover his that are still low on my hips and let the music take over. I might have started it by the sway of my hips under his big hands, but that’s all it takes.

After that, it’s all him.

Pulling me tight, every muscle of his body moves with mine, from my shoulders to my knees. And every inch of him is lean and rock hard and warm.

No. Not warm.

Hot.

His hands move, one holding me tight at the small of my back and the other snaking up to twist my hair in his fist, forcing me to tip my head and look into his rugged dark features. From this close, his strong, stubbled jaw is in line with my eyes, and my already-heated body goes into overdrive when his tongue sneaks out to wet his full lips.

Holy fuck.

I exhale a whoosh of air. That must have gotten his attention because his eyes jump to mine right before he pulls me closer. His breath is warm on my temple as Ed sings on, his words and music impossibly sexier than I ever realized while in the arms of a stranger named Eli.

Just as I drag my hands up his body, feeling his abs and wide chest through his thin tee, his hand drops to my ass for a quick squeeze before he spins me, holding my back to his front. But now, I feel all of him, his hands tight on my hips and his face dips, pressing into my hair. I let my head fall back onto his shoulder when his groin moves against my lower back and ass. His hand sneaks around my waist, dipping under the hem of my blouse to tease my bare skin, and it’s all I can do not to give him my weight.

In all my thirty years, I’ve never experienced a sexier four minutes. At this moment, I think I’d do anything he asks as long as he never stops touching me.

My body is buzzing in a whole new way—a better way. An off-the-charts way.

But all good things end.

It seems to be the fucking rule of my life because, just as the song is winding down, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.

Like a bucket of ice water, the warm body encasing mine stills. As if an alarm woke me from an erotic dream filled only with music and a stranger, the tremor of my phone rocks us both out of the moment. My dance partner’s hands tense and, just like that, I lose his heat.

He lets go of me and I have to catch myself on my heels from the loss of his support. I turn to look at him and what I see is not what I expect.

---