Page 47 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“Max,” I breathed as his thigh slid between mine as we moved to the music. “I don’t think this is salsa, is it?”

“Hmm?” His lips brushed my ear. “It’s bachata.”

“This isn’t a very casual dance.” I gasped as his hand skimmed down my side.

“What would you call it?” His voice was rough, his eyes intense as they met mine.

Before I could tell him that it felt an awful lot like foreplay, the door opened, and people started filtering in as the club portion of the evening began. The music shifted to something faster, more upbeat, but the tension between us didn’t break.

If anything, it got worse as more couples filled the dance floor. The press of bodies around us meant we had to stay close, and every movement brought us into contact in new and increasingly distracting ways.

Max’s hands seemed to be everywhere; on my hips, sliding down my arms, splayed across my back as he dipped me. Each touch left trails of fire on my skin, even through the fabric of my dress.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured during a close turn that had me practically straddling his thigh at the end of it.

“Me?” I laughed breathlessly. “You’re the one who brought me here.”

His response was to pull me closer, one hand sliding down to cup my ass as we moved together. The dance floor was dark enough now that no one would notice, but I still felt deliciously scandalized.

“Maybe this wasn’t my best idea.” His voice was strained as I deliberately rolled my hips against him.

“Oh?” I tried for innocent. “Why is that?”

He growled something and spun me around, so my back was to his chest. His hands found my hips, guiding me in a slow grind that had nothing to do with the proper dance technique and everything to do with the growing tension between us.

His lips grazed my neck. “All I can think about is getting you out of this dress.”

Heat flooded through me at his words. “What’s stopping you?”

He stilled for a moment, his fingers flexing on my hips. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What happened to casual?” I couldn’t resist teasing, even as I let him lead me off the dance floor.

He stopped, pulling me into a shadowy corner by the door. His hands were anything but casual as they slid up my sides. “There’s nothing casual about the way I want you.”

“Max...”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, backing me against the wall. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

Instead of answering, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss that had been building all night. He groaned against my mouth, pressing me harder against the wall as his tongue swept past my lips.

The kiss was hot and desperate, filled with all the tension that had been simmering between us. His hands roamed my body freely now, and I arched into his touch, wanting more.

“My truck,” he gasped when we finally broke apart. “Now.”

I nodded, too turned on to form coherent words. As we practically ran to his truck, I couldn’t help but think that casual had gone out the window the moment he’d handed me that dress.

And honestly? I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Max

The cold night air did nothing to ease the heat coursing through my veins. My cock was hard as a rock, and every step sent a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to it. I didn’t know if I could hold back until we got home. Hell, I didn’t know if I could hold back until we got inside the truck.

As soon as we reached the passenger side, I spun her around and pressed her against the door. Her breath hitched in surprise, but her eyes were dark with the same desire that was consuming me. I captured her mouth in a fierce kiss, my tongue sliding against hers as I pressed my body flush against hers. She moaned into my mouth, her hands gripping my coat to pull me closer.

“Max,” she gasped when I finally broke the kiss, my lips trailing down her neck. “We’re in public.”

---