Page 47 of Life After You

One I’m not about to refuse.

I step forward, closing the space between us, my fingers skimming up her bare arm. Her skin reacts instantly, goosebumps rising in my wake.

She feels me.

The way I feel her.

Her breath hitches as my hand slides to her waist, my grip firm. Possessive.

She tilts her head back, lips parting slightly, waiting.

I’ll give you what you want, baby.

The music shifts, something slow and sultry, a bass-heavy rhythm begging for friction.

I pull her in, pressing her body flush against mine, and she melts.

Fuck.

Her hips roll, slow, deliberate, a perfect drag against me. Every inch of her pressed into every inch of me, and I feel it everywhere. My hands roam, one sliding up the curve of her back, the other dipping lower, fingers splaying over the curve of her ass as I pull her closer. She exhales—a soft, needy breath, barely audible over the music.

I lean in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I rasp.

Mac shivers, her hands sliding up my chest, nails dragging just enough to make my muscles tighten beneath her touch.

“Don’t I?” she murmurs, pressing back against me, grinding into me with perfect, torturous precision.

I suck in a sharp breath, fingers flexing against her hip.

She fucking knows.

Knows exactly what she’s doing.

Knows how hard I am.

Knows that every single part of me is screaming to take her somewhere private and ruin her.

She turns in my arms, her chest pressing into mine, and I barely resist the urge to claim her mouth right then and there. Her hands slide up, fingers tracing the back of my neck before tangling into my hair. She tugs me closer, just enough that our lips almost—almost—brush.

“God, you smell fucking good,” she says, almost dreamily, looking up at me with a sly smile.

The crowd sways around us, the music thick and heavy, but they might as well not exist.

“You sure you can handle the heat, Dale?” she teases, voice husky, lips inches from mine, begging to be taken, her breath mingling with mine.

Fuck.

I’m not sure I can handle her.

I’m not sure I want to handle her.

I dip my head, my lips ghosting over her jaw, teeth grazing just enough to make her shudder.

“You want fire, baby?” My voice is thick, rough, barely controlled. I drag my mouth lower, skimming along the column of her throat. “I’ll burn you to the ground.”

Her fingers tighten in my hair as she inhales sharply.

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