Page 37 of One More Bad Boy

“I’m not flirting.”

I chuckled at her bluntness. “Okay. Understood.”

“Dance with me like you’re Korine, not like you’re an ex.”

“That’s easy, since you said your exes never danced with you.”

Amina’s mouth dropped open. Then she looked me over with appreciation, like she enjoyed my call-back. Without another word she began to bob her head to the DJ’s song. Her hips swayed, shoulders shifting in tandem. She was infected by the music. She channeled it—like the steady beat was giving her life. Transfixed by her movements, I stared as she danced by herself only a foot away from me. She didn’t care who watched. She didn’t care if she did this alone. Amina was one with the rhythm. She experienced music in a way few people ever would.

Others began to notice her. I spotted the hungry face of a young man, knew what he was planning as he eyed Amina up and down. Before he could step in and get her attention, I made my move.

“Bach?” Amina asked, blinking up at me as I loomed over her.

I rested my hands on her shoulders, tensing with delight at how soft her skin was. “I’m doing what you said,” I murmured. My hips arched closer to her but didn’t touch.

She let her lashes hood her eyes. “This is how you think my friend Korine dances with me?”

“One million percent, yes.” Smirking sharply, I shot the other guy a warning look over Amina’s head. He scowled, then backed off. Satisfied that I’d made my claim known, I linked my hands with hers and gave her a little spin. “Feel free to guide me, though. I don’t know your friend like you do.”

She kept her eyes locked on mine as I glided my palms up her forearms. Then I cupped her naked shoulders, tracing her lightly shaped muscles, brushing the ends of her short black hair. “Korine wouldn’t do that,” she said huskily.

“Probably not,” I agreed. My touch trailed lower. Amina watched me the whole time, never stopping me as I outlined her curved waist, or as I clutched her hips in a possessive hold. My erection was huge and distracting.

Her body swung closer, so fucking close.

Something dug into my upper-arm. Something that dared to rip me away from that moment with Amina.

“Bach!” Sherman growled, turning me to face him. “I’m going to fuckingkillyou.”

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