Page 201 of Poison Aches

“W-what are you doing?” I whisper, feeling intensely self-conscious.

Eyes have been on me since we arrived.

The whispers have been a buzz and now, I’m on the dance floor with the man who is much more dominant than any other in this room.

It’s not Emmett’s tall, well-built frame like he’s a professional athlete that makes him, but it’s the way he moves silently and yet everyone in here is keenly aware of him, including every inch of me.

It’s as if there’s a charged undercurrent ofsomethingat Emmett’s presence. I can see some people backing away as if dodging an unknown danger.

I can’t tell what he’s thinking as he stares at me, but I do know one thing.

His entire focus, though chilling, intimidating and unpredictable, is entirely on me.

I should back away as well, but he’s looking at me in a way that glues my feet to the spot.

“What?” I mutter.

Emmett steps closer and then he wraps his arm around my waist so naturally it feels like he’s familiar with my body, my soul and everything I never knew I was functioning in me.

He leans in close, his lips lowering until they are right by my ear. “You look fucking delicious in that dress.”

And suddenly everything that was dormant in me, as if lifeless, comes back to life.

I can feel…everything.

The flexing muscles in his arm.

The roaring of the blood in my veins.

My heart is in my throat, my eyes glued to his wildly gorgeous face, his sharp jaw that’s still clenching slightly, and the way he wears the hell out of his tux.

Jesus Christ, save my soul.

This man is more than sexy, hot, and everything carnal and sinful.

He’s too much and he’s very much aware of that.

I hold his cold green stare.

Pulling me close as the orchestra starts playing their rendition of “No Goodbyes” by LÉON, I suddenly become mute, paralyzed by both the incredulity of this moment and the way Emmett is looking at me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, feeling multiple eyes on us.

“Dancing with you.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks, watching me.

My heart practically stops beating in my chest.

Years ago I used to dream about this.

I’d write in my diary how much I wanted Emmett to pull me into his arms and just dance with me.

I’d sometimes sit in my room and instead of studying, I’d daydream the way Emmett would look at me.

The way he’d gently spin me around.

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