Page 7 of Redemption

“I’ve had enough to drink,” I counter smoothly, choosing not to chastise her for gulping her cocktails.

It seemed to be an anxious response, and I don’t want to rebuke her for being nervous around me. I like keeping her on edge.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” she equivocates when we step onto the dancefloor.

“Let me lead,” I command. “Take my hands.”

I grasp both of her smaller hands in mine before she can make the choice herself, caging her slender fingers in a careful but firm grip.

“Hold on to me.”

I step toward her, and she eases back in perfect time. I’m not sure if she’s following me in the dance or if she’s edging away from my predatory energy.

I pull her into me, spinning her around so that she twirls before her back presses against my chest. Her shocked laugh is melodic, twining through the beat of the music. I keep her trapped against me with an arm around her waist for a few swaying steps. She moves with me beautifully, surrendering to my control despite her nerves.

I spin her away before she can get uncomfortable in my arms, and she laughs again. She tosses her glossy, sable hair, and the golden lights catch on the pretty purple curl that falls over her left shoulder. I crave to twine it around my fist and pull her in for a fierce kiss.

Instead, I spend the next two songs twirling her around the dancefloor. Her cheeks are an even deeper shade of pink, and her lips part on little panting breaths as her body warms for me.

Desire pulses through my veins, and it’s all I can do to keep my hands from straying to her pert ass instead of gripping her waist.

Hunger for this woman sets my teeth on edge, but I’m enjoying the new, slightly discomfiting sensation. I’m losing myself in the hunt: a more savage psychological dance as I lure her in with every step. Our bodies move in time, and I allow her to see my need for her burning through my eyes. We’ll be perfectly compatible when we fuck in a few short hours. Abigail is proving that she naturally follows my lead, and despite her good girl sensibilities, she’ll succumb to my dark needs.

The music slows to something more sensual, and I tug her flush with my chest. My arm is an iron band around her lower back, pinning her to me as I methodically back her off the dancefloor with each swaying step.

We reach a quieter, shadowy corner of the bar, and her eyes flare the moment she realizes that I have her trapped.

But she doesn’t stiffen in distaste like she did when the uncouth idiot invaded her space at the bar earlier.

Her head tips back. Her pupils are dilated, and the lights flash over her eyes so that they shine like precious gemstones.

I finally indulge myself and twine her amethyst curl around my finger. Her hair is like silk, and I wonder how soft her skin will feel against mine.

I lean in slowly, and her head drops back farther. I allow her to simmer in anticipation, until she’s practically trembling with need.

At the last moment, I tilt my face to the side so that my cheek skims over hers. My lips tease the shell of her ear when I whisper, “What does a good Carolina girl like you want me to do to her?”

I’m testing her, teasing her. I’ll deny her the kiss she so clearly desires until she yields a bit. I want to know a sensual secret so that I can better manipulate her into accepting my twisted games.

“Who says I’m a good girl?” she breathes, and the words are hot against my skin.

My fine hairs stand on end, a strange prickling sensation on the back of my neck that I’ve never felt before.

I hum in consideration, and she shivers in response to the low rumble. I breathe in her sweet, slightly fruity scent and indulge myself, nuzzling her silken hair.

“What if I tell you to be a good girl for me?”

Her breath catches, but she shakes her head. “I’m not good.”

Boldy, I shift my tender touch on her hair so that I can capture her nape in my hand. “I can make you be my good girl. Would you like that, Abigail?”

“Make me?” It’s barely audible, a little puff of warm air on my cheek.

“You’ll love being my good girl,” I promise darkly, and she quivers in my hold. “I guarantee it.”

I graze my teeth over her vulnerable artery. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” She trails off, so I give her a small bite to loosen her tongue with a little flare of warning pain. “I want you to make me,” she whispers in a rush. “I want you to pin me down and use me.”

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