Page 28 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

“Is Gabby what?” she asked.

He thought for a moment, but why not tell her? “I was with Logan and another man—Josh Slater, the ship’s head of security—when the ship went down. We worked together, almost got cut off together. Josh broke his leg. Logan carried him out while I cleared the way. That’s how I got this.” He stroked a finger down the scar on his cheek.

“I like your scar,” she said. “Makes you look like a pirate.”

“Why would you want me to look like a pirate?” He shook his head. “Don’t answer that. Anyway, we nearly died, and in the lifeboat afterward we got talking and we decided that we’d each go back and change something. Things to do before you die, we said.”

“And you decided to come and find me.”

“Si.Find out why you ran. Prove to you that what we had was real.”

She glanced away, a frown forming between her brows. For a moment he thought she was going to say something about love, but she took another sip of wine instead.

“And what sort of vows did the others make?”

“Logan is going to find his fantasy girl…some woman he had a one-night stand with eleven years ago. And Josh was planning to find the wife he hasn’t seen in five years and get an annulment, move on with his life.”

“Oh.” She put her glass down and stood up. “Right, enough of the chit-chat. Let’s dance.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

He gave in to the inevitable—next time they would do something of his choosing, and he’d show her something of his real life. He had a few ideas. But tonight he was dancing.

The music was fast, a song he vaguely recognized, and everyone else was moving unselfconsciously on the floor, oblivious to anyone watching. Gabby seemed to slide into the music, become one with it, closing her eyes, raising her arms above her head, her whole body undulating to the beat. He stood and stared as the black dress he’d thought so demure stretched taut over her breasts, the hem lifting to show her thighs and a glimpse of pale skin. She was wearing stockings. God almighty.

Her eyes flickered open, and she looked at him, then her arms dropped and her hands rested on her hips. “You’re not dancing.”

He cast a look around him at the other dancers, tried to imitate their moves but he felt jerky and awkward. He closed his eyes, determined to do this.

How hard can it be?

He attempted to feel the music—isn’t that what you were supposed to do? But he just felt a complete ass. He opened his eyes to find her still watching him, and stopped moving.

She grinned. “You really can’t dance, can you?”

He scowled. “It appears not.”

At that moment, the music changed from a fast rock beat to a slow ballad.

“Reprieve,” she said with a little shrug of her shoulders and then held out her arms.

Bad idea.

But as the lights dimmed even further, he couldn’t resist. Stepping in close to her, he breathed in her sweet scent. She rested her hands on his shoulders, and he slipped his arm around her slender waist, drawing her against his body. Her breasts pushed against his chest, her head at his shoulder. As she swayed to the music, her body slid against his, sending the blood rushing to his groin.

“Relax,” she murmured.

He glanced around, but other couples were dancing equally close. The light was dim, and he eased the tenseness from his muscles. He hadn’t considered he’d get to hold her tonight. This was an added bonus he should make the most of.

They’d agreed “no sex” but there was no reason they couldn’t touch. As if in agreement, she pressed her hips against his, and he gave out a silent groan as his dick jerked to life.

He felt like a randy teenager about to explode, which might be embarrassing.

She turned her head slightly and he felt her soft lips against his throat and then her tongue tracing patterns on his skin, sending darts shooting through his body, to settle in his groin until he was hot and hard.

“Hey, didn’t we say no sex?” he whispered into her ear.

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