Page 144 of The Forbidden Note

“You’re drawing more attention to us,” she snaps.

“Then let’s give them something to watch.” I curl my hand over the small of her back and drag her to me so fast she lets out a little cry of surprise. With my other hand, I interlace our fingers and move her back and forth.

“This isn’t how you dance the waltz.”

My lips skate over her ear. “The waltz is boring. I’d rather have you grind on me.”

Her lips purse beneath the mask. “This is exactly why we chose this theme. It forces kids to have some decorum.”

“Only in public.” I lean closer and her sweet smell poisons my air, making me almost dizzy with need. “But I promise you, most of the guys are crawling under their girlfriend’s skirts later.”

“Tell me who they are and I’ll stop them.”

“You’ll be too busy later.” I meet her eyes and give her a pointed stare.

Her lips part slightly. “Zane, I already told you—”

“Ah-ah.” I pull her into me. “You’re not a teacher tonight, remember?”

“What am I if I’m not a teacher?” She fires back.

My words whisper across the back of her neck and I see goosebumps rising there. “Until Dutch gives the signal, you’re mine.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

GREY

I know the students have spiked the punch. I can smell it from a mile away. And, honestly, it feels like I drank my own share of liquor tonight.

Zane Cross is a special kind of drug as he guides my body to the swelling rhythm of the live orchestra. The way his hips pulse into mine with the beat is downright vulgar.

And yet there’s something so enticing about it.

Like a tease of what’s to come.

A display of unapologetic sensuality.

I can’t help feeling like this is the perfect representation of us.

Bodies covered from head to toe in long-sleeves and a voluminous skirt to my ankles. Music that heralds from days when the rules were strict and proper decorum was a must, not a suggestion.

And yet here we are.

In the middle of that cold, unforgiving world.

Bodies pressed together, throbbing with the beat of the music and moving in a way that’s neither proper nor decorous.

Zane’s hands are on my waist, burning me through the fabric. Each step is deliberate as he takes the lead.

He spins me and, when he wraps his arms around me again, I’m closer to him than I was before.

Zane leans in and puts his mouth near my ear, the soft, tempting curve of his lower lip grazing my lobe.

“It was a mistake to wear this dress, tiger.”

“Because it was so expensive?” I smile sharply.

I really hope that hurt his wallet.

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