Page 41 of Love Thy Neighbor

Oh well. He wasn’t that great of a dancer anyway and kind of gave off douchebag vibes. A little too full of himself for my liking.

I’m about to turn back into the crowd when a nagging stops me in my tracks, like I’m being watched.

I slide my eyes toward the other end of the bar.

There he is.

Watching me.

Cooper’s light green eyes are locked on me like I’m the only person in the room. The hair on my arms stands on end, and I shiver.

Lust.

Even from here, it’s clear as day.

Cooper is staring at me like he wants to eat me alive.

He tips his glass of whiskey to his lips, taking a long sip, not once moving his eyes off me.

It’s intoxicating and nerve-racking all at once.

The nerves win, and I flee back onto the dance floor, hiding from his scrutiny. Hiding from the thoughts I shouldn’t be having that are swimming in my head.

It’s too much at once, and I need a second away from him.

Not once in the last ten years of friendship have I had anything other than platonic thoughts about Cooper.

Now I can’t seem to stop thinking about him in verynonplatonic ways.

Two hands curl around my waist, and for a split second, I panic.

Then the familiar scent washes over me.

Sage.

Warm.

Summer nights.

Cooper.

His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me into him until my back is flush with his front.

As if we’ve done this a thousand times before—and we certainly haven’t, not even once—he takes control, moving us in perfect sync.

His chest is hard, his arms strong.

He feels like Cooper and a stranger all at the same time.

The song ends and another begins.

We don’t stop dancing.

Cooper’s grip tightens, almost to the point of hurting, but I don’t dare try to move, not wanting to break this spell we seem to be under.

I like it too much.

The alcohol.

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