Page 76 of How to Ruin Your Ex's Wedding
When’s the last time Hunter touched you like this?
Shit, we’re just dancing, for god’s sake. I’m pathetic.
Relax and enjoy it, Tabatha.
Another Latin-inspired tune comes on. I expect Jonah to start spinning me and salsa dancing again, but instead he pulls me even closer to him. All of me is touching all of him. My bare legs against his jeans feels naughty and sensual. I lift my arms over my head then reach back to circle them around his neck. He seems taller, which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Jonah reaches up and trails his fingers down my arms, making me shiver. He snakes an arm around my waist and spreads his hand across my stomach, holding me firm to him. His hands seem bigger when they are on me. Possessive. Sexy.
Sexy as fuck.
I should go sit down.
It’s just dancing.
I deserve to enjoy myself for a night. I’ll have to admit to Jonah that he was turning me on, but I’ll also have to make a joke of it so it doesn’t get weird. For me. Maybe that would make it weird. I mean, Jonah is a good-looking guy, but I’m not attracted to him, and he’s not attracted to me. The hard on is probably like morning wood. An inadvertent reaction. Or maybe it’s because it’s my butt and he’s an ass man. I laugh at my stupid joke. This is totally innocent. As long as I ignore the warmth spreading through my belly, that is.
I use the back of his neck to pull his head down toward my mouth, then tilt mine back to tell him I’m going to go sit down.
“One more dance,” he says, barely above the music. His voice low and gruff, like he’s turned on by me too. The music slows to something haunting and melodic. The shots buzz through my body. I rest my head against his shoulder and shut my eyes. Our bodies sway slowly, moving as one, his hands on my hips and fingers splaying from my stomach to near my bikini line. His touch injects my body with a heat that’s not been realized in a long time.
He’s young, you feel flattered.
My hips roll, trying to press closer, obviously with a mind of their own. I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips.
He nuzzles my neck, the stubble on his face scratching my skin. “I heard that.”
Just go with it.
I smile, reaching behind me to grab his hips.
Different hips. Not as slim as they were a few moments ago.
Wait a minute.
I turn to face him.
My heart stops.
It’s not Jonah.
“Pax? What the hell?” I slap him on the chest. “What are you doing here? Where’s Jonah?”
“I sent that kid away two songs ago,” he says, pulling me tighter against him, his mouth close to my ear. Too close. “Paparazzies were getting way too many incriminating pictures, had to intervene for your own good and pull you over here where you couldn’t be seen.”
Oh.
I guess that makes sense.
Shit.
“Thanks,” I say, still tense. Still thinking I should walk away. Not remotely comfortable with knowing it was Pax turning me on and not Jonah. Somehow, that makes it worse. More dangerous.
Being turned on by Jonah is okay, but turned on by Pax isn’t?
“It’s just a dance, Tabs. Relax.” Again, he knows what I’m thinking. And he’s right.
Fuck it.
I mean, why not, right?
