Page 53 of Billionaire Romance

"This turned out pretty good for me, I think. Though if you hadn't spotted me in that crowd of dancers it could have been a lot worse."

I feel his eyes on me then in a way I haven't before, falling down my body and taking in the lacy bodice of my dress and the flow of my skirt down my crossed legs, the fabric pulled up a little and exposing some skin. "I think I'd be able to spot you anywhere," he says softly. And when I look up at him there's no lie in his eyes. My breath seems to have evaporated in my chest and I may imagine the fact that he looks at my lips. Then there's a smile, as if he realized what he said. "You're a terrible dancer. I could have seen you a mile away."

"Oh, thanks," I say, laughing. "I'm sure the great Eric Marshall has much better moves than I do."

"I never said that. I'd probably cast a neon spotlight from here to Paris if I started to dance."

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, it is.” A pause. "I wasn't expecting someone like you," Eric says suddenly.

I take a sip from my glass, and it's empty and I place it down. Within a minute it's seamlessly replaced with another one and I barely notice them appear. But that drink is too good not to have more. "I'm not sure what that means.”

He laughs. “My sister has tried to set me up before. Usually with one of her friends. I’ve gone along with it, and let’s just say that it hasn’t worked out. We don’t usually have the same priorities.”

“So how do you know I’m different?”

“For starters,” he says, smiling into his glass, “you didn’t ask to be set up with me.”

“True. I only nearly killed your sister.”

Now he laughs again, a real laugh this time. “I still can’t believe that happened.”

“Neither can I. Not my finest moment. But I’m still not sure that’s a positive point in how I’m different from your sister’s friends.”

Eric reaches across the space between us and takes my hand gently. “You just told me you said yes because you wanted to have a date on Valentine’s Day. You didn’t know who I was, you just wanted some genuine human connection. In general, I’ve found that Bianca’s friends don’t always see me as a human connection. They see me as dollar signs.”

“Oh.” I blush, because it’s true. I had no idea who he was.

I’m very aware of his skin on mine. “Happy to be of service.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” his fingers brush against my skin. “All I expected it to be was a service. But then you seemed different. I wasn’t planning on taking this mysterious girl out. But I couldn’t stop myself.”

Oh my God. Iris was right. I don’t know what to say. I think my mouth is open. Shut your mouth. Say something. Anything. “That’s flattering.” Eric laughs and I quickly take another drink. “I’m bad at this, as you can see, which is why I’m always single on Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t think you’re nearly as bad as you think you are,” he says. “I’m enjoying myself.”

I look away from his gaze because it feels more intimate than I’m ready for. But oh, I want to be ready for it. "Well, at least I'll be in good company with my bad dancing," I say, drinking deeply from my glass. "Who knows, you probably saved that creep a horrible fate by not letting me step on his feet."

"He would have had it coming," Eric says seriously. "But I'll take my chances."

"With what?"

Standing, he reaches out a hand. "Of dying from bloody toes."

"You want to dance with me?"

There's fire in his eyes. "I do."

I know that we were kidding, but actually I am a terrible dancer and there is a small chance that I could kill him. "I really am terrible."

His mouth tips up into that little half-smile again. "I'm not."

What the hell. This can be one of the details that I give Iris tomorrow, because I might not have a chance to dance with Eric Marshall again, and I'd be an idiot to pass this up. I finish the rest of my drink in one sip, placing it on the table before I take his hand. He weaves his fingers with mine and guides me back to the dance floor. The music is pulsing, and I realize that we're not going to be doing a whole lot of talking. And I also realize by looking around, that we're not going to be doing the kind of dancing that I imagined either. People are pressed up against one another, moving in sync, hips locked together in a way that only suggests one thing, and suddenly my body is on fire.

He pulls me into the dancers with him, and this time it doesn't feel as overwhelming, and yet it does. Because now we're here to dance. This song has a medium beat and a thrumming bass, and for a second, I can almost pretend that I have rhythm. But Eric didn't lie, because as he pulls me against him, he seems to move effortlessly with the music. He spins me under his arm and my skirt whirls out around me before he pulls me back to him.

I'm so small compared to him, I have to look up to see his face, and when I do, the raw need there makes me shudder. His hands are on my waist, and I can feel the heat of his hands through my thin dress. I'm suddenly very aware that I'm not wearing any underwear. No bra because it would show and no panties because Iris convinced me they would be seen and ruin the line of the dress.

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