“Not with you around,” Marcus said.
Eden smiled. “Is that a yes?”
He sighed. “All right. But if things get crazy, we’re going to leave.”
“You do dance, don’t you?”
“Badly,” he said. “Although I can do the chicken dance. My niece taught me. And the Hokey Pokey. Does that count as a dance or is that technically a game?”
Giggling, Eden grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. “I’ll give you a quick lesson. We need music.” She ran over to the cabinet that held his stereo equipment and flipped on the radio, scanning through the stations until she found suitable music. Then, with a sexy smile, she wiggled her way back to him, swaying her hips provocatively and turning in circles to the music.
Marcus watched her, desire flickering in his eyes. She held up her arms as she approached, then pressed her hips against his and moved with the music. He tried to mimic her movements but he was off beat.
Eden grabbed his hips. “Just listen to the music. It’s like sex.”
“I can see that,” Marcus murmured, staring down at his groin. “And what if I have the same reaction on the dance floor as I’m having now?”
“Oh, that happens all the time,” Eden said.
He stopped. “Really?”
She nodded and pulled him back into the dance. “That’s why you’re only allowed to dance with me.” She turned around and moved her backside against his crotch, knowing full well the effect it was having on him. She placed his hands on her hips and bent over, rocking back against him with the beat of the music. Slowly he began to get the hang of it and Eden smiled. “You’re doing well,” she said. “See, it’s not so hard. I mean, the dancing. The other is impressively hard.”
“I’ve always been good at sex. And you can’t convince me that this is anything more than foreplay to music.” He grabbed her waist and spun her around, then pulled her into his arms and began to slow dance with her.
But Eden wasn’t about to be deterred. She hitched her right leg up along his hip and tucked his hand beneath her thigh, then began to move against him again.
“If you don’t stop that, we’re never going to get out of here.” Marcus bent her back at the waist and pressed his mouth to her neck.
Eden turned around and rubbed her backside against his crotch again. “I knew you’d like it,” she said.
But Marcus liked it a bit too much. With a playful growl, he grabbed her around the waist, picked her up off her feet and carried her toward the bed. They both tumbled onto the mattress, and he stretched out on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. His mouth came down on hers, and Eden lost herself in his kiss, the familiar taste of him like an addictive drug.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip.
“What?”
“I teach you how to do your laundry and you teach me how to dance and each time we manage to make it about sex.” He nuzzled her neck. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of you.”
Eden swallowed hard. This would have to be enough. She was leaving tomorrow. They had one night left together. If they stayed in this apartment, she knew she’d begin to question her decision. “Good. I want to leave you wanting more. I’m going to haunt your dreams at night and inhabit your fantasies during the day. I plan to make your life miserable once I’m gone.”
Marcus stared down at her, the smile fading from his face. “You will. I know you will.”
Eden wriggled out from beneath him, uneasy with his shift in mood. “Good. Now get dressed. We’re going out and we are going to dance.”
Marcus rolled over on the bed and covered his face with his hands. “All right,” he said. “But I’m going to have to take a cold shower before we go. And if you do that to me again at the club, I’m going to be forced to drag you into a dark corner and deal with the situation in the proper way.”
“I’m counting on that,” Eden teased.
8
THE DANCE FLOOR WAS crowded, lights flashing in time with the music and the noise deafening. Marcus held Eden around her waist as they moved. He felt people’s eyes on them, but he took his cue from Eden and pretended he didn’t care.
It was an odd feeling, being the center of attention. Thankfully no one had come up to bother them or ask for Eden’s autograph. The club catered to the wealthy summer crowd in Newport, and the manager had been more than happy to usher Marcus and Eden inside ahead of the rest of the line and provide them with a table in a quiet corner.
A waitress had appeared just moments after they’d sat down with a bottle of Cristal and two champagne flutes. Marcus had reached for his wallet, but the waitress had assured him that the bottle was on the house.
Once he got used to the fact that he was drinking two-hundred-dollar champagne as if it was water, Marcus began to enjoy himself. There was an infectious energy in the club that wasn’t present in the establishments he usually visited. Pool and darts were the main activities at his local pub, and that usually involved drunk men and not scores of beautiful gyrating females.
The music began to wind down, and Marcus bent his head and gave Eden a slow kiss. She smiled up at him, slightly tipsy from the champagne they’d drunk. “Isn’t this fun?”
“It is,” Marcus admitted. “Are you getting tired?”
She nodded. “Take me home. I want to tear off your clothes and make crazy love to you for the rest of the night.”
He glanced around. “Let’s go then.” Marcus laced his fingers through hers and led the way to the door, Eden walking behind him as he pushed through the crowd. When they reached the bar, he flagged down their waitress and gave her a generous tip, then continued toward the exit.
Outside, the air was cool, a breeze coming off the ocean. Marcus wove through the small group still waiting to get inside, and Eden held on to his arm, leaning into him. Everyone stared, but Marcus pasted a smile on his face and nodded at people as he passed.
“Hey, Eden Ross! It’s Eden Ross!”
The guy came out of nowhere, his video camera clutched in his hand. At first, Marcus didn’t understand what he was saying. But then Eden’s fingers tightened on his arm, digging into his biceps. She stepped behind him again, hiding from the curious looks of the crowd.
Marcus held out his hand to warn the guy off, but he continued to approach, staggering as though he’d had too much to drink.
The video camera focused on Marcus now, and Marcus quickly moved his hand in front of the lens. “Hey, buddy, just turn that thing off. We don’t want our picture taken, all right?”
“Jus’ lemme get a picture of her. Who gives a rat’s ass about you?”
Marcus cursed as the man tried to muscle his way past him. He grabbed his arm and gave it a yank, but the guy turned on him, swinging with his free hand. Eden screamed and scampered back, but Marcus had no intention of running from this fight.
“Hey, Eden, is this your new man?” the drunk asked. “Why don’t you both just do it right here on the sidewalk and I’ll tape it? We can all make a million.”
Marcus wasn’t sure what happened next, only that it involved pure instinct and no reasoning at all. His fist came up and connected with the drunk’s nose, and the guy staggered, then fell backward onto the pavement. Marcus bent down and grabbed the video camera, searching for a way to extract the tape.
The drunk’s wife started screaming for someone to call an ambulance and the police, and an instant later the bouncer stepped into the fight, grabbing Marcus from behind. The bouncer had at least fifty pounds on him, but Marcus had been schooled in street fighting from an early age. He brought his heel down on the bouncer’s instep, and the moment his grip loosened Marcus spun on him.
In one sure movement, he tossed the video camera to Eden, then gave the bouncer a swift uppercut to the
