Ellie pulled out of his hands and leaned on the bar next to him. “Hey, listen,” she said, trying not to get lost in his sexy eyes. Where’d he get those perfect lips? she thought, unable to help the smile that stretched across her face. He was so handsome. His square jaw and Roman nose could have been chiseled from stone. His dark eyes were amber mixed with mahogany…
So much for not getting lost.
“What’s up?” he asked, and Ellie reeled from the blast of tequila on his breath.
“Do me a favor, okay? Why don’t you take it easy on the drinks? In fact, you’ve probably had enough already, so why don’t you let me take you home?” Ellie swallowed hard, suddenly feeling awkward as all hell.
Why didn’t she ever think before she did anything?
Who did she think she was, coming over and telling him how to handle his business?
James’ eyes went wide, and he threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll make a deal with you, Ellie Charles, goddess of Sunday morning coffee. I’ll consider letting you take me home on one condition.” He leaned in close…closer than she’d ever been with him. Ellie couldn’t decide if she was more turned off by the stench of liquor on his breath or more turned on by the electricity charging the space between them. She nearly whimpered, then cleared her throat and got control of herself.
“What condition is that?”
“You come dance with me.” James angled his head toward the back of the bar, where the band played a fast song, the singer clutching the microphone to his mouth and tapping his head and foot as the guitarist's fingers flew over the fretboard. “Unless you don’t think you can keep up. Which I get ‘cause, you know, I’m one hell of a good dancer.” James shrugged and his gaze darted to her lips while his mouth formed the sexiest little smirk she’d ever seen.
She needed to say no.
She knew that.
Her best bet was to disengage and walk away.
But she’d fantasized about dancing with James since her Junior Prom. Who was she to pass on the chance to bring a dream to reality? She was only human, after all.
“All right, but you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, my friend.” Ellie straightened and offered James her hand as she backed away from the bar. Ignoring the curious stares from the people around them and the nasty remarks from the guys on either side of James, she followed him onto the dance floor.
The man wasn’t lying. James knew how to dance. But Ellie was no slouch herself and before she knew it, she was laughing and smiling and enjoying the hell out of the smoldering eye contact he kept locking on her.
Sure, he was drunk.
Sure, he’d spent the last hour or so being an inebriated jerk, but that was the past.
She was getting to dance with the James Moore…a man who kept looking at her like she might be something special, too.
The song ended and the band rolled into another, much slower and sexier. Without missing a beat, James pulled Ellie close, one arm reaching around her waist, the other clasping her free hand.
God, he smells good.
His body felt hard and strong against her curves, the two of them fitting together perfectly. She was pretty damn sure her cheek would feel amazing pressed against his shoulder, which only added to her need to melt into him.
But, common sense prevailed and she resisted the urge to melt. Ignoring everything her body was trying to tell her, she froze and tried to pull away. “Our dance is over.”
“That was only half a dance,” James murmured into her hair. “Give me one more.”
She never stood a chance. He ran his hand up her back, paused at her shoulders, and then let it slide lower than it’d been before, landing right above the curve of her ass. He pressed her hips forward, molding her body to his, and lowered his head until she had no choice but to press her cheek to his chest. He had her all wrapped up, held tight and swaying to the music like they were long-term lovers, not short-term acquaintances.
Ellie knew she should pull away. Put an end to it. He was too drunk to know what he was doing and she’d be a fool to let herself enjoy what was happening as anything more than what it was—James Moore drinking and flirting away his broken heart. His behavior had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the woman he’d lost.
Still, she sighed and relaxed her restrictions on the urge to melt, excited by the way his hands felt as they explored her back. Exhilarated by the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed beneath her hand. Distracted by the way her lower body got all warm and melty and not ashamed to admit she was enjoying the moment. A lot.
When the song ended, James held her close and for a few magical seconds, neither of them moved. She turned her face up to his and found him staring down at her, his mouth so very close to hers.
“You’re very pretty, Ellie,” he said and her name sounded so fricking good in his gravelly baritone. “I’m surprised I never noticed it before.” As his gaze flickered to her lips, she watched his mouth form a smile and suddenly, none of what was happening felt as good as it had moments before.
“You’re drunk, James,” she said, pulling away. “Now, let me take you home so you can sleep it off.”
He staggered a little when she stepped out of his arms. Damn it, Ellie, she thought. Of course you get yourself wrapped up in this guy when he’s so wasted he won’t remember.
“Come on, big boy,” she half-whispered. “Let’s get you home.”
James wrapped an arm around her shoulders and waved to his friends. “Shee ya later!”
Ellie cringed at his slurred words.
