“It’s easy when you’ve got a good partner,” he said, turning his head to press lightly into mine. His breath tickled my hair and gently warmed my scalp. He was so hot and—
I swallowed. Just keep talking. “So do you go dancing a lot?”
“Ha, no. One of my exes was really into it and she made me learn some moves. Dancing’s okay, but it’s not really my thing.”
I tsked and ignored the twinge in my chest at the thought of Ian holding another woman close, dancing with her like he was with me. “That’s a shame. I love dancing. It’s so fun to get absorbed in the music, to just let go and see where the beat takes you. Maybe you just haven’t found the right music to dance to, yet.”
“Maybe. Isn’t that your job? To tell me what I should listen to?” His tone was teasing, but something told me that he was only half-joking.
“I guess. But I feel like the act of discovering new music is half the fun. If I just told you to listen to stuff, would you actually like it?”
He shrugged slightly. “I like most music.”
I shot him a skeptical look. He’d clearly never really listened to music before. “Ok…so you don’t really care for music or dancing. What is your thing?”
He stepped through and spun me out again, brought me back in and switched hands to spin me out to the other side, then switched hands behind his back once more until we were face-to-face again. I grinned at him. For someone who didn’t really listen to music, he sure seemed able to feel it.
Finally, he answered, “I wouldn’t say that I don’t care for those things, but I definitely don’t go out of my way to experience them. I do really enjoy cooking and climbing, though.”
“I see. So what is it about cooking or climbing that you love so much?” The song had changed to yet another classic couples ballad. Although I’d only promised him one dance, I noticed that Tom was still watching us. I ignored him and pulled closer to Ian, whose hand shifted lower, shifting my awareness of him lower, too.
“For cooking, it’s enjoying the fruits of my labor, and being able to share what I make with loved ones. For climbing, it’s getting stronger, both mentally and physically.”
“Mentally?” The physical part was obvious, but mentally? I wasn’t buying it.
“Yeah. It’s scary on the wall sometimes, so part of the mental challenge is overcoming that fear. But also, climbing’s just hard. When people encounter enough setbacks, or fail enough times, it can be easy to get discouraged. It’s really important to have a growth mindset and believe that you can always get better, always improve.”
Ah. I shook my head. “That’s a nice thought, but people definitely have limits. You can’t just keep getting better at things.” I bitterly thought of my stagnant music writing career. After selling one piece several months ago, I hadn’t sold any since.
He smiled wryly. “Not with that attitude.”
“Uh huh.” I adjusted my hands so that they were comfortably clasped behind his neck. His rough calluses caught on the fabric of my dress as he smoothed his hands over my hips and pulled me even tighter against him, gently crushing my breasts against his hard chest.
The close contact between our bodies...his clean, masculine scent...the warm fuzzies from the alcohol...conditions were very bad, and I was liable to make a mistake tonight. I tried to smother the growing warmth between my legs.
“You know, I was right,” he said.
“What?”
He lowered his head so that we were cheek to cheek, then whispered into my ear, “You’re not wearing any panties.” His hands gently squeezed my hips.
The warmth exploded into a searing inferno. I knew that I should step away from him and douse the flames, but the reckless, perverse part of me wanted to play this game with him...to tease him back.
“I’m not wearing a bra, either,” I whispered, slipping my fingers into his hair. “Doesn’t mean anything. You’re still not getting laid tonight.” Although the way things were going, I wasn’t so sure.
He smiled against my ear, then slid his hands lower to rest on top of my ass, fingers lightly pressing. I reveled in the sensation, both wanting to slap his hands away and willing him to go lower.
Before he could respond, the song switched over to an upbeat dance track, and couples time was over. We slowly broke apart, the distance tempering the heat between us ever so slightly. I quietly thanked the DJ for doing something helpful for once that evening.
“Do you want to grab a drink?” he asked, offering me his arm. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it, curling my hand once more around his hard bicep as we walked off the dance floor.
“My face is probably red and puffy, so you know I’ve already had enough.” His face, I noticed, was still as tan and attractive as ever. The wine goggles were working a bit too effectively.
“I guess you look a bit flushed, but it’s cute,” he said. Liar. No one looked good with Asian glow.
“What I really want is to get out of these heels.” My feet had gone from fine to tormented over the course of our dancing, but at least the pain helped distract me from the lust.
He craned his head and glanced around, then said, “There’s a terrace out there with some grass. Might be nice to walk on.”
Oooh. Cool grass on bare feet sounded lovely, and some fresh air might help put out the raging California wildfire between us. “Yes, please.”
He opened the door and led me out onto the terrace, where we were greeted by the steady chirping of crickets and a huge, low full moon. It was somewhat windy and chilly, though, which may have explained why no one else was around.
Without my asking, Ian took off his suit jacket and placed it around my shoulders. I gratefully pulled his
