Her breath caught in her throat as a shiver of awareness rippled through her body. “Why?”
He stared down at her from intense eyes. So dark and deep. How foolish of her to think they had been glowing.
“Because you’ve captivated me from across the room.” He pulled her body closer to his and wrapped his large hand around her, settling it on her lower back.
That might have been a line, but she didn’t care. The way he looked at her with that hungry glint in his eyes made her believe it.
Duran Duran faded into a remix of the Pet Shop Boys East End Girls. Although the surrounding people moved at almost a frenetic pace as they threw their bodies around, Damon moved his hips opposite her to a slower, more sensual downbeat. She mirrored his movements.
As he held her body close, she relaxed and went with the flow. In no time, they found a rhythm, as if their bodies recognized each other’s primal rhythm.
That was what she had wanted tonight—to release all the anguish from the betrayal and just let loose. Tonight, she didn’t want to be Sophie, the wallflower graphic designer. She didn’t want to be the good girl betrayed. The one whose love life had been destroyed as suddenly as a tornado taking down a house and leaving devastation in its wake.
Tonight, she yearned to be free. And maybe a little wild.
Since she’d had a potent, fruity cocktail and had danced with Tara and her free-spirted nature for over an hour, Sophie’s inhibitions had lowered throughout the night. Dancing in his arms practically knocked any remaining self-consciousness out. For once, she wasn’t thinking. She was feeling.
Her hair flowed loose and brushed her shoulders as she swayed. His hand was protective. Possessive. She moved without self-consciousness and felt sultry. Sexy as hell.
It felt amazing.
Goodbye, good girl graphic designer—someone more likely to be up all night to meet a deadline, rather than tangoing with a hottie in the sheets. Hello, the new Sophie, almost dirty dancing with a striking stranger.
Could she let the fantasy continue? Pull off seductive siren for one night of escape?
Damon
Despite his non-dancing declaration earlier, Damon didn’t regret changing his mind. No one had ever made him feel so consumed by desire. He moved behind Sophie and placed his hands on her full hips, barely keeping from pressing against her lush ass.
His wolf was triumphant. We found her. Our mate.
She’s just a pretty woman, Damon countered.
No, his wolf countered. She’s the one. Don’t you sense it?
Damon gritted his teeth. He didn’t need a mate. They were nothing but misery, leading to agony and a cold, lonely death.
But he couldn’t deny the overwhelming effect this woman had on him. He wanted to hold her, touch her, claim her.
He moved his hands down her sides, inhaling her scent more deeply. It stirred a primal reaction in him that shot his desire through the rafters of this dark club.
She dropped her head back towards his chest as they danced. The raging instinct drove higher. He couldn’t hold back from touching her any longer. He pressed his erection against her ass and moaned. That dizzying touch increased the need to do so much more.
What the hell was he doing? Before he went too far right there on the dance floor, he spun her around, so she faced him again. He widened his stance to reduce the height difference. He took her arms and looped them around his neck.
She stared at him from under hooded eyelids, desire palpable in her gaze. Despite all the human scents on the dance floor, all the perspiration and desire, he scented hers. She wanted him as much as he ached for her.
Their bodies moved closer as they danced, as if unable to stay apart. He held her against him, hearts beating together. Everyone else in the room disappeared.
Her scent intoxicated him. Her touch seemed to mark him as hers.
He wanted to touch her everywhere, taste her. Claim her.
Do it, his wolf urged. She’s our mate.
Damon needed more of her.
He pulled his upper body away just enough to look at her face. She glanced at him with anticipation. His gaze lowered to her mouth and her pink, pouty lips parted.
Just a taste.
He bent down as if in slow motion, enchanted by this desire. She seemed to be just as taken by him.
The second his lips brushed hers, embers ignited throughout his body, soon exploding into flames. His wolf howled with relief. She was the one.
They had to claim her.
No, not here. Not in the middle of the dance floor. He didn’t want an audience to his desire.
Damon stroked her upper arm and bent down. “Sophie, come with me.”
Her eyes opened a fraction wider, revealing wide dark pupils that almost fully captured her blue irises. “Where?”
He took her hand and led her through the crowd and into a shadowy nook at the back of the club. “Somewhere we can have a little more privacy.”
Behind black tables where small groups chatted over drinks were couples close together in intimate conversations or making out far from the spotlights on the dance floor.
“I just thought we’d come back here so we can—talk.” Yeah, right. Talking was the last thing he’d been thinking of in that state.
She peered at him and teased, “Did you come here tonight to seduce a woman on the dance floor?”
He chuckled. “No. It was more like peer pressure.” He faced her and traced along her cheek, her jawline, and then her throat. Her skin was as soft as the velvety moss on the forest floor. He wanted to feel the rest of her.
Sophie stared at him from under dark lashes. He swallowed. The pull to her was too powerful, swallowing all the pounding bass that surrounded them.
Damon placed his hands on either side of the wall, his large body shielding her from prying eyes.
