“I’m not much of a club person,” Miranda said.
“I went to the ballet. You can go to a club.”
She absorbed that and squared her shoulders, almost as though she were bracing for a tackle. He grinned at her. “A little dancing never hurt anyone.”
“It might hurt you,” she pointed out.
“You dance. I’ll watch.”
She started to protest.
“Just joking, darlin’. This will be easier than a pirouette.”
“Okay, Baryshnikov,” she said with a wry smile.
As they walked into the VIP room, the full volume of the music crashed into them, and he felt her hesitate. Putting his arm around her waist, he swept her through the crowd to the dance floor. Taking her fragile little wrist in one hand, he pulled her arm up over her head and twirled her around to face him.
That motion cost him a burn of agony. He placed her hand on his shoulder and moved her close as he picked up the beat of the music. A slow dance. Luck was with him.
She stood on tiptoe and spoke over the music. “I don’t want to hurt you by moving the wrong way.”
“Follow my lead and it won’t be a problem,” he said, drawing her in closer.
For the first time in his life, being injured paid off.
Miranda had a hard time finding the flow of the music with Luke’s nearness and touch setting off little explosions of sensation all through her body. His hands were wrapped around her waist, holding her so close that the fabric of her trousers and his jeans brushed every time they moved. He had lifted her hand onto his shoulder, where she could feel the ridge of muscle shifting under his T-shirt. She held her other hand awkwardly at her side. If she tried to put it on his shoulder, she would have to move even nearer to him because of his height.
As another dancer bumped against them, Luke ended her debate by pulling her in so her thighs were between his as they swayed to the insidiously seductive beat. She gave in and raised her free hand to his shoulder. That put her nose almost against his chest, another awkward position. She allowed herself to do what she had wanted all evening, turning her head to rest her cheek against the cotton of his T-shirt. It held the warm, male scent that was simply Luke. She could feel his breath riffling the hair on top of her head, making her scalp tingle.
Enveloped by the heat and power of his body, her own throbbed with awareness. He surprised her by being completely in sync with the music, his movement and the sound amplifying each other. The room was dark, lit only by colored lights along the walls, and they were surrounded by couples locked in each other’s arms. No one was paying any attention to them, so she relaxed, letting his body carry hers into their own private rhythm.
He responded by moving his hands to press against the upper curves of her behind, sending ropes of heat searing through her. They coiled low inside her, stoking the growing ache of arousal. She sucked in a breath as she willed him to move lower, to cup her with his hard, warm palms.
Instead, he rubbed his thumbs in circles over her lower back in time with the music, so the yearning within her pulsed with every movement.
It was a strangely primitive end to what was supposed to be a day of high culture. Maybe this was what he needed to balance it, something wholly physical.
The thought made her stiffen, and he flexed his fingers into her flesh to bring her more firmly against him.
She let go of her resistance. She hadn’t been held like this by a man in too long. In fact, she’d never been held by a man like Luke Archer.
After all, they were only dancing.
And then he shifted so that one of his knees drove between her legs, his thigh hitting just where her yearning was most concentrated. She gasped against him and dug her fingers into his shoulders as a shock of hot desire ripped through her.
Feeling rather than hearing a vibration in his chest, she dropped her head back to look up at him, trying to hear what he said. Another wave of arousal flooded her when she met the blaze of his eyes under their half-closed lids. The planes of his face were taut with tension, and his hold on her grew almost harsh as he shifted his thigh against her again. The friction sent her arching back against his hands.
His mouth came down on hers, his tongue stroking her lower lip in time with the music. The same rhythm was repeated in the thrust of his thigh between hers and the glide of his thumbs on her back.
She tried to change the angle of her hips to reduce the friction, but Luke gave her what she’d wished for. He moved his powerful hands down to grip her bottom and bring her in hard against his thigh. The extra pressure detonated the arousal that had been building inside her all day, her orgasm exploding in a blast of heat and sensation. She jerked and shuddered in his arms as the delicious shocks rolled through her, her groans swallowed by his mouth and the relentless sound of the music.
As the spasms subsided into tiny rippling quivers, she turned her head away from his kiss and buried her face against his chest in embarrassment, hoping he would mistake her climax for a new dance move. Pleasure still throbbed low inside her, and she wanted to fold up into a boneless heap on the floor.
Instead, she felt him moving them both toward the edge of the dance floor. She didn’t want to look him in the eye right now, so she kept her face plastered against his T-shirt and tried to slow their progress without being obvious about it. All too quickly, however, they were in the dimly lit hallway through which they’d entered the club.
Luke took her shoulders and peeled her away from his chest, so she straightened her spine and raised her eyes to his. If she’d thought his gaze was hot before, it had become positively blistering.