Jill Shalvis - Seduce Me

It was getting crowded, with people dancing in earnest now the music had started again. Everyone looked as if they knew exactly what they were doing as they gyrated and swayed on the floor.

Oh boy. Sam tugged on Jack's hair again and put her mouth back on his. With a soft, silky laugh, he obliged her for a long moment, until finally, dizzy, dazed with lust, she lifted her head for air.

"Are you really going to let me keep kissing you to avoid dancing?"

He was breathing heavily, too. "Oh, yeah."

Sam blew out a breath and looked at Jack. "Okay, truth," she told him. "I don't dance. In fact, I stink at it."

"But we were just doing it."

"That was slow dancing. And you did all the work."

He couldn't take his eyes off the woman who'd just rocked his world with a flash of both heaven and hell in one kiss-heaven, because she'd been soft and delicious; hell, because he suspected that was all he was going to get. How could a woman so self-possessed, so naturally sensual, not dance? "Come on, really?"

"Really."

He thought about that while the feel of her body against his sank into his brain. Her nipples were still hard, her arms tight around his neck, and she wasn't the only one affected. He wanted her with a surprising hunger. But when he had her-please God, he'd have her-it would be in a much more private location than this.

The next best thing to that would be another nice, long slow dance where she could writhe and arch against him, and he'd close his eyes and inhale her. But this song wasn't slow. "I'll help you."

"Jack-"

"Come on," he coaxed, moving to the beat. "It's not that difficult. First, you feel. Feel me, feel the music-hey, you have to at least try. Hang on, this song is ending- Oh, you lucked out," he said as the band ended the fast upbeat number and launched into an achingly slow love song. He pulled her just a little bit closer. "Mmmm, nice." His lips brushed against her ear, and suddenly it took all the willpower he had not to start kissing her again. "Better," he whispered, when she softened against him.

After a few moments, she let out along, slightly shaky sigh. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as an entirely different kind of tension gripped them. Swaying with him, eyes closed, he felt her smile against his shirt.

"I can't believe I'm liking this evening," she said.

"Me, too."

"A small part of me really was banking on you having that potbelly or bad breath, something awful."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I'm also sorry about the whole sneaking in here thing."

"Don't be." She shot him a wry smile. "Or then I'd have to be sorry about kissing you to avoid dancing."

"You didn't kiss me just to avoid dancing."

She stared at him. "No," she finally whispered. "I didn't."

"And you didn't let me touch you just to avoid dancing, either."

Another slow shake of her head. "No. I wanted both."

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her fingers played at the back of his neck, urging him closer, then closer still. It was all the encouragement he needed, and he dipped his head and kissed her. It sent hot licks of desire skittering down his spine. Locked in her arms, mouth against mouth, it was somehow easy to forget the press, the people, his sister, everything, lost as he was in the taste and feel of her.

She pulled away first, looking as shell-shocked as him. They made a couple of more turns on the dance floor, silent. Heather was out there with her date, and she waved at them.

"Did I mention I'm sorry about her, too?" Jack asked.

"Because she's overprotective? I think it's sweet."

"She's worried someone's going to take advantage of me, if you can imagine that happening."

"Only if you were willing," Sam said.

He laughed. "Willing… Do you want to take advantage of me, Sam?"

Oh, yeah, Sam did want to do just that. Now, please. But the truth was, she didn't know him well enough to sleep with him yet. "I haven't decided," she said as honestly as she could.

Eyes still on hers, his smile became a little subdued and he nodded slowly. "I wouldn't want to rush that decision."

Her body tightened, yearned. "Thank you," she said so politely he grinned broadly. The music changed again, and so did Jack's tempo. Faster and faster, he whirled her around the floor with dizzying speed.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked breathlessly when the song ended.

"My sister. In high school, if she couldn't get a date, she made me be her partner."

"Made you?"

"She spied on me for ammo, which she'd detail in a diary she kept locked up to use as blackmail when necessary. And, believe me, she found it necessary a lot. God, she loved holding stuff over my head."

"That sounds…" Sam searched for a word. "Horrible."

"Spoken like a woman who has no siblings?" he guessed.

"Not a one."

"How about your parents? Didn't you ever dance with them?"

She hesitated, never knowing what to say. She hated pity, and talking about her past always evoked that in others. Luckily, another couple bumped into them. The woman dripped diamonds and the man with her wore a dopey, infatuated grin. "Jack Knight," he said reverently. "Miss you, man."

"Thanks," Jack said.

"I must have an autograph for my son," the woman said. "After the dance?"

"No problem."

"I noticed you're not entirely a social pariah," Sam said when they were alone again-or as alone as they could get on a crowded dance floor.

"Nah, it's only the people who want something that bug me."

"That couple wanted something. Your autograph."

"Yeah, but an autograph, that's easy to give. It's when they want a piece of your soul that you've got to watch out. So," he said lightly, changing the subject on her like a champ. "Your parents. They never twirled you around the kitchen floor?"

Her father had been a professor at Pepperdine University, her mother an administrator in the offices there. They'd loved her, but they'd been incredibly devoted to their work, disciplined to long hours, with little time off for such things as dancing in the kitchen. "No twirling around the floor for us, I'm afraid."

"I think everyone should have memories of dancing in their pj's, slipping in their socks on the linoleum with their family."

"Mine weren't the dancing kind."

His easy smile faded. "Past tense?"

"They're both gone now. They have been for a long time."

People never knew what to say when she said that, and subsequently did one of two things-said they were sorry, or awkwardly changed the subject.

Jack did neither. "That's incredibly unfair."

"Yeah."

The song ended. People began to talk. Many looked their way. A few with cameras started walking toward them.

"Oh boy," Jack said.

A surge of protectiveness rose within Sam, which was silly. The guy could take care of himself, and yet she pointed to the long row of tables set up against one wall, piled with lavish amounts of food. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Food. People won't want to stare at you if you're eating. Unless… you don't by any chance eat with your mouth open…?"

He laughed. "Not usually."

"Okay, then."

They each took a plate. She eyed the salads and, saving herself for the big guns up ahead, spooned a small amount of fruit salad onto her plate.

"Tell me you're going to eat more than that."

"Oh, I'm going to eat much more." Farther down, she stabbed a nice sized steak, then helped herself to a roll and a huge heap of potatoes.

"Good." He piled his plate high, as well. "I might have had to throw you to the press as bait if you'd stuck with only fruit."