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“Is that your strategy with Channing?”
I frowned. He had a point. Not that I was about to admit it. Besides, it wasn’t like his strategy was working, either. But Lachlan seemed to realize his words had inflicted damage. He reached for my hand, but I snatched it back. The sharpness of my movement made my head spin, but I managed to stay upright.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Normally, I might have rewarded him for his first-ever apology. Likely the only in his lifetime. Instead, I decided to use his newfound guilt to my advantage. Ciara and I had gone dancing on Bourbon Street, but I hadn’t felt as free then, as safe as I did with him next to me.
“Make it up to me. Let’s dance.”
He bristled as his gaze swept the room, and I knew what he was seeing. There were a few couples dancing sporadically—if it could be called that. “Humping” was a more accurate description. Regardless, not everyone in the room was actively engaged in sex, and there was music. Since there was absolutely no way I was getting any tonight—by my choice—I needed to get some of my bottled-up energy out.
“Cate.” His voice was laced with warning.
I ignored it. “I’ve spent the night watching other people doing it, and I need to work through that physically.”
His lips twitched—the first sign that he wasn’t going to continue acting like a deranged grizzly bear. “Is that so?”
“It’s so,” I said firmly. I grabbed his lapels and yanked him to me. “Now shut up and dance with me.”
“Why were you hiding in a corner if you wanted to dance?” The question tiptoed along what I thought he really wanted to know: Had I been hiding or waiting?
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a real answer. Instead, I shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone I wanted to dance with.”
A smirk hooked his lips. “And you want to dance with me?”
Shit. I’d walked into that one. But I wasn’t about to be defeated by Lachlan or his little temper tantrum. I pressed my body closer to his, rolling my hips to the beat of the music. “I sensed my opportunities were drying up, since you seem intent on not having any fun at all.”
“I had business to attend to,” he said stiffly.
“The boring meetings and cigar smoke, right?”
“You didn’t answer me.” He pressed closer, and I hummed at how good it felt to have his hard body on mine, how easy it was to melt against it and let him anchor me. “Did you want to dance with me?”
It really wasn’t fair, because it was probably his sexy magic at work or the effects of their mysterious booze, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. I knew no matter what I said, he would see the truth in them. Lying would only be seen as weakness, and he already thought I was weak. He thought I needed protection. But tonight, I wanted to be a person I’d given up on a long time ago. And I was through with his insinuations. “I’m dancing with you now. Figure it out.”
“So imperious.” His lips tickled my ear again. Unlike before, they drifted over it a little, and I bit down on a moan. I knew he could feel the way my body responded to his. As if to prove me right, his fingers gripped my hips, sinking in so roughly that his nails scraped my skin through the tulle skirt. He dragged the tip of his nose along my jaw and whispered, “This isn’t a dress. It’s a sin.”
I frowned. “Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“If you wanted everyone in the room to spend the evening eye-fucking you, then no.”
Every clever retort dried up on my tongue.
“But you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath teasing my ear. I leaned into his dirty words, wanting more of them, wanting more contact. “Knowing that they would line up just to taste you.” This time, his tongue retraced the line of my jaw, and I found my face angling, waiting, anticipating for that mouth to find mine. When it didn’t, my eyes snapped open, and I scowled at him.
“You may continue.”
Amusement flickered in those glittering eyes. “Continue what?”
“The dirty talk.” Apparently, he needed me to spell it out for him. Why were men always so hopeless? “Proceed.”
His low chuckle was pure masculine swagger. I bit my lip, feeling his chuckle bolt straight to my core.
He shook his head. “I think you’ve had enough to drink and enough dirty talk.”
Before I could argue, the world swept out from underneath me. The effect was so dizzying, it took me a moment to process that I had been thrown over his shoulder. I pounded on his back as he carried me swiftly from the ballroom. More than a few people pivoted to watch us go.
“Put me down,” I demanded.