Humiliation climbs, along with my rising flush, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I desperately want to be the kind of woman who has crazy nights at clubs with dangerous men who make them feel like they’re finally living for the moment.
But that’s not what prudes do.They go home and look at other people’s pictures on social media and wish they could live life so fully.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say this was a mistake. I’ve done my job. I should go.
But I can’t get the words out.
Legend moves closer and leans down to speak into my ear. “What’s wrong?”
His breath brushes over me, and the scent of male devastation overtakes my senses. Fresh, but spicy and earthy. Like citrus, bergamot, and cedar.
The woman I desperately want to be would be dancing with him. Her hands would be touching his body. The heat of him would bleed into her skin.
“I ... I just ...” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and the words that will get me off this dance floor won’t come.
Something knowing and concerned flashes across his blue gaze, but it’s gone before I can read it.
His hand curls around my hip. “It’s okay, Scarlett. I’ve got you.”
That’s when it happens.
Thirty-One
Legend
Irecognize fear and second thoughts when I see them, but there’s no fucking way I’m going to get this close to holding Scarlett Priest in my arms and not do it.
The faster her friends shed their inhibitions, the faster hers come flying back.
But I can make her forget about all the bullshit rattling around in her head that was probably put there by her piece-of-shit ex-boyfriend.And I will.
Like it was just yesterday that I did this last instead of well over a decade ago, my body moves to the beat, finding the rhythm. I don’t think about how bad of an idea this is anymore either.
I pull her against me, her hips to my thighs, my hands gripping her waist as I help her move. Instead of fighting me or bolting from the dance floor, she gives herself over to the music ... and me.
Wherever I lead, she follows.
Her friends dance around us, one of them close enough behind me that I can feel her movements. But I don’t care about anything but Scarlett.
It’s like she just needed the right person to wake her up and pry her out of her shell. Even if it is just a break from reality for a few minutes.
But how can I possibly be that person?I shouldn’t be. Even more, I shouldn’twantto be. But all signs point to yes. The most terrifying part? Iwantto be exactly who she needs right now.
As she relaxes, her movements become more fluid, like the music is flowing through her veins.
The girl she called Kelsey shimmies up beside her, and Scarlett matches her for a moment, but she doesn’t pull away from me. No, if anything, she comes closer. Her tits press against the top of my abs, and my dick jerks in my pants.
The pulsing warning sign forces me to pull back. I’m not a teenager letting a chick grind up on my dick until I’m ready to come in my slacks.
As I set her hips away from me, Scarlett’s smile dims a few watts, and I hate it.
Fuck. I’m not supposed to care this much about her smile or how bright it is.I’m also not supposed to be dancing with her, letting the cameras that are undoubtedly in the hands of other patrons snap photos or videos of us. They’ll plaster both our faces all over the internet because of the woman in my arms.
Moses will find me for sure.
My thought from earlier comes back.Maybe it’s time to deal with my ugly past—once and for all. Maybe then I’ll actually get my life back.
The one good thing about Moses popping into my head? It deflates the uncomfortable stiffness in my pants.