But not my guy.
“Alcohol doesn’t make me a better artist, especially if I combine it with anxiety,” Grayson insists.
Bass throbs through the speakers around Club Mera, a constant throb I feel in my bones. My wolf perks up at the change of energy in the air and then soothes again with Grayson’s smile.
“I know you want to dance,” he says.
“You want to show off your own moves. You aren’t fooling anyone.”
He has fantastic moves, if I do say so myself. Now that I’ve gotten to see them in action, I understand what made him so powerful on the football field. Despite his size, Grayson is light on his feet.
Confidence lights his limbs no matter what he’s doing, whether it’s running or dancing or?—
My cheeks blush.
He drags me close until I settle against his chest with his leg nestling between mine and notching us together. “My moves are only as good as my partner and you know it. I happen to have the best one.”
The blush steals down my neck stays there.
The music is right and our bodies flow together like they were made for each other.
In a way, they are.
I grab Grayson by the neck, my arms loose and our heartbeats match time with each other and the bass.
A year ago, none of this would have seemed possible.
It was a different life and a different me, so far removed from the person I am now that they’re beyond comparison.
I’d been shackled to a life built on duty and survival and sacrifice instead of real happiness. Judging from the expression on Grayson’s face, he is having similar thoughts.
He grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth, brushing his lips against my knuckles. I sink into the sensation of the kiss.
When his lips press to mine, I melt.
His grin pulls wide.
Last year it would have been so unexpected my heart would have stuttered.
His posture is softer now, easier and less rigid. No more slumping or tensing or waiting for the worst to happen.
“You look fantastic tonight, baby.”
I love it when he calls me pet names. I love how warm it makes me feel and how it emboldens me to do whatever I want, to be whoever I want.
I pull my hand free and reach for him, brushing it across the jut of his chin and up to his hair. The strands are soft, long enough on top to curl, and feel like velvet on the shaved sides.
His pupils blow wide. “You want to put on a show on the dance floor, keep doing what you’re doing,” he says, low enough for only me to make out.
I glance around the room at the hundreds of other people here to see the band play later and sigh, forcing myself to calm. Urging my wolf to stay in her place before wedomake a scene.
Just being near Grayson does it to me. The pulse between my legs is undeniable and when I glance up to meet his eyes, his smile is wicked.
I rise on the tips of my toes to kiss him. His expression shutters and his lips move against mine, just a man and a woman enjoying a night out.
Desired. Happy.
I almost wish I could keep kissing him and damn the consequences, but I know where it leads and if we get too rowdy, the vamps will have something to say about it.