The dance floor was crowded. A drunk woman toppled, and before recapturing her balance, fell against Nathan’s back. The contact forced him into Selina.
She welcomed his chest against her back. The arms that had been dancing in the air above her head fell behind her to land on either side of his face. Her fingertips brushed against his ears before they dropped and ran down his arms. Her hands found his, and she picked his up and placed them at her waist.
It didn’t take long for them to find a rhythm that was theirs. Nathan’s nose nuzzled just below Selina’s ear. He breathed her in, smelling the intimate scent of her flesh there. Selina embedded her fingers into his, forcing his palms to run over her hips and her belly. She led his hands to the tiny gap of hot, smooth skin left exposed between her pants and her shirt.
The way she moved against him, and the way he moved against her, had created a slow, burning ache inside him. The scent of her drove a heady rush to his brain. It felt a little like being drunk, but on her—not on the sangria. She guided his hands over the slight curves of her body, bringing them just under the rise of her breasts and then down again over her jeans.
The smooth circling of her hips against his had him feeling his arousal in every part of him. His hands itched to go farther. Instead of just sliding over the itching fabric of her shirt, he wanted to be going up and under it. Instead of his hands riding over the faded denim of her pants, he wished they were sliding beneath her waistband.
Nathan let a slow moan slip from his lips and land against the smooth, honeyed skin of her neck. He figured the club to be loud enough that he could get away with it.
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