Yep, passion. With a capital P and everything. She was twenty-seven years old, and not once had she experienced anything remotely close to the elusive P. Granted, that was probably because she only dated nice, wholesome guys like AJ. She couldn’t deny that her as-of-yesterday ex was smoking hot, but passionate? Not so much.
On the bright side, at least she didn’t have to worry that she’d broken his heart. Despite what his aggravating best friend thought, their breakup really had been mutual.
After more than five months of dating, the two of them could no longer ignore the depressing truth: they were great friends, but terrible lovers.
Darcy had hoped the initial spark between them would eventually ignite into a fiery affair for the ages, but sadly, it had fizzled out faster than a candle in a hurricane. And now, thanks to Reed Miller, her quest for a wild night of passion was equally unattainable.
She swept her gaze over his face, ticked off by how good-looking he was. Actually, correction: he was gorgeous. Like be-still-my-heart-and-rip-my-panties-off gorgeous. He had close-cropped black hair and piercing blue eyes, and his features were more rugged than pretty, starkly masculine and incredibly appealing.
And south of the border? Holy moly. He was shredded like lettuce, hard muscles and long limbs and a tight ass you could bounce quarters off.
“Stall as long as you want. I ain’t going anywhere, Darce.”
His deep, razor-sharp voice snapped her from her inappropriate ogling. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice she’d been checking him out. His expression displayed a cloud of displeasure mingled with steely determination, leaving no doubt as to how serious he was about cock-blocking her tonight.
Or was it vagina-blocking for girls? She wasn’t sure.
“You’re being totally unreasonable,” she said, raising her voice over the music. “I’m not seeing AJ anymore, which means it’s not considered cheating if I happen to meet someone I like.”
“Don’t care. Won’t be happening on my watch.”
God. He wasn’t going to back down.
Cut your losses, girl. You’re not the one-night-stand type, anyway.
The defeated voice in her head was spot on. Hopping into bed with strangers wasn’t something she indulged in very often. Or ever.
Darcy stifled a sigh. Maybe this had been a mistake from the start. A stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision brought on by her breakup with AJ, which, in all honesty, had seriously bummed her out. Not because she’d lost the love of her life or anything, but because their relationship had been so lacking it only highlighted everything she’d been missing. Everything she craved.
Fun. Laughter. Excitement.
Passion.
Yep, full circle, right back to passion.
“C’mon, quit being a brat.”
She felt herself being tugged, blinking to find Reed’s fingers curled over her forearm. His hand was big and warm, and utterly impersonal as he guided her to the dance floor.
Darcy swallowed her anger as they maneuvered through the crowd. Fine, if he wanted to act like a macho jerk and be her shadow, then she’d let him. Clearly passion wasn’t on the table anymore, but fun and dancing were still up for grabs, and she might as well get something out of this botched evening. Though maybe just the dancing part. After all, fun and Reed Miller didn’t exactly go together.
The sultry beat pounding out of the DJ’s turntables immediately snaked its way into Darcy’s blood, and her body responded of its own volition. AJ had hated to dance. Poor guy had no moves, either, but his best friend didn’t seem to share that affliction.
To her surprise, Reed wasted no time yanking her toward him. He rested one hand on her hip and began to dance to the pulsing, decadent rhythm as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
His head dipped to her ear, his warm breath fanning over her neck. “Why is your dress so short?” he rasped.
She stiffened at his disapproving tone, glancing down at the silky green dress that nearly reached her knees. “It’s not that short. Look around us—half these girls are practically naked.”
“Half these girls aren’t you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
Rather than answer, he brought his other hand into play, running it up and down her back as his hips rotated in a slow, addictive rhythm.
Oh boy. He smelled fantastic. Sandalwood, citrus, and something uniquely male flooded her nostrils, giving her a bit of a head rush. And his chest was rock-hard beneath her palms—she wanted so badly to stroke it that she had to redirect her hands to his shoulders in an attempt to quell the temptation. Except his shoulders were equally enticing, big and broad and rippling with power.
AJ was built the same lean, muscular way—she knew it had everything to do with the fact that both men had once been professional fighters—but even though she’d slept with AJ many, many times, her hands had never itched to explore every hard, sinewy inch of his body the way they itched now.
Reed’s palm grazed her hipbone at the same time he thrust a thigh between her legs, turning the dance from vaguely sensual to downright erotic. Heat unfurled in Darcy’s belly and tingled in her sex, triggering a jolt of shock.
Holy crap. She was dirty dancing with AJ’s best friend.