“The nightclub?” Her eyes widen.
I nod. “Do you like to dance?” Not my favorite thing to do, but for the chance to be close to Saige, I’ll do it.
She makes a cute but unsure face. “Not really. I need a lot of these,” she holds up her drink, “before I feel comfortable enough to dance.”
I beam at her. “Well, drink up. We’re going dancing.”
Saige
As we enter the hot and humid nightclub, Holt reaches for my hand and laces his fingers between mine. My heart thrums nervously as he squeezes my hand in his. Dance music blares from the speakers, feeling the heavy beat of the bass thumping up my legs as we weave through the crowd. Holt leads us to a section in the back where he nods and a large man steps aside, then we take a small flight of stairs up to an area that sits about six feet above the rest of the club.
I should have known we’d be headed to the VIP lounge. Professionally dressed security stand around the perimeter of the VIP area, but do a good job of blending in with the crowd. We step into the private area full of leather seats, couches, and oversized tables to a table marked “Reserved” with Holt’s name on the placard. I’m underdressed and immediately feel self-conscious as the women parading through this area are dressed in dresses that are too short, heels that are too high, and are wearing makeup that is too much work to even bother with—but they are gorgeous.
A waitress immediately appears, and Holt leans in close to her ear, giving her orders. She nods and disappears as fast as she appeared, her ass shimmying from side to side with each step in her thigh-high heeled boots. I turn my attention to the crowd below and watch the sea of bodies dance and sway to the beat of the music.
“This place is crazy!” I tell Holt, leaning in much too close to him. With the music as loud as it is, I have to practically press my lips to his ear for him to hear me.
“It is,” he says back in agreement.
Our cheeks touch and I pull away, turning back around to watch the crowd again. A minute later, Holt hands me an extra dirty martini and I smile at him. Service is quick here, and then I remember we are in the VIP lounge. There’s a glass on the table with extra olives, and he picks one out of the cup and tosses it into his mouth. I squeeze my thighs together tightly as I watch his full lips press together and then part when he smiles at me. Everything about this man is beautiful. He removes his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, like he did last night, then he unbuttons the top button of his shirt just enough where I can see the tan skin above his collarbone.
He sips on his whiskey, his fingers gripping the glass. Finally, he sets it down on the table in front of us and takes my glass from my hands and sets it next to his. “Come on. I want to dance with you,” he breathes into my ear, pulling me up from the couch.
I shake my head at him. I’m not ready yet, but he nods at me in defiance. Bossy.
“I’m not ready to dance yet,” I tell him. My nerves have peaked. Holt is nothing like I expected. He’s humble and sweet, yet direct and bold.
“I am.” He tugs me forward gently. I can see Holt is used to getting his way. I oblige. He’s so demanding.
He laces his fingers through mine again as he pulls me through the crowd and onto the small dance floor. Squeezing my hand tighter, he looks over his shoulder at me and gestures to a spot on the dance floor. We find our way to the center where bodies are colliding. Lights move across the sea of bodies as everyone moves to the beat of the music. With a couple of drinks in me, my nerves finally settle and confidence takes hold. Holt stops and pulls me to him, settling his hands on my hips. I move my hips slowly, finally finding a rhythm that matches his. How Deep is Your Love pumps through the speakers, and Holt tightens his grip on my hips as we move together. My body reacts to his touch in ways I never expected. My heart beats wildly, my nipples pucker, and warmth spreads from my legs up to my center.
There are people all around us dancing, but right now, it feels like it’s just Holt and me on this dance floor. His blue eyes carry an intensity that makes my stomach dance with butterflies. He pulls me closer so we’re chest to chest, and his arm snakes around my waist. His fingers press into my side, his grip tightening as our hips continue moving in sync like we’ve danced this way a million times.
Our faces come together, and his nose brushes against the side of mine. Resting my cheek against his, I feel the heat from our bodies envelop us and I wrap my arms around him. The music is upbeat, but our movements are slow, methodical, rhythmic.