I want him to move faster.
When he finally reaches me, I lick my dry lips and try to swallow. Sweat clings to his t-shirt, his face, his neck—but I’m the one who might melt. Thoughts of tasting the salt from his skin make my knees weak.
He searches my face. “You’re here.”
“I am.”
He lifts his hand as if to reach for me, but then lets it drop. “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect to see you.”
I shrug. All the words I planned to say disappear and I’m left with the wrong ones. “I wanted to hear you sing.”
He glances around the bar then back to me. “Are you alone?”
“No.” His expression falls and I’m quick to clarify. “I’m here with Avery and Troy. Troy surprised me by coming in tonight.”
His smile returns and he exhales, warm breath feathering across my cheek. A body comes out of nowhere and crashes into me, nearly spilling a drink all over my shirt. Vance grips my shoulders and pulls me close. Blue eyes full of everything I’ve missed blaze into mine. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
My mouth is unable to form an immediate response. The way he’s looking at me traps the words in my throat. “You… were… amazing out there.” I try not to stare at the wisps of hair wet against his forehead, his feverish skin, damp lips.
“Thanks. I—”
“Well, well.” Avery comes up behind him. “If it isn’t Vance Davenport.” He turns and Avery throws her arms around his neck, winking at me over his shoulder. She draws back after a minute. “You were hot shit up there.”
“Thanks.” Vance offers his hand to Troy. “Good to see you again, man.”
“Likewise.” Troy shakes it then lifts his drink. “You want to head to the bar? I’ll buy you a beer.”
Vance flicks his gaze to me, eyes roaming my face. “No thanks. I’m good right here.” Controlling my grin isn’t an option, so I don’t bother trying. Nor do I bother covering up the blush spreading over my cheeks like wildfire.
“Hey, Ember.” Chris appears beside Vance and slaps him on the shoulder. “N-nice to see you again.”
“You too.” I point a finger toward my partners in crime. “This is my sister, Avery, and my best friend, Troy. This is Chris.”
The rest of the band follows behind and after all the introductions are made, we head to a table. Vance sticks close to me as if he’s afraid I might disappear. Little does he know, I’m not going anywhere.
Conversation flows and laughter ensues, but I can barely concentrate on anything except Vance’s proximity. He’s dragged his chair closer, our shoulders practically touching now. The smell of sweat and soap, and everything I’ve missed about him bleeds into my space, and I find myself breathing him in until it makes me dizzy. Every now and then I can feel him watching me, his gaze warming the side of my cheek. It makes me want to lean into him, bury my head in that spot between his neck and his shoulder.
“Dance with me,” he murmurs against my ear, making me shiver. The reality that we’re here together sinking in.
“But you don’t dance,” I whisper back, teasing.
“For you, I’ll fucking dance.” He growls words that are full of fire, disarming me until I’m a puddle at his feet. Three years of hidden longing surfaces and I get up from the chair, taking his hand. I stare at the way our palms slide together, fingers entwined, remembering the first time he took my hand and held it. A smile explodes on my face as he leads me to the almost nonexistent dance floor. We’re Forgiven by The Calling plays through the speakers.
Our gazes collide and he has that same smile in his eyes that I’m wearing on my lips. Strong arms slip around my waist, my hands gliding up the rigid planes of his stomach to drape around his neck. My head rests against his firm chest, his heart beating steadily under my cheek. His scent and the warmth of his body engulfs me. I close my eyes and try to breathe, keenly aware of all the places we’re touching, of how connected we are. Even after all these years, we still fit like two pieces of a puzzle. Nothing feels forced about the way our bodies move together—the sway of our hips, the pace of our feet—and I’m floating.
“Ember,” he whispers against my ear. I’m afraid to look up at him, scared he’ll see everything—how much my heart has missed him, how much I want him. “Ember. Look at me,” he whispers again, and I blink my eyes open and lift my chin. His gaze is searing, cutting through all the things we haven’t said, all the time that’s passed. I can see it clearly in those eyes that captivated me from the moment I first stared into them—that nothing has changed for him either. He cups my cheek in the warmth of his palm. “Go out with me.”
“We are out,” I counter, my pulse racing too fast.
“On a date.” His mouth curves. “Go out on a date with me. You know you want to.” His grin widens and my fingers flex against his shirt with the desire to touch him; his hair, his jaw, his lips.
“Still so cocky.”
“Always.” His whole face brightens. “Is that a yes?”