“You said they like me, right?” Her head dropped back as she gazed up at him, and he realized by her dreamy expression that she was more inebriated than he’d expected. She hadn’t had that much to drink, but she also didn’t weigh a lot, and, suddenly, the alcohol seemed to be hitting her hard. “I told you I’m not stuck up,” she said. “I’m a nice person.”
“A nice person who’s had enough to drink.” He fought the impulse to bring her closer, if only to offer her some support. She was no longer all that steady on her feet. But he made sure they had at least six inches of space between them, in spite of that. “I’m going to have Shorty cut you off.”
“Why? I’m not drunk.”
“You are definitely drunk.”
“Maybe I am,” she conceded. “But at least I’m more sus-susceptible.”
“Susceptible to what?” he asked wryly.
She giggled, which was something else he’d never expected to come out of such a sophisticated woman. “That wasn’t what I meant to say. I mean...ax...ac-ces-ses-si-ble.”
Even when she found the right word she couldn’t say it in her current state. “True. You might be more susceptible, too, but I’m keeping an eye out like I promised,” he teased.
Ken flipped him off from a place at the edge of the dance floor where Evelyn wouldn’t be able to see him. Amarok offered him a benign smile. Then he glanced down to check on his partner again. He thought she might be growing anxious; they were dancing much closer than before.
But she didn’t seem anxious so much as...preoccupied with... his neck? “What are you looking at?” he asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “That spot right there beneath your jaw.”
“Why?”
“It looks delicious.”
He stiffened in surprise. Personally, he preferred lips to necks and couldn’t help wishing she’d take more of an interest in his. But a neck was about as nonthreatening as a body part could be, so he could understand why she might feel safer admiring an area that couldn’t demonstrate any desire.
“That’s the booze talking,” he said.
“No, it’s not.” She slanted a flirty gaze up at him. “Even a sober woman would want to taste all that smooth, warm skin, Sergeant.”
He told himself to leave that comment right there. She couldn’t mean what she’d just said. But then she closed her eyes and ran her nose up under his ear. “And you smell good too.”
Amarok’s plan to get her to loosen up had worked a little too well. Not only had the alcohol relaxed her, it’d stolen her inhibitions. The buffer of space between them had all but disappeared, to the point that he could feel her breasts smashed up against his chest. They weren’t dancing any closer than anyone else, but it felt more provocative—maybe because he knew it was rare that she’d even let a man hold her.
Fortunately for his peace of mind, the song was ending. He figured they’d better sit down as soon as possible, before he had a raging hard on. But she didn’t let go of him. She kept her arms locked around his neck and continued to sway against him as if she still heard the music in her head.
She was in her own little world, and yet he could tell she was very aware that he was there with her, especially when he felt her lips brush over that spot under his jaw that had become such a fascination for her. He tried to convince himself that she’d just been turning her head. But he was glad he’d maneuvered them into the shadows, where Ken and the others could no longer see them so clearly when she proved him wrong about that contact being incidental and began kissing his neck in earnest.
The movement of her tongue, and the wetness of it, turned Amarok’s heart into a jackhammer. His natural inclination was to palm the back of her head while he nuzzled her neck in return. But he was afraid if he made any move it would spook the hell out her. So he closed his eyes and let her have her fun. After what she’d been through, she deserved to be able to act on the desire she felt. But she evoked such a powerful response in him, it wasn’t easy to resist the temptation to show her that a man’s touch didn’t have to hurt.
He almost slid his hands up her back before he gained control and ordered them to remain at her waist. If he gave her the chance, maybe she’d feel safe enough to invite him to participate, to get him involved. Surely, at some point, even she’d have to admit that it would be more fun...
But the movement of her mouth on his neck was making him rock hard—and he hated to think what would happen if a woman who’d been raped, and at such a young age, felt a boner pressed up against her abdomen. He didn’t want her to feel intimidated, rushed or overwhelmed; he hadn’t even had a chance to jump in yet. So he put some space between them—but that was all it took to break the spell.
Dropping her hands, she stepped back, as if he’d shoved her away instead of adjusting their respective positions by only a few inches.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking completely abashed. “I can’t believe I did that. I swear I...I thought I was only thinking about tasting your neck. I never dreamed I’d really do it.”