“We should definitely dance now,” Destiny declared, downing the rest of the daiquiri.
She hopped off of the barstool, swaying her hips to the music as she grinned at him and held out her hand. She watched as he quickly downed the shots and let her pull him off of the stool. She led the way into the swell of people with him on her heels. The dance floor was crowded and he pulled her to him so that she wouldn’t get bumped by the people who were entranced by the music. The alcohol was coursing through her bloodstream and she felt good—free, even. She loved New Orleans. Dancing with Brian reminded her of the countless times they’d gone clubbing whenever he’d visit while she was still in college.
She held her arms up, tilting her head back slightly as she swayed to the percussion that was beating a rhythm into her bloodstream. She opened her eyes and grinned. Brian could dance. Actually, Brian did pretty much everything he tried to do well.
He pulled her closer as their bodies moved in tune to the mid-tempo rhythm. She pressed into him, closing her eyes and intertwining her arms around his neck. He was pulling on her belt loops as he moved, his stubble gently scratching the side of her cheek. She turned in his arms, still moving in time to the steadily thumping baseline and reached up again, her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She could feel his breath warm against her ear, his fingers splayed across her lower abdomen as he kept her close.
In the back of her mind, somewhere beneath her alcohol haze, she questioned how close they were getting to crossing their carefully drawn friendship line. They’d danced together before, but this was something different. She was too aware of his hands on her, his breath warm against her face, his body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes, deciding not to over-analyze it, and just enjoy the moment for once.
His hand trailed from her abdomen to her hip, then back up and she leaned her head back, resting it on his shoulder. She could feel his nose nuzzling against the side of her neck and she sighed, automatically tilting it to the side, giving him better access. If Brian wanted to nuzzle his nose against her skin, he could—or his lips, because that’s what he was doing now.
They were warm and soft and trailing down to her collarbone. She arched back into him, because that was okay, too. His tongue flicked against her neck and she drew in a surprised breath. Then he kissed it and she moaned aloud, the noise lost somewhere in the sound of the music. She was melting against him as he pulled her tighter to him. Oh shit. He was kissing her neck. And she was letting him. She was more than letting him, she was melting into him, tilting her head back, drawing him closer to her with her hand on the back of his neck. Whoa. Shit.
She turned in his arms, and looked up at him, her breathing ragged. The room was teetering and she clutched at his shirt. He was staring down at her, his eyes hooded, his own breathing increased. Then his mouth was on hers. She didn’t know who had moved first, only that his tongue was in her mouth, melding with hers, setting her on fire. They were in the middle of a crowded dance floor, but she didn’t care. She’d never consciously thought about kissing him before, but he was so familiar. He tasted like mint and sunshine and she pressed herself closer to him, drinking him in.
But just as quickly as it started, he pulled his mouth from hers. His breathing was labored as he stared down at her, watching her chest heave in and out.
“We should probably go,” she said, shakily.
He nodded then shook his head, releasing a breath as he ran a hand over his head. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the exit.
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