I went on. “You don’t really know any of these people, and they don’t know you, do they?” I ventured. “You felt obligated to attend tonight due to family pressure or maybe by your boss’s request.”
He watched me, a hint of something I couldn’t place in his eyes.
“You’re just waiting,” I continued, “trying to determine when you can politely abandon the uptight political conversations, bad food, and roomful of people you can’t stand.”
He leaned against the railing again, regarding me as he listened.
“You’re restless,” I stated. “There are other things you wish you could be doing right now, but you’re not sure you should or you’re not sure they’re things you can have.” I raised my eyes, meeting his.
He stared back in silence, and I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.
Of course, I’d been describing myself this whole time, but his gaze was locked on me, never breaking eye contact.
I moved closer to him, the February chill finally catching up with me.
“What will I do when I leave tonight?” he asked.
“You won’t leave alone,” I determined. “A man like you probably didn’t arrive alone.”
He cocked an eyebrow, challenging me, but he didn’t deny it.
I stared at him, waiting for his admission. Was he here with someone? Was he bold enough to come on to me with another woman around?
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attached.
“And you?” He reached out and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Who are you here with?”
I thought about my brother, who’d probably been calling me, since I’d felt my phone vibrate twice.
“Never mind,” he refuted. “I don’t want to know yet.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He looked up, focusing over my head out in the distance. “You distract me, and I like it. I’m having fun.”
Yeah, I was, too. For the first time all night.
Attendees laughed and danced inside, while the two of us, alone in the cold night with only a few other people lounging around the large balcony, carried on with our stolen moment.
“I should really get back, though,” I suggested, pulling away.
My brother was no doubt looking for me.
But he reached out and grabbed my hand, narrowing his eyes. “Not yet,” he urged, looking behind me toward the ballroom.
I stopped, not making a move to take away my hand.
He stood in front of me, his chest nearly touching mine.
“You’re right,” he whispered, his breath falling over me. “I don’t really like a lot of those people, and they don’t really know me.” His voice turned hoarse. “But I like you. I’m not ready to say good night yet.”
I swallowed, hearing the soft trickle of a slow jazz tune drifting out from the ballroom.
“Dance with me,” he commanded.
He didn’t wait for a response.
Sliding a hand around my waist, he guided me in, and I sucked in a sharp breath, my body meeting his for the first time.
Raising my arms, I put my right hand on his shoulder and my left hand in his as I let him lead me in a small circle, remaining in our own small, private space. Chills broke out down my arms, but I didn’t think he noticed.
I let my eyes fall closed for a moment, not understanding what made him feel so good. My hands tingled and my legs felt weak.
There was rarely ever a time when I felt drawn to a man. I’d felt attraction and passion, and I’d enjoyed sex, but I’d never opened myself up to someone long enough to connect.
Now I found myself not wanting this evening to end any way other than in his arms.
That’s where I wanted this to go. I didn’t need his name, what he did for a living, or his family history. I just wanted to be close to someone and feel good, and maybe that would be enough to satisfy me for the next few months until I needed someone again.
Shaking my head slightly, I tried to clear my thoughts.
Enough, Easton. He was good-looking and interesting, but I didn’t see anything in him that I hadn’t seen in any other man.
He wasn’t special.
Looking up, I asked, “You’re not enjoying the party, so what would you rather be doing right now?”
He shot me a small, sexy smile. “I like what I’m doing right now.”
I rolled my eyes, covering up how much I also liked him holding me close. “I mean, if not this?”
He twisted his lips, looking me over like he was thinking. “I’d be working, I guess,” he answered. “I work a lot.”
So he’d rather be doing work than schmoozing and drinking at a Mardi Gras ball? I dipped my head, breaking out in a laugh.
“What?” He pinched his eyebrows together.
I met his eyes, seeing the confusion. “You prefer work,” I stated. “I can relate to that.”
He nodded. “My work challenges me, but it’s also predictable. I like that,” he admitted. “I don’t like surprises.”
I instantly slowed, nearly stopping our dance.
I said the same thing all the time. I never liked surprises.
“Everything else outside of work is unpredictable,” I added for him. “It’s hard to control.”
He cocked his head and brought his hand up to my face, running his thumb along my cheek.
“Yeah,” he mused, leaning in while his hand circled the back of my neck possessively. “But there are times,” he said softly, “when I like to lose control.”