“Don’t care. Won’t be happening on my watch.”
God. He wasn’t going to back down.
Cut your losses, girl. You’re not the one-night-stand type, anyway.
The defeated voice in her head was spot on. Hopping into bed with strangers wasn’t something she indulged in very often. Or ever.
Darcy stifled a sigh. Maybe this had been a mistake from the start. A stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision brought on by her break-up with AJ, which, in all honesty, had seriously bummed her out. Not because she’d lost the love of her life or anything, but because their relationship had been so lacking it only highlighted everything she’d been missing. Everything she craved.
Fun. Laughter. Excitement.
Passion.
Yep, full circle, right back to passion.
“C’mon, quit being a brat.”
She felt herself being tugged, blinking to find Reed’s fingers curled over her forearm. His hand was big and warm, and utterly impersonal as he guided her to the dance floor.
Darcy swallowed her anger as they maneuvered through the crowd. Fine, if he wanted to act like a macho jerk and be her shadow, then she’d let him. Clearly passion wasn’t on the table anymore, but fun and dancing were still up for grabs, and she might as well get something out of this botched evening. Though maybe just the dancing part. After all, fun and Reed Miller didn’t exactly go together.
The sultry beat pounding out of the DJ’s turntables immediately snaked its way into Darcy’s blood, and her body responded of its own volition. AJ had hated to dance. Poor guy had no moves, either, but his best friend didn’t seem to share that affliction.
To her surprise, Reed wasted no time yanking her toward him. He rested one hand on her hip and began to dance to the pulsing, decadent rhythm as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
His head dipped to her ear, his warm breath fanning over her neck. “Why is your dress so short?” he rasped.
She stiffened at his disapproving tone, glancing down at the silky green dress that nearly reached her knees. “It’s not that short. Look around us—half these girls are practically naked.”
“Half these girls aren’t you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
Rather than answer, he brought his other hand into play, running it up and down her back as his hips rotated in a slow, addictive rhythm.
Oh boy. He smelled fantastic. Sandalwood, citrus, and something uniquely male flooded her nostrils, giving her a bit of a head rush. And his chest was rock-hard beneath her palms—she wanted so badly to stroke it that she had to redirect her hands to his shoulders in an attempt to quell the temptation. Except his shoulders were equally enticing, big and broad and rippling with power.
AJ was built the same lean, muscular way—she knew it had everything to do with the fact that both men had once been professional fighters—but even though she’d slept with AJ many, many times, her hands had never itched to explore every hard, sinewy inch of his body the way they itched now.
Reed’s palm grazed her hipbone at the same time he thrust a thigh between her legs, turning the dance from vaguely sensual to downright erotic. Heat unfurled in Darcy’s belly and tingled in her sex, triggering a jolt of shock.
Holy crap. She was dirty dancing with AJ’s best friend.
And it was turning her on.
No, wait, that was nuts. She couldn’t actually be turned on. The sweltering air and the two shooters she’d drunk must be to blame, because there was no way Reed the Jerk Miller was getting her motor running.
When she felt his gaze on her, she tipped her head and was floored by what she found. Blue eyes burning with…jeez, was that desire?
Anger?
Defeat?
It sure as hell looked like all three, but only the anger part made any sort of sense. Reed always seemed pissed off when she was around, which was actually kind of insulting since she prided herself on being a very likable person.
“How long are we going to keep doing this?” he said in a strangled voice.
She frowned. “Doing what?”
“Dancing.” Sounding even more tormented, he eased away so their lower bodies were no longer touching, but kept his hands on her hips.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he’d inched back so she wouldn’t feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into her belly.
But of course Reed wasn’t sporting a stiffy in her presence. The only response she’d ever evoked in him was visible irritation and mild indifference.
The memory of his past behavior was like a splash of cold water to the face, propelling her to release his shoulders and take a hasty step back.
What the hell were they doing, grinding to the music like two people who were actually into each other? They weren’t even friends.
“You’re the one who forced me on the dance floor,” she snapped at him. “And you’re the one who decided not to let me have fun tonight, remember? So if you don’t want to dance with me, then don’t. Frankly, I’m not interested, either.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and flounced off, but she should’ve known better than to think he wouldn’t follow her. He did, hot on her heels as she pushed her way through the crowd toward the exit.
“Darcy—”
“Go away, Reed. You win, okay? You’ve officially ruined my night and put me in a shitty mood, so now I’m going home just like you wanted. Congratulations.”
Shooting him one last glare, she spun on her heel and marched out the door.