Page 33 of A Stop in Time
I give it ten minutes tops before they’re full-on sucking face and practically dry-humping on the dance floor and Benny has to holler for them to get a room.
But that’s not the point. Daniel elicits a strange reaction from me as it is, so I know it’s not the least bit wise to willingly touch him.
“It’s easy.” Green eyes sweep over my features with a calculated look. “You can keep it simple if you just plant your feet and sway from side to side.”
My hackles rise defensively. “I didn’t say I couldn’t dance. I said I don’t dance.”
Timmy, who obviously broke the seal since he’s already on a return trip to the bathroom, pipes up as he passes by. “Dance with the man, Mac,” he urges.
Stopping abruptly, he waves a hand in Daniel’s direction. “Drug dealers don’t got a long life-expectancy, so it could be his last dance.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.I cover my face with my hands and let out a groan.
Voice like velvet-wrapped steel, Daniel’s words hold a trace of humor. “You heard the man. Wouldn’t want me to die without the experience of dancin’ with you, would you?”
Dropping my hands, I shoot him a withering look, my tone flat. “The odds are not in your favor.”
“C’mon, Mac,” Timmy protests. “Dance with the man.” Features suddenly going stern, he turns sharp eyes on Daniel and wags a finger at him like one might a small child. “But no hanky-panky.”
What is it with these men tonight? All of a sudden, I have overprotective father-wannabes?
He matches Timmy’s look head-on. “She’s safe with me.”
That’s all he says. But it doesn’t escape my notice that he didn’t specifically agree to the “no hanky-panky” part.
Daniel’s gaze veers to mine, dark ruthlessness infused with sensuality swirling in the depths. I wonder if he’s even aware of the magnetic pull he has on me.
“Well, then. Go on.” Timmy urges me with a motion of his hand before edging away toward the bathroom. “Dance with the man.” Evidently pleased with exerting his influence, he strides away to relieve himself.
Daniel’s large palm is extended to me, and I eye it suspiciously. “Dance with me, Mac.” His eyes flash with challenge. “Unless you’re too scared.”
I lift my chin a notch in defiance. “You’re starting to piss me off, Danny.”
Lines bracket each side of his mouth, illustrating his displeasure at my use of the nickname. “It’s Daniel. And likewise.”
I slap my palm in his, parting my lips to spout off another biting remark. But the instant our hands touch, I’m startled by a snap of electricity and pull back in surprise.
A crease forms between his brows as his eyes volley between his hand and mine. “Shit. That was some serious static electricity.”
I massage my palm. “No kidding.”
“Let’s try that again.”
He extends his hand to me, and I regard it warily. This time, I slowly ease my palm closer to his. Those tiny hairs on my arms stand on end the closer I get, and the air seems to crackle between us. Once I settle my hand in his, the lights in the bar flicker and the song currently playing on the jukebox skips.
It must be some electrical surge or something.
Daniel leads me to the dance floor, pulling me close and keeping hold of one hand while resting the other at my hip. My free hand gravitates to his shoulder that’s undeniably strong and muscled beneath the fabric of his shirt.
Being this close to him has me off-kilter and leaves me feeling as though I’ve touched a live wire and been infused with an electrical current.
More than that, though, is the oddest sensation of familiarity in his touch. It’s as though I somehow know him on a deeper level.
He lowers his head, his stubbled jaw raking a path from my temple to my ear as he brings his mouth to it, and a shiver travels through me. I wonder if he feels this, too, or if it’s all one sided. I wonder–
“Did you know or ever meet a woman named Emilia?”
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