Page 8 of Five Alarm Kiss

“Dance?” Laurel squeaked out.

Okay, it’d taken her longer than most to hit on him, but she’d finally gotten there. He grinned, and she visibly swallowed again.

She’s adorable.

“What was that?” he asked, touching his fingers to his ear. He’d heard what she’d said, but it was fun teasing her.

“Do you want to dance?” she repeated quickly, like she had to say it before she lost her nerve. “With me,” she added, apparently feeling the need to clarify.

He chuckled. “I gathered.”

She blinked a couple times, a worried expression tarnishing her angelic face. “Sorry. Never mind. It’s okay. You don’t ha?—”

“C’mon, Princess.” Jake stood and took her hand. “Dance with me.”

He led her onto the dance floor before she could utter another word. It was packed, but he managed to maneuver them to an open pocket by the winding staircase that led to the balcony. Even if he’d paid them off, the band’s timing in playing a slow song couldn’t have been better.

He pulled Laurel in and felt her tense in his arms. “Relax,” he instructed, dipping his head to bring his mouth closer to her ear, so she could hear over the music. The soft scent of baby powder teased his nostrils. “I don’t bite,” he said. “Unless you like that.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because she jerked back, her big, hazel eyes wide and unblinking. If his arm hadn’t been around her waist, he was certain she would’ve bolted.

“I’m kidding.” Okay, he wasn’t kidding. He’d been known to nibble on a neck, or—hell, he’d lost count of the number. “We’re just gonna dance.”

She tentatively peered up at him from underneath her ball cap.

Man, she’s tiny.

Her head barely reached his shoulder, and the innocent expression on her face immediately brought his protective instincts to the forefront. That fact surprised him. He didn’t evenknow her, yet felt certain he’d take out anyone who tried to hurt her.

“Promise,” he assured her. “Just dancing.”

She exhaled and gave a silent nod, allowing him to draw her closer. After they’d danced a while, she started to relax. One delicate hand was imprisoned in his, but she kept the other on his upper arm, preventing him from pulling her flush against his chest.

“So, what’s your story, Laurel?” he asked, and damned if he didn’t want to know. That was new. What was it about this girl that piqued his interest?

“What do you mean?” Her soft voice barely cut through the noise.

“You don’t seem like the bar type.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why not?”

Because you look like a virgin trapped at a swingers’ party, that’s why.

He pointedly glanced at her hat, then down at her sweater. It was bulky, but he could still make out the swell of her breasts. His groin tightened.

She followed his gaze downward. “You mean because I’m not dressed like a slut?”

The grin he’d been sporting turned into a full-blown smile when she pressed her lips together, as if she’d just realized she’d said the words out loud, but hadn’t meant to. She looked at his mouth, and the sudden urge to kiss her hit like a blast from an exploding building.

“Something like that,” he said, fighting to keep his lips off hers. “Plus, you seem uncomfortable.”

The disconcerted look that crossed her face was so fucking cute.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Laurel?” He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand.

“N-No.”

Yeah, I do.