Page 16 of The Perfect Wrong

He makes me want in a way I’ve never wanted anyone before.

By the time he kisses me again, stealing my breath, I’m dying to feel his mouth crushing mine and never letting up. I’m aching to feel those lips all over me with the same wicked confidence as his hands on my hips.

If he’s thunder, I want to be his whole damn sky.

I want him to fill me.

His hands are everywhere now—just enough to tease, but never lingering to tear at my clothes.

Something I wish he’d do until I remember we’re still messing around in the open.

Oops.

I’m glad I stopped drinking when I did—one more round would’ve knocked me on my butt for sure with his dance moves.

Ditto for the swarming butterflies he’s stirring up from head to toe.

I’m far more drunk on adrenaline, on the fire coursing through my blood, on the red, red lust plucking every nerve until I vibrate with admiration, wanton desire, ruthless excitement.

Obsession, or at least the start of it.

Crazy need.

We dance on for what feels like ten minutes, but it could be hours. I’m breathless by the end, wiping a pleasant sweat off my forehead.

On my last spin, his hands sweep across my ass, grabbing it hard and pulling me into him.

Oh, this is it...

My teeth dig into my bottom lip.

My legs part automatically.

I’m only against him for a second, running my hands slowly down his chest, but I feel the hard, rough promise below his belt.

His bulge pushes against my belly insistently.

The invitation there makes my whole body numb with white-hot pleasure.

I’m dizzy as he finally stops moving and settles us in the sand for good, still holding me close, both of us breathing like we might fall over.

A sharp clapping noise makes me jerk up.

I look around and realize it’s a couple drunken party people applauding us. A smiling couple sits at the bar, watching intently.

Yikes.

I’m about to keel over from embarrassment when I look at him and—

He can’t be serious.

Oh, but he is.

Chris sweeps a low, exaggerated bow like some regency hero man, brushing it off like it’s nothing.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take them more than a second to return to their private fun.

“Holy shit, Chris. Where did you learn to dothat?” I’m still winded, my lungs fighting to replenish precious air.