Promise to Love You (Wild to Love #5) by J. Saman



She’s referring to the private floor, and all I can do is shake my head. The women on the private floor do nothing for me. They’re all the same. Not an ounce of real outside or in between any of them. They’re agenda-driven. They see money and fame and zero in.

I can’t stand any of them. Not even for a night.

“Are you down here alone?” she pushes, peeking around me once more.

“Looking for someone else?”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “Not when you’re the one I’ve always wanted. I’m just making sure we won’t be interrupted by anyone we wouldn’t want to find us.”

“We won’t be.”

“Well then,” she murmurs, her smile growing. “In that case, sure. I’d love a dance in the dark with a stranger like you.” She snakes her arms around my neck, her fingers boldly coiling into the strands at my nape. Yet her eyes are guarded, her movements hesitant, almost as if she’s waiting for me to push her away. “Is it off-putting if I say I’ve always dreamed of this but never in a million years imaged it would happen?”

“With me?”

“Yes.” She laughs the word like I’m crazy for asking. “With you, Henry Gauthier. Though I think you already knew that.”

“You’re beautiful. Any man would be lucky to dance with you. Many before me have tried.”

Her arms fly up above her head, her head tilting back as her eyes fall closed, moving with me to the heavy house beat. I lied just now when I told her she’s beautiful. She’s so much more than that. And looking at her like this, in my arms, she’s robbing me of my ability to breathe. The temptation to throw caution to the wind and kiss her here, run my hands all over her body, reach up under her short dress and make her come with hundreds of people around us is so compelling I have to bite my lip to staunch the tenacious need.

“Other men have tried. But I haven’t wanted any of them.”

“Why’s that?”

An impish grin curls up the corners of her lips. “Because they’re not you, are they?”

Her body plunges backward, forcing me to dip her, trusting I won’t drop her. Fingertips scrape the floor before she rights herself, her eyes glowing, her cheeks bright, and her lips parted with her breathy laugh.

“That was fun. Do you have moves, Henry? So far I’m doing all the leading.”

“I approached you.”

“That doesn’t make you special.”

Fuck. I like this one.

The nerves she had when I first approached her are gone. Now she’s a siren. A sexy, confident force of nature. Wild, sinful trouble I want to drown myself in.

“It makes me the one you said yes to.”

But the more I study her face, the more something familiar niggles at the darkest recesses of my mind. I can’t place it. I feel like I know her somehow, yet I’m nearly positive I’ve never met this woman before.

Or maybe it’s just that I’m more drawn to her than any woman I’ve encountered lately.

She hikes up on her toes, her body seductively pressing into mine. The scent of her skin and hair hit me hard. Something light and soft and irresistible. Something that makes me want to lick every perfect inch of her.

“What exactly do you think I’m saying yes to?” she whispers in my ear.

“Me. Now. Here. Tonight.”

Her breath hitches as my tongue sneaks out, swiping at the line of her jaw. My hand glides up her thigh, my thumb dipping into the softness of her inner thigh. Those pretty blues grow impossibly dark with a hunger that matches my own.

“Tell me no right now or this is happening.”

“I want this to happen. Now. Here. Tonight.”

“That’s all it will be,” I warn.

“I know.” I don’t miss the touch of sadness in her tone. The hint of longing. But her gaze is unwavering as it holds mine.

“You sure?” I ask, studying her.

“Yes. I understand why it’s only tonight, and even though one night isn’t my style; I’ve wanted you for too long to ever say no.”

Taking her hand, I intertwine our fingers, dragging her through the crowded club to the dark alcove I already scoped out. I never kiss women in public. Sure as hell never touch them in a way I wouldn’t be okay with being photographed.

I spin her behind the black curtain that separates the main part of the club from an emergency exit, press her into the wall, cup her face in my hands, and crash my lips to hers. She responds instantly, her hands gripping my triceps, hauling me infinitely closer. Demanding full contact. Our lips move frantically, our tongues seeking, playing, dancing.