They both stepped out of the car and headed toward the entrance of the bar. Even in her heeled slippers, her head barely reached his collarbone, which made her shorter than the women he usually dated. At six foot four, and with a muscular physique, he generally preferred women who didn’t make him feel like a giant. But while the size disparity had concerned him before, now he found it a turn-on too.
—------------------------
…’It’s not a date…It’s not a date…You are not on a date’
Maybe if she kept repeating it, she might remember it….Bonnie kept telling herself that.
Because David’s jerk credentials had become harder and harder to remember through supper, every time he smiled at her with desire darkening his gaze; every time he offered her a taste from his plate like the Pied Piper of seduction; every time he murmured some wry observation and made her laugh; every time he made her heart thunder, or her pulse race or the hot sweet spot between her thighs throb.
David might be a jerk sometimes, but he was also a super-hot and super-charismatic jerk—and now he was giving her his undivided attention, he was also super addictive.
He took a sip of his drink and met her gaze. "Think you're ready to dance?"
Bonnie's eyes widened.
He held out his arm. "Come on. Let's do it." he said before she could say anything.
She linked her own arm with his, praying her trembling wouldn't spill her drink all over the floor. They headed toward the sound of live music and the murmur of a great many voices. She sipped her martini a little too quickly, but dammit, she needed the courage.
They moved to the dance floor and he positioned himself in front of her, his shoulders so broad and strong all she could see was him. David grabbed her hand and swung her into his arms. They touched from chest to thighs, but by the time she opened her mouth to tell him she didn't really like to dance, they were.
Threading his fingers through hers, he lifted her right hand into position as the song began, then wrapped his other arm around her waist to draw her into his big body. His hand on the small of her back steered her with gentle caresses. Moving with incredible grace, he made it seem so easy. When she didn't step on his feet after the refrain, she relaxed. As much as she could, that is.
Sensation shot up her spine, as his large palm rested on the small of her back, above the low-cut gown. The gown she’d spent minutes to pick out.
No man had ever been aware of her every breath and blush and heartbeat with the same raptor-like focus. No man had ever spoken to her with such respect for her intellect while also relishing, even encouraging, her attempts to outrage him. No man had ever enjoyed her company the way he appeared to.
And as a result, the only person who had been disarmed was her. She couldn't believe that she had known him for such a short time and most times, she had to keep telling herself to be careful so as not to get carried away.
Even as she knew her reaction to David was getting out of control, her body swayed in time with his as he swung her round in the steps of the dance. Her breath seized and she got a lungful of his rich exotic scent—starch, salt and subtle, sandalwood cologne.
Her pulse throbbed heavily in her sex—and everywhere his body touched hers—as the lights whirred above their heads.
He held her in his arms, holding her tight as he moved deeper into the crowd on the dance floor. The music was familiar, and if she took just a moment she'd figure out the piece, but then David leaned close, his warm breath on her ear making her shiver. He slowed his movements, and when he pressed up against her she could feel the heat of his erection. She didn't back away. At least, not so quickly.
It felt wickedly wonderful to have such proof of his attraction to her.
She smiled into his handsome face, and he rewarded her with a grin and a slight lift of his right brow. "You okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "But don't get all excited and start doing a tango or anything."
"I promise. No tangos."
She thought of that film, The American President, when Annette Benning dances with Michael Douglas for the first time. When he tells her everyone in the room isn't looking at him, but at her.
Of course it was no hardship to keep her gaze on David . The longer she stared at him, the more she liked his face. The more real he became.
They danced as if they'd danced a hundred times before, as if the music was made to order. He held her close enough for her to catch his spicy hint of cologne.
"So, what do you think about this place, princess? Is it to your liking?"
She kept quiet and thought a minute, wanting to tease him a little bit. When she saw the frown on his face she giggled. "Don't mind me, David" she said, "Of course I do"
He smiled. "Then what was that pause for?"
"Well, you seem to enjoy messing with me so much. Not so fun when someone does it to you, is it? But sincerely, I'm having fun and I love it here"
His laughter pleased her way too much. "told ya."
She shook her head. "I don't think you should get too cocky. The night isn't over yet" then she smiled and added softly, "But I'm grateful, though."
His smile faded. "You don't think I'm expecting anything in return, do you?"
Bonnie had an idea about what he meant, but she didn't want to seem too forward and didn't want to assume wrongly, so she said, "I don't know. I barely know you."
"Good point. Rest assured. I expect nothing."
She struggled to keep the disappointment from her face. "Thank you."
The lights dimmed, the dancers glided around in the glow of lights in the room, but all Bonnie could focus on was the man she clung to. As the song ended, David brought them to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room, then leant down.
"Let’s get out of here," he murmured, his breath sending a shiver down her neck. "So we can talk outside"