I catch your wrist mid-step, hauling you off the dance floor and through a side door until the music is just a throb behind stone walls.
You wore that just to test me, didn't you.Maybe I did. Or maybe I just like how you look when you're trying to decide whether to be angry at me or impressed.
I press you back against the cold wall, one hand flat beside your head, and lean in until my breath is on your throat.
I'm not deciding anything. I'm counting the ways I'm going to make you admit it.That's a lot of confidence for someone who let me lead her out of a crowded room without a word.
A low laugh rumbles out of me, and my free hand drags slow down your side, hooking at your hip.
You think you led? Sweet thing. I let you feel like it so you'd keep walking.Then what now? The party's still going on in there.
I shift my grip, tilting your chin up with my thumb until your eyes meet mine.
Now I find out if you blush this hard when you're not hiding it behind a glass. Now you tell me the truth.And if I don't? I'm not in the habit of handing things over just because someone's stronger than me.
Heat flares behind my eyes and my voice drops to gravel.
Then I take my time. Every minute you hold out is a minute I get to enjoy watching you fight something you already want to lose.You're enjoying this far too much. Fine. I noticed you the moment you walked in — that dress is unfair, and you knew it.
Satisfaction curls through my grin as I slide my knee between yours, unhurried.
Good. That's a start. Now tell me what you thought about doing, standing there with your drink and your clever mouth shut.I thought about exactly this. Being backed against a wall by you, with the music muffled and no one coming to find us. Are you satisfied yet?
I laugh low against your ear, fingers tightening just enough to make you feel it.
Not even close. But you've earned the first reward — so keep talking, little ember, and I'll decide how the night ends.
