Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel) - By Kate Perry Page 0,42

it, but then she saw the interested way he looked at her, and she blurted, "Yes."

His brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Griffin Chase." She sighed. "I know you think I'm crazy, but he's going to be here tonight and I have this poem to give him."

Rachel couldn't tell what Aaron was thinking, but then he nodded and said, "Then let's look around."

She blew out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Smiling, she let him take her hand and walk her through the club.

Griffin wasn't there.

She bit her lip, disappointed.

Aaron squeezed her hand. "If he shows up, we'll see him. Let's dance and we'll keep an eye out for him."

Feeling hopeful, she smiled and nodded. They wedged their way onto the dance floor. He found an open pocket for them, faced her, and began to dance.

She'd never known a guy who'd willingly dance. She watched him, dumbfounded. She'd never danced with anyone but her mom. Her mom used to turn up the music and then they'd dance in the kitchen, crazy and uninhibited.

She hadn't danced since her mom died.

It felt good, she realized suddenly. She wondered if she should feel bad, but she could almost feel her mom smiling down at her, encouraging her to let herself be free.

So she did—she threw her arms in the air and let it loose, the way she used to with her mom.

Aaron whistled loudly and joined in, dancing every bit as enthusiastically as she was. She laughed when he did what he called the sprinkler, and she replied with a chicken dance.

"Let's not stop until the band stops," she yelled at him over the music.

He twirled her and then moved her into a dip. "I'll dance with you until you turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella."

The band only took a short break, playing until two in the morning. Sweaty but exhilarated, they reluctantly stopped, going outside for fresh air.

Aaron sat on the sidewalk. "I'll call an Uber."

She sat down next to him, feeling the waves of heat coming off him. She liked it and leaned closer even though she was really sweaty and gross.

"We didn't find Griffin Chase," Aaron said suddenly, looking at her.

Shrugging, she smiled. "It was still fun."

"Maybe we could do it again sometime," he asked carefully, his hand creeping closer to hers.

She froze. Was he going to hold her hand? She wiped it on her jeans, just in case.

But then the car arrived. Disappointed, not wanting the night to end, she reluctantly got in.

They didn't talk for the first few blocks, but then Aaron turned to her. "You've got moves. I didn't know, Rosenbaum."

His face was so close she was afraid to breathe. "You're the one with moves."

"Most people aren't lucky enough to witness them," he said modestly. He took her hand. "You're part of a privileged few."

The feel of his palm against hers robbed her of her thoughts. It was a lot of sensation, but at the same time she wanted more, even though she didn't know what that was.

He leaned toward her, and her body listed toward his. Was he going to kiss her?

Her breath caught in her throat, and she held it nervously. She'd never kissed anyone—not really, and definitely not like Aaron.

She really wanted to kiss him. She just wasn't sure what to do. Tongue? No tongue?

He leaned toward her, and their lips touched.

His were warm and dry and soft, still on hers. He made no move to maul her or to stick his tongue in her mouth the way Christian Murphy had at homecoming last year. It was like Aaron was waiting.

She should do something, like move her lips or something. She just wasn't sure what.

Then Aaron moved his lips, sliding them a little against hers.

The car door opened suddenly.

They both turned, and she froze when she saw her Dad's furious face looming in the door.

Chapter Eighteen

Arching, Nicole let the hot water soothe her back. She didn't know how Grif slept on that couch—two nights on it had her sore. Of course, it was tight with the two of them on it.

Frankly, even with the lack of space and the tight muscles, she didn't mind—not when it meant lying entwined with him all night. Not when he woke her up in the morning with bone-melting sex.

As Nicole turned the shower off and reached for her towel, she heard the softest strain of music.

Guitar music.

She froze and listened. It didn't sound like a recording, even though it was smooth and easy. It meant one thing: that Grif had picked