Custom Built (Fast & Fury #1) - Chantal Fernando Page 0,18
last thing I need him to hear.
He slides us each a margarita. “We have the best cocktails in the city, and these are supposed to be the highlight.”
“A little biased,” I reply, arching my brow. “But thank you.”
Taking a sip, the salt hitting my tongue, I have to agree that it’s a pretty great drink. “It’s good.”
“Good? These are amazing.” Billie beams, stepping out from the side of me to see Crow better. “This is going to be my new place.”
“Bronte!” Cam calls out, running up to me from the dance floor and giving me a big hug. “I didn’t know you were coming out tonight. Do you know I haven’t stopped raving about the cake you made me? I think it’s the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten. I was pissed when Crow ate the hugest chunk out of it.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” I smile, then introduce Cam to Billie.
“Is everyone who works at Fast & Fury good looking or is it just me?” she asks Cam, after downing her margarita and placing it down on the bar. “Next round is on me. What do you all want?”
“I think I’m good for now, Billie.” I still haven’t even finished my cocktail. Cam, on the other hand, decides to be her drinking buddy, saving me from a hangover tomorrow.
Crow leans down to speak into my ear, sending shivers up my spine. “Want to dance?”
“Ummm.” I don’t know if this is a good idea, for many reasons. In fact, there’s a whole list.
He’s my boss.
I have to see him every day.
He’s in a biker club. Let’s not forget that little tidbit, shall we?
He takes my hand. “Come on, show me your moves.”
“Okay, one dance.”
The words somehow leave my lips. Maybe because it’s what I really want. Maybe it’s the seductive music.
Maybe because I need something for me.
Once dance won’t hurt, right? There’s nothing wrong with a little friendly dancing.
Crow leads me to the dance floor, smack bang in the middle, and pulls me toward his chest. Not too close, but just close enough that it feels intimate. That damn cologne of his teases me, all of my senses clouding my judgment. Losing myself in the beat, I gently move my hips, a slow tease, while he moves with me. He’s a good dancer, surprisingly. I like it when a man lets you guide the pace and doesn’t try to overdo it. Less is more, and he seems to know that, but he still moves in rhythm, sensually so.
“You look surprised,” he says, eyes filled with amusement...and a dash of heat.
“I am,” I confess, boldly wrapping my arms around his neck. “Not only at the fact that you asked me to dance, but the fact that you actually can dance.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you,” he admits, hands finding their way to my hips and squeezing gently. “At work I’ve put you in a ‘do not touch’ box, but now you’ve stepped into my other world.”
I’m unsure what to say to that, but I see what he means. At work we know what we’re supposed to be doing, we know what the boundaries are, but now we’ve left the safety of those boundaries. I recognize there’s a heat between us, one that seemed to be an annoyance to him and one I tried to avoid, not that I lasted very long. There’s some chemistry there, but that doesn’t mean we need to act on it.
“You don’t have to say anything, it’s just a dance,” he whispers, as if reading my mind, spinning me around and pulling me back against his chest, this time my back pressed against him.
And he’s right; it could be just a dance.
A dance that made time stand still.
I could walk away from here, from him, and pretend this never happened, and we could go back to work on Monday and act like we have been.
The song comes to an end, his fingers leaving my body, my arms lowering, but our gazes remain locked. I don’t know what it is about him. It’s much more than his looks—I know because I feel our connection in my chest, not just farther south.
I mean, I feel it there, too, but that’s not all there is.
Flashing him a small smile, I take his hand and lead him back to the bar, where Cam and Billie are doing Patrón shots.
“I left you alone for five minutes,” I say to them both, Billie sliding me a shot in response.