The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,40

nodded. We had. Then, I tipped the drink back and drained it.

“I’ll grab us another,” he promised. “Don’t leave.”

I watched him disappear back the way that we had come. This was dangerous territory, being here with Court. It was probably pretty stupid. But I’d just figured we’d put in so much work this week that it would be worth it to cut loose. That didn’t mean we had to do anything stupid. We could just hang out, especially since all of the rest of our friends were currently in the Hamptons. I’d rather do this than go back to the empty apartment, all alone again.

The music carried me away as the drink finally caught up with me. In Hollywood, I used to go out dancing with Winnie all the time. We’d ditch our respective beaus and dance the night away. Sometimes, we’d do it to keep up with clients, and sometimes, it was just for ourselves. Lark was too busy to go dancing all the time. Whitley was a hot plastic surgeon. As much as she wanted to go out all the time, it was too draining. And I still couldn’t get a full read on Katherine. She was loyal to a fault, and I was just getting into her good graces. This New York life was so different. It felt good to just let loose on the dance floor.

My hands were over my head. My eyes closed as I swayed my hips back and forth to the beat. Everything else just disappeared.

Then, a hand came to my hip. My eyes flew open, and I stared up into Court’s impossibly blue ones. He mirrored my movements with his own hips. A rocking that felt all too familiar.

He handed me a drink with a wink. I took it and didn’t halt my movements. Neither did he. I downed the drink like it was a lifeline. Probably not the smartest thing I’d ever done.

Court moved in closer when my drink was gone.

“What are you doing?” I said hoarsely over the music.

“Dancing.” He reached up for my arms, slinging them around his neck.

“This is a bad idea,” I said as his hands slid down my back. “What if people see? Or… what if…”

“English,” he breathed into my ear, “shut up.”

I shivered all over at the caress of his lips against my ear. Just the lightest brush. I was sober enough to know that we shouldn’t be doing this. That this wasn’t what I’d signed up for when I agreed to come to this party. But I was drunk enough to keep dancing. To want to feel his strong hands on my hips, the crush of his body against mine, to see the intensity in his eyes.

It was just a dance. A dangerous dance. And yet, I wanted to keep dancing with him. For one thing, he was just really fucking good at it. For another… well, my brain shut off when he was this close to me.

His hands slid from my hips to the small of my back, inching lower and lower. As if, at any moment, he would slide down to my ass. Maybe even lift the slim black dress I wore and touch skin. Skin that was on fire as we drew in closer and closer. So close that I could just stand on my tiptoes to meet his lips.

At the thought, I whirled around in his arms. Not that this was better. In fact, it might be worse. No longer was I close to his tempting lips, but now, my ass was pressed firmly against his growing erection. If he tipped me forward at the waist, we’d be exactly where we’d started a few weeks ago.

His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Almost as if he knew that I was thinking of bolting. I slumped back against him, letting my hands drop around his neck.

He groaned into my ear. Fire spread through my core. It was erotic. Dancing with him like this made my pulse race and my skin heat and memories flood my system. Ones that I had been purposely trying to avoid. Because thinking about the best sex of my life when I was in Court Kensington’s arms was a recipe for disaster.

“Anna,” he murmured against my ear. “Fuck.”

I shuddered. Which only egged him on.

I needed to get away. Or I was going to give in to this. I wouldn’t care what happened.

I stopped moving and wrenched out of his grip. When I turned